[written] Of the Storm People

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[written] Of the Storm People

Post  Christen M. on Thu Mar 10, 2011 9:24 pm

Myths of Origin

Mistriallia … it is a name which haunts my kin. It lingers in our dreams and whispers in our ears during our waking. Once upon a time it was the home of our fading kind, before they tore us from it, made of us their slaves. The High Ones, the Valkin, most powerful and possessing of magics beyond even our understanding, consorted with the Children of the An’Dar… the Elvenkin. To save their dying kind they made a deal with the Elvenkin, and thus were we given form, torn from the light of our being. In that place of light were enslaved. But deliverance came, and He bought our freedom with His life. Too late, however, for the Elves had not forgotten us, nor the mighty Valkin whom they had aided. We, who they name the Lesser, the Valkin’vi, were torn from our home plane of existence… and forced into the physical forms of elves… or whatever bodies their magic constructed for us to inhabit. For ages uncounted they used us as slaves, made us control the weather for them and foretell those things which might come to pass. Sundered from our beloved Mistriallia were we, betrayed by the Valkin, and enslaved by the Elvenkin.

Valkin’vi they calld us, the Lesser Valkin. We are the moonlight children of another world, yet damned and bound to this one. There are some who believe that when we die, perhaps our light souls return to the airy plane of our beginning. For myself, I think it is too late for my kin. For you see, we are not what we once were, nor indeed could you even really call us Valkin’vi. We are a new kindred, a secret kindred, and the Elvenkin would go so far as to deny that we even exits. For our very existence reminds them of their lost kingdom. We are the Vau’An’Dar, the Storm People, though some tales have named us Storm Elves for our pointed ears, fine elven features, and the way that we ride the storms of the sea.

In sooth, it is not an errant observation, for we are indeed of the blood of the Elves, the blood of those who once made of us their slaves. But so too are we Valkin’vi, mystic and ethereal; harlequin children. Ours is a tale few have ever heard, for we do not often tell it. We are seen almost never in the world at large, for we have little to do with the world of men. Tales of dread are whispered among the pirate captains and Corsair fleets of the far South, for our very name is dread to them. We are a quiet people, given to solitude and mysticism. However, do not mistake us for passive. We are fearsome in battle, peerless upon the seas and deadly if crossed. Sailors speak of us with fear, for none who venture too near our island homeland e’re return… unscathed.

Our tale, the tale of the Vau’An’dar begins during the height of the mighty Elven Empire, in the lost Age of Legends. Vast and many were their kingdoms, and no folk was as mighty or splendorous as they, the Children of the An’dar, the Elvenkin. One such kingdom lay far to the south of their capitol of Silv’An’dar, encompassing a great chain of islands. Masters of the sea, peerless of the magics of Air and Water were these Elves. Though many Elves of that time had come to see the Valkin’vi as beings in their own right, setting them free to forge their own destiny, the Elves of this island kingdom ruled the Valkin’vi with an iron fist. They used their harlequin slaves to control the seas and the forces of the weather, to peer into the uncharted future and give their Masters insight. Ruthlessly they exploited and oppressed the Valkin’vi, that quiet folk.

But, as a storm begins as a single breeze, so the wrath and fury of the Valkin’vi began to grow. Slowly at first they began to meet in secret, gathering their numbers and harnessing their strength. They knew that many of their folk had escaped the slavery of the elves, or had been set free. Thus, they could no longer suffer under the cruel yoke of the Elves, and so, after a time, they made war upon their enslavers. As beautiful and quiet as they were in peace, they were fearsome and merciless in battle. Silent stalkers, assassins, and masters of stealth and trickery, the Valkin’vi came upon the Elves in the darkness of night. The war, called the War of the Mood, raged across the islands for more than a decade, and for a time it was feared that all the people of that kingdom, Elf and Valkin’vi alike, would parish.

A decade of warfare began to wear upon them, however, and at last there were few left to fight. Though both sides called for aid from their respective kins, none came, for all the world seemed content to wait and see who would emerge the victor. At last a compromise was made, and a kind of watchful peace settled in. It was decided that the kins, both equally proud and unyielding, would submit to a plan to bind the two feuding peoples together. The first born daughters of the Valkin’vi were wed to the second born sons of the Elves, and the second born daughters of the Valkin’vi wed to the first born sons of the Elves. By this manner would the two peoples become one, and so too would the population, decimated by the long war, be replenished.

Ages passed, as we cannot keep them from doing. The Elves and Valkin’vi of that Elven kingdom became one, soon one people all together, with the white pale skin and penchant for harlequin of the Valkin’vi, and yet the fine features and pointed ears of the Elves. In time this half Elven, half Valkin’vi kin took the name the Vau’An’dar, or the Storm People, for they were born in the storms of war. We were born of the storms of war. The great kingdoms of the Elves began to fade and fall, and the ages of man came to pass. Forgotten were the Children of the Storm, except by those who ventured into their waters by chance. Silv’An’dar all but whipped mention and record of them from their history, for they refused to acknowledge the defeat of their folk. In their eyes, the Vau’An’dar did not exist.

And so we are a secretive race, not quite of Phantara, and yet bound also to it. We are like shadows in the moonlight, Seers, fierce warriors, and mystics. There are some who still believe that when we die, if we have come to a state of enlightenment, we might yet return to our home of Mistriallia. But some say that the part of our souls which is so very elven will not let us leave, for it could not bear to be parted from fair Phantara. For myself, I have yet to pass judgment. I look, like so many of my kin, to the cold crystal stars for answers, and insight into what might yet be for my kin. As for what I have Seen… that is for another day.

Ana’Vaun’Ithily’ inen’ Drea’Mornay - Mystic of the Winter Moon
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Christen M.

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