Once Upon a Midnight Dreary

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In the beginning, there were elves. And trees. You know, the happy sort of foresty nature type we've all grown to love. They lived in peace, happy with The Way Things Were. But, time makes the senses grow dull, and curiousity found a foothold. Not surprising, with such a long-lived race as the elves. They began feeding their thirst for knowledge, their greatest minds going in all sorts of directions with their studies. None seemed Taboo, for nothing could possibly be evil in the pursuit of knowledge. Then, somewhere over time, someone went around overturning all the rocks, and the things that creep and crawl began coming out. The things that creep and crawl weren't nearly so civilized, so you see where the problem comes in. Elves went from being the peaceful, artistic, loving race they once were to being the type to dig in their heels and defend their homelands. The Art of War was brought to the realm of mortals, and they brought it upon themselves. Their poetic wits and picturesque grace were transformed into battle wits and deadly grace. they got pushed, and pushed back (and lived to tell the tale). But, alas, the Darkness was spreading.

Around the same time, the dwarves had been doing what they do best - exploring the World Below. At first a form of curiousity, then intrigue. Finally this was overcome, as are all things, by greed. They loved nothing more than to strip mine everything in sight. They learned quickly to turn the natural beauty of the earths deepest secrets, into their wildest imaginings. Their entire massed will was bent upon creating perfection from everything around them, be it metal, gem, or even plain old stone. And, as my mom says, mother nature takes care of whats hers. The dwarves went too far, and let loose upon the underdark many things in the deepest parts of the world - things that were locked away under a mile-high stone vault for a reason. The tools of the trade became the Tools of Destruction, and the rest is, as they say, history.

Now, an interesting thing occured. the Dwarves stopped going deeper, and began instead spilling out into the open air. What makes it interesting is that the creatures they had unearthed followed, and mingled with the creatures that the elves had discovered, and then there were even more baddies. The dwarves knew an easy, surefire way to solve the problem - they turned their city into a impregnable castle. The elves found a similar solution: they took to the trees. They rebuilt their small villages high amidst the forest canopy, sleeping soundly in the knowledge that monsters can't climb.

Now, things get weird around this point. Dwarves and elves are prisoners in their own lands, but still flourishing. Their crafts, ever evolving, become the things of legend that they are known to be. Of course, legends have a tendency of becoming known. While they each honed their own masterworks, they still rarely made contact with each other. Dwarves, being afraid of heights, and elves, being claustrophobic, never made a habit of being guests in the others' homes. This was to change, soon enough.

A dragon named Smaug got word of the riches of the mountain men, and as dragons tend to do, he wanted it all for himself. This wasn't any old dragon, this was a black dragon. An ancient one, at that. One with power enough to tear a hole in the mountain itself to get at what he wanted. The dragon learned a lesson that day - dwarves are an angry lot when you destroy their home. He was beaten back, but only for a moment. So began the daily trials. Every day, Smaug would come for lunch, and every day, the dwarves would be hard pressed to defend their homes. It took some time - over a month, to be precise, but the dwarves finally gritted their teeth, put honour aside, and begged for help. Thus, the allegiance of Elf and Dwarf. It wasn't that simple, mind you. For the better part of a year, they battled the dragon. And, for the better part of a year the best they could do was send the great beast to lick its wounds and wait for another day.

The final battle occured on a rainy, miserable day. But this day was unlike any other in many other ways. The great warriors of both races were all dead or dying, and all were sure their fate was sealed. But, atop a mountain high, something amazing occured. There was an elf, named Mionnodel Illuminati Veritas. He was born different, his ears were keener, his fingers defter, his mind more potent in ways that cannot be described. There was also a dwarf, his name was Gulban Strongback. He was neither keen of eye or fleet of foot, but he was a stubborn man, as well as a man of faith. The two of them spent the better part of the day venting their anger at the powers that be, yelling words of anger till their voises went hoarse and their breath no longer came easily. But, something came of it, for when Smaug again came to confront them, the clouds parted for a mere second, to unleash a bolt of lightning from the heavens.

