A village lost to time, strange and beautiful to behold./ Only one to escape the place before the cataclysm did unfold./ Harmed by those claiming the light the child is forced, fearful, to roam./ The village, the cataclysm did not destroy, but obscured the young way's home./ Evil there to bar the way, fools the light to their crime.../ Until one not of darkness, not of light, guards safe the child./ And the evil pays the price, upon vengeance will the child dine.
https://peakd.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-04008-j356-a-lesson-in-trust -- Anon Guest
[AN: Props to OP for the poetry. Sorry I had to wreck the formatting for space reasons. It will be restored in the final archives]
In the beginning, so the stories say, there were only Dragons. The two that made Alfarell plucked stars out of another reality and some fell to become Elves. The D'varuv tunneled their way into sunlight shortly after that. As soon as one species met another, they started flinging magic at each other as well as various other weapons.
That was just the start of the Xenophobia Wars.
In all that mess, there were inevitably portions of the world that bore the scars of past conflicts. Wildlands. Floating firmament. Portals into other planes... and portions of the world that could only be found under specific circumstances. The Elvish word for such has passed to common parlance - bryg'haduun.
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