Humans, for having started out as mewling weaklings suckling at the teat of Elven generosity, have, with our support, flourished. The histories surrounding Human development say that after the period of our greatest influence over them, once the “cursed” winter had found its terminal point, they erected a city then called Havensong. By the description of of the land, it must have been quite beautiful, indeed – a people gathered in a forest at the base of the Roan sounds like a recipe for long term contentment, to me. The name itself speaks to the safety they felt in their forest city. Gods above know even I feel safe imagining it, though that could in part be due to the forest in which the city lies, not to mention the effort the Human people, tired of living under our roof, put forth into finding their own homeland on Terminus.
Though I yet yearn to visit the place, Havensong was not to be. Where the Halflings dealt with jealousy from other deities and the Dark Myr incompetence and then tragedy, the Humans' defining deus ex machina came at the expense of the service of the traitor god Ossari, the Human king Avendyr's royal parents, and the city of Havensong, put under siege, torn apart and tossed into the sea. I should note that Avendyr had yet to reach his third decade of life, and that while this does make him a child by Elven standards, humans of that age are as mature as an elf in their sixth or seventh decade. I myself have yet to reach my fifth, though I have gained enough insight to know that I can be thoughtless in my haste and to trust the judgment of my elders. When I first learned of Avendyr's age during the razing of Havensong my mind leaped to images of a youth burdened with destiny valiantly leading his people to safety, but that was not the case, I learned after expressing my confusion.
Avendyr stepped up to his destiny brilliantly, as the histories concur. Clearly influenced by his ancestors' brush with Elven grace, the Human king turned into a great commander of armies and a stirring orator, as well as a sound thinker – building a colossal walled city atop a stone plateau with either a chasm or barren land to traverse before you get to the wall is a great way to not get attacked versus, say, a city in a forest with high ground next to it. Hindsight has the advantage of experience, though, so I cannot fault them for at first wanting to live in a striking locale. A pity that locale was moved to the sea bed.
Thronefast's gate – and indeed, all its walls – remain standing to this day. The bits of Elven culture that rubbed off on the Humans during their winter of reckoning have clearly influenced the design of their city. Not so much that they're shaping wood as it grows – no, they've not the Elven gift with growth as a whole. While there may be individuals some of the elders may look to as peers, Humans as a whole are a curious sort. They mature far faster than Elven children, though perhaps the sudden maturity is due to some sort of trauma from learning how short their life spans are. Perhaps that's the chief difference between the Elven and Human peoples? If an elf were to be born with a shorter life span, would they too mature earlier? And what of the Halflings? Would their ever younger deaths mean that they too mature faster? Is that still true now that they are ageless?
In any case, my ramblings aside, Humans do not possess the Elven talent for growth, but they do have a sense for grand design. I understand that they have an anvil with a hammer stuck at the moment that humans' fates were created. Does that mean that a human's fate is their own? A lovely gift from any patron – or matron – deity. What would happen, though, if one were to move the hammer?
Ever more questions, leading me to the conclusion that I must go out and see this world for myself, and document all I find in a compendium. It is now my stated goal to do so, and I must continue to further my studies in the arcane arts. Largely what I have been learning thus far are the details of how mana flows through the body, as well as how to feel it and see it if the need arises. It has been quite interesting, though I would not recommend trying untrained as, even with instruction and supervision, I think I strained something, today.
I shall get back to it tomorrow, but for now, I need rest. There's no sense crippling myself if I'd like to explore the world and write a compendium. I must take care of myself no matter what may come, for I must always be able to count on myself. Not exclusively, just enough that given equal need, I would put myself first. And, given I now have a grander goal in mind, I have a greater need. My writings will save scholars years of traveling and study, prevent loss of life, and inspire the young to go out and see the world. That will be a good day, and the journey there starts today.
Humans, for having started out as mewling weaklings suckling at the teat of Elven generosity, have, with our support, flourished. The histories surrounding Human development say that after the period of our greatest influence over them, once the “cursed” winter had found its terminal point, they erected a city then called Havensong. By the description of of the land, it must have been quite beautiful, indeed – a people gathered in a forest at the base of the Roan sounds like a recipe for long term contentment, to me. The name itself speaks to the safety they felt in their forest city. Gods above know even I feel safe imagining it, though that could in part be due to the forest in which the city lies, not to mention the effort the Human people, tired of living under our roof, put forth into finding their own homeland on Terminus.
Though I yet yearn to visit the place, Havensong was not to be. Where the Halflings dealt with jealousy from other deities and the Dark Myr incompetence and then tragedy, the Humans' defining deus ex machina came at the expense of the service of the traitor god Ossari, the Human king Avendyr's royal parents, and the city of Havensong, put under siege, torn apart and tossed into the sea. I should note that Avendyr had yet to reach his third decade of life, and that while this does make him a child by Elven standards, humans of that age are as mature as an elf in their sixth or seventh decade. I myself have yet to reach my fifth, though I have gained enough insight to know that I can be thoughtless in my haste and to trust the judgment of my elders. When I first learned of Avendyr's age during the razing of Havensong my mind leaped to images of a youth burdened with destiny valiantly leading his people to safety, but that was not the case, I learned after expressing my confusion.
Avendyr stepped up to his destiny brilliantly, as the histories concur. Clearly influenced by his ancestors' brush with Elven grace, the Human king turned into a great commander of armies and a stirring orator, as well as a sound thinker – building a colossal walled city atop a stone plateau with either a chasm or barren land to traverse before you get to the wall is a great way to not get attacked versus, say, a city in a forest with high ground next to it. Hindsight has the advantage of experience, though, so I cannot fault them for at first wanting to live in a striking locale. A pity that locale was moved to the sea bed.
Thronefast's gate – and indeed, all its walls – remain standing to this day. The bits of Elven culture that rubbed off on the Humans during their winter of reckoning have clearly influenced the design of their city. Not so much that they're shaping wood as it grows – no, they've not the Elven gift with growth as a whole. While there may be individuals some of the elders may look to as peers, Humans as a whole are a curious sort. They mature far faster than Elven children, though perhaps the sudden maturity is due to some sort of trauma from learning how short their life spans are. Perhaps that's the chief difference between the Elven and Human peoples? If an elf were to be born with a shorter life span, would they too mature earlier? And what of the Halflings? Would their ever younger deaths mean that they too mature faster? Is that still true now that they are ageless?
In any case, my ramblings aside, Humans do not possess the Elven talent for growth, but they do have a sense for grand design. I understand that they have an anvil with a hammer stuck at the moment that humans' fates were created. Does that mean that a human's fate is their own? A lovely gift from any patron – or matron – deity. What would happen, though, if one were to move the hammer?
Ever more questions, leading me to the conclusion that I must go out and see this world for myself, and document all I find in a compendium. It is now my stated goal to do so, and I must continue to further my studies in the arcane arts. Largely what I have been learning thus far are the details of how mana flows through the body, as well as how to feel it and see it if the need arises. It has been quite interesting, though I would not recommend trying untrained as, even with instruction and supervision, I think I strained something, today.
I shall get back to it tomorrow, but for now, I need rest. There's no sense crippling myself if I'd like to explore the world and write a compendium. I must take care of myself no matter what may come, for I must always be able to count on myself. Not exclusively, just enough that given equal need, I would put myself first. And, given I now have a grander goal in mind, I have a greater need. My writings will save scholars years of traveling and study, prevent loss of life, and inspire the young to go out and see the world. That will be a good day, and the journey there starts today.
Sincerely,