Smaug tumbled to the earth below, carving a path in the mountainside as he fell. But, he fell, and stayed down. The two became suddenly awestruck. Mionnodel, certain that his friends faith caused it, praised him to the day he died, for his conviction for his god had saved the day. Gulban disagreed, swearing on all that he held holy that the elf's words were charged with electricity, and he had called the lightning himself. One way or the other, both became the greatest of friends, and each became heroes, and leaders of their races. Also, they continued on the path that the other praised them for, each friends words leading them on to farther and greater reaches than any could have imagined. Regardless of the details, the powers of the Arcane and Faith were forever after a part of both cultures.

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At some point in time - the records grow vague - a family of Men came, found the beautiful Bay, and said "this looks like a nice spot." So, with the stubborness inherent in their kind, they set up a home. They spent their days fishing and swimming, and they were happy. Of course, that wasn't enough for them. They started a little farmstead, raising chickens and cows, and this was enough for a while. The elves were curious, but not enough to introduce themselves. So, they watched, and observed.

Somehow, the family of Men told their friends, and another few families came and joined them. The one little home turned into a grouping of houses. The families prospered, and grew, and expanded. Their indiscretions of chopping down trees to build houses were insignificant, so noone saw what was to come. But it came.

Years passed, nay generations. I won't bore you with the details, but basically the little house transformed into a bustling fishing port in no time, and rhe forest slowly retreated to make way for farmlands. Again, the creatures in the shadows were awakened, but by this time the men of the village were many, and ferocious when it came to protecting their families. Somehow, the men were actually able to keep the monsters back, and not only keep them back, but push them farther back. This time, the elves took notice.

Fast forward again. The village of men became a town, with frequent visits to the port from the world beyond. They had still not dared venture forth along the Way, the great road scarring the forest, stretching straight and true as far as the eye could see. It seemed so dreadfully ominous, this path without a past. But, knowing that all roads lead somewhere, they set up their city gate, both awe inspiring and dreadfully frightening. It was to be their greatest feat of construction ever, the altering facades of angels and demons, monsters and magnificence. They were never sure of what it was they built it for, but they seemed more than surprised by the first creature to come knocking.

Noone saw his approach, but all in the city heard the ominous booming of his fist upon the wrought-iron portcullis. The alarm was sounded, and the guards were at attention. The bravest of them slid open the peep-hole - and saw noone. They waited a second, and the banging once again came. Poking his nose through the peephole, he looked again, inquiring "Who is it?". And he got a reply, "Down here, you dolt, now open the door before i slap you silly."

Thus, the first contact between Gnome and Man.

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It was an interesting conversation, to say the least. The gnome walked in, said, "Nice place you got here." and waited for a response. Now, this was their first time seeing a gnome, so they weren't quite sure what to think. He was short, chubby, and had a nose that was more than slightly large and runny. He spoke with a high-pitched nasally accent, without actually seeming to speak to anyone in particular. Those closest noticed he smelled like wet dog - those farther away noted his drab appearance, mismatched shoes, and big feet. Noone said anything until some of the city officials came to officially greet him. He shook their hands overzealously, got their names wrong, and asked, "Got a drink and somewhere quiet to enjoy it?"

The meeting was a little odd, to say the least. The gnome slumped down in a high-backed chair that seemed awfully uncomfortable for a little guy such as himself, and proceeded to hold his glass - not taking a sip, but gesticulating endlessly with it."So, you guys, what brings you to the neighbourhood?" The one high-browed council member who had offered up his chambers for the meeting was more than slightly distraught at the puddle of expensive red wine forming around the oddity's chair.

The first to respond was the Captain of the guard, a man renowned for his skill with his broadsword, but worth his weight in gold for the fact that his wit was as sharp as his weapon. "We liked the view." The other council members hummed and hawed, but the two ignored everyone's words of trade negotiations and not-so-subtle bribery.

