The rise of Glorath

Elven capitol of the earthen root.

The earth ponies back home would be envious if they saw what the elves have done with the trees. Even the library of the mage of magic is but a joke to the skill of these elves. Their towers are made of the mighty oak, some of them blended together, to make palaces that boggle the imagination.

The birch trees, grow and mingle to make their place a shiny white beacon. The sacred grove that surrounds them, keeps out all invaders. Yet the grove is sick, and their mighty trees seem to go pale as the days go on. The elves never saw the abominations that are my twisted kin. I thought they were to be used as the advance attack, yet all the elves say they fought were demons and giants.

They have used their mighty earthen magic, to graft a young sapling to Thesria. They cut what remained of her stump of an arm. The roots dug deep, you could see them crawl under her skin, and latch into her spine. Her screaming vibrated the windows of the hostible. The rest of the gange and I were treated and fed.

Sadly we have been unable to converse with their council, as the demons keep coming. Yet each time we have been able to repel them. It was on the eve of the last battle that they gave our paladin a new arm. I can not tell if I am impressed with the magic or repulsed, perhaps a bit of both.
We speak to the council the next day if the demon hoard permits us. Rainbow seems to think that we will have the time, as the next advancement is days away. I spent the evening with Thesria training, to help her get used to her strange new arm. Watching her fight, the way her body moves captivates me. She is as graceful as a butterfly, yet strong and mighty like a dragon.

The next day

We are woken, and my servant baths me, I still can not get used to her, yet she assures me that there is nothing short of death, that can break her bonds and oath.

After the embarrassment of bing dressed, I met with my companions to eat, we discussed what we are to do after we are done with the elves, there is a swamp that we need to move around, to reach their lands. This is what I was told, is why we could not visit the lupins before the elves, as this swamp blocked any path from the great city of Yarth.

The cleric and mage are both equally concerned for the elves, as there is a poisen that seems to be killing there woods. The cleric seems to think that her god has shown her the place where such infliction has sprung from.

Yet all too fast the morn is spent, and what is needed to say among friends and companions has been spoken. We are rushed to meet the council of elven wisdom. A league of seven of the oldest elves alive. There very fabric tied to these woods. I am told they are what remains of 12 great kingdomes. Brought to their knees by Glorath. Yet such advents are so old, that even the elders barely remember the tail. That their history before his strif was robbed from all that lived at that time. So that non could try to give him breath on this land again.

The magic that tied the great leaders to these woods is of the same that struct such times from their people. What malignant books of that beast remained were burnt, their heroes are forgotten. I am told they find the irony of his return bitter. That they lost so much history for apparently nothing.

The Throne Room

I was not expecting the elders to be such wizened things. They stand, in watching over their people for an eon, to guide their people through the sand of time. When it was said that they were tied to the Grove, I did not understand it was to mean that they were a part of it. They look like knotted wood, there legs, gon to time, melted into the floor. If I was not looking for elves I might of mistook them for trees, I almost did anyway.

They asked Shlvric If they could speak to the great Yarth, I was surprised that he could. He inchanted a wall, and it turned into a pool. Apparently, I found out that the elder were dying, there grove has been killed by foul beast not of any world the new or know. My kin had snuck deep into their grove, going deep into the sacred caves, and pools of enlightenment. There foul mutations of disease have sent a slow death to there home, and the battle that is to take place in the next day, is to be the diversion for the people to flee.

He is sending them to Yarth. We are urged to flee fast to the lands of the lupin, there is nothing left for us to do. The elder gave us each a potion of myth and legend. It is said to cheat death or heal any poison know or unknown. They elder were told that we are seen to be the ones that will deliver The means to end the demon king. But that to do so, we must unite the races, and find the Drowven stronghold. My companions insisted that such a place and people are but a myth. That such a task is a foolish waste of time. Yet the elves insite, that they will be found in the farthest northern reaches, in the coldest peek of the deadliest mountains.

That without seeking them out, all will be lost.