"It is a nice one, isn't It? Funny, thats what I came here about." That seemed to silence the crowd a little, and none seemed intent to speak, so the captain continued, "Why's that? Can't see over the walls?" The little balding gnomes eye twinkled, and he replied, "No, if that was a problem I'd have dealt with it." The captain found this more than slightly funny, seeing as the walls had withstood over three hundred years of goblins, orcs, and gnolls. Laughing, he said, "Oh, well I am most glad that they do not disturb your presence." The gnome blew his nose loudly, and made a face as he viewed the contents of his handkerchief. He made a show of folding it carefully, making sure not to touch anything but the edges, and folding it again, and again, and one more time. When he looked up, he saw the look of amazement on everyones faces at the fact that it had disappeared. The captain brushed it off - mostly - and took a different measure of this little enigma, wondering if he really could take the walls down if he wanted. Reminding himself to keep the sarcasm out of his voice from now on, he ended the awkward silence. "So, about the view, what is it you like? The rolling waves, the white sandy beaches, the grassy plains to the south, the speckling of islands just within sight?" The gnome seemed more than slightly comical, when he said in a romantic voice, "No, I love the sunsets; the way the sky lights up, just as the sun quenches itself in the sea, just as the stars begin to take their throne in the sky . . . " One of the other council members jumped in, this one a young lad hailing from the Bardic Collegium. And, he went off on some poetic verse about the stars and the moon, and it was so fitting it brought a tear to the eyes. And, so, the other members of council found their voices, and began interrogating this perfect stranger.

The captain was busy mulling over the word that stuck out most horrendously in his mind: throne. He had seen the castle in the sky, though it was but a glimmer in the clouds, and could only be seen when the moon was dark. He knew what was meant, or at least had a suspicion. He did not dare voice his questions among the others, but he could not help but think it, why was the castle important, who lived there, what was it all supposed to mean? He kept silent for the remainder of the meeting, noting bemusedly that the little gnome seemed to answer every question with a question, leading the conversation in this way and that, talking for hours but speaking of nothing more than gibberish. Hell, they hadn't even caught his name. He lost track of time, and was surprised when the little stranger was suddenly saying goodbye, smiling and offering a handshake. He mechanically responded, shaking hands in return, feeling the cold touch of metal on his palm. He watched him depart, watched the gates close behind him, and watched him disappear into the fog rolling in from the docks.

Looking down finally into his hands, he saw a coin. It seemed like an ordinary enough coin, but he couldn't seem to ponder its meaning. Flipping it from one side to the other, he saw the same face on both edges. It was made of gold, not surprisingly, and seemed to be of immaculate design, the slight embossed ivy pattern on the outer ring pressing into his fingertips as he twirled it from one face to the other. He did not sleep this night, fearing for the safety of his city. It was a full moon, so he went to the rooftop balcony of the barracks house and gazed upon the sleeping city. It was silent, but for the occasional noise one would expect from a metropolitan center. The words echoed in his head, and he glanced towards the sunset, though it was many hours past. His breath caught in his throat, as he saw the moon slip behind a cloud - to reveal the cold, dark edges of a castle.

It wasn't long thereafter when rumours came of an elven man who claimed to be from the heavenly kingdom of Celeste, born of the stars themselves. He went by the name of Chance, and claimed to see the outcome of every possibility. His reputation preceded him, and it was soon to be the golden rule that he was not offered a seat at a poker table. The captain thought of this as nothing more than a rumour, until one day when he got word that the young upstart had crafted himself an illegal gambling hall down by the southern docks. Taking a few of his men, the captain went to deal with this law-breaker himself. Kicking the door down, they burst in upon a series of games of chance. Cards, dice, and a few that I'd rather not go into detail about. The patrons tried to scatter, but most were caught and jailed. The captain searched high and low for the elf, finally finding him hidden behind a secret door concealed by a bookshelf. Pushing it open, he saw a figure seated in a high-backed chair. A blazing fire was behind him - the same crackling fire that had given the room away. He could not see who was seated, for the light of the fire made everything else seem dark, and looking directly at one without the other was impossible. "Its over, give yourself up," the captain growled, brandishing his broadsword dangerously.

"Not a Chance." The figure stood up, pacing back and forth. "I've made quite a life for myself here with you pathetic mortals, and I'm not about to throw it all away. YOU give up, and I'll let you walk out of here alive. No, don't speak, I know what you're about to say, 'its my town and whine whine whine blah blah blah.'" He stopped in his tracks, turning menacingly, "I am your ruler now. It is only a matter of time, but I will be your King."

His eyes finally locking onto the elf's face, the captain was shaken with a sudden fear. Looking into those eyes, he lost the strength to hold his sword aloft. realizing this fact, that his sword would be to no avail, his courage left him, and trembling, he fell to his knees. His final breath was the utterance of, "Its you," as the elf stepped forward and took his coin from the captain's pocket.