Alfheim

Alfheim, otherwise known as the Land of the Elves, is an ancient realm where the elves dwelled in their earliest days. One of the first realms of Fantasy, many elves once lived in this heaven like paradise. However, after mysterious events, the homeland of the elves has disappeared, and fallen into eternal shadow. Now, only Van Valeric calls this place home.
==The Dark Lord of the Elves==
Hidden in the twilight forest at the center of Alfheim, the ancient Palace of Stars stands abandoned - at least, that's what many on the outside would imagine. No, the throne remained occupied, even as twilight fell upon the homeland of elfkind. While the secrets of the Eternal Night and the mass exodus from the darkened realm remain foggy, no elf can now live here. All except one, and his mysterious works, hidden within.
For indeed while the light had long left this place, one remains who dwells in the dark - an old god of the elves now sits upon the throne. He studies ancient books, scrolls, and tablets, eternally busy. On the latest start of the lunar cycle however, an oddity occurs, instead of pouring over books, the dark god silently breaks his traditional silence and research, and instead utters...
"By the command of the Dark Lord of Alfheim, by my name unto which all elves bow, I command thee to take form and spirit, and serve me until thy breath runs empty. In my name, Van Valeric, you shall arise from ash and shadow, from light and dawn. I embue thee with the astral elements of Aether, to give thee life and breath, and Nether, to give thee body and mind. Arise, child of Shadow and Light, Aether and Nether. I invoke thy name, /Hevilan - Yugilal - Fereis\."
A great mass of energy, light, and dark, ash clouds that blanket and obscure the room gathers and condenses, giving rise to a figure that kneels at the seated Van Valeric, the master of this realm.
"Speak, my creation, and tell me thy name." He utters, once the being he brought forth raises its head.
"Kalos, my lord..." Many voices answered the question before becoming one. The figure clutched its throat, startled by its own utterance. It held both hands out in front of itself, and watched as they changed, muscle shifting, growing and shrinking without reason. The being's form continued to shift erratically until finally settlimg into the shape of a young man. Looking towards it's master, the being of light and darkness spoke once more, this time in a clearly male voice. "I live by your hand. For what purpose have you given me form?"
"I have need of one who can traverse the light and shadow equally, yet remain hidden by both sides. There is a task I would have you, one born of the twlight, fulfill. There is one who possesses a black sword that wields darkness that I wish for you to test the mettle of. This is a ruse for your true goal: ascertain the condition of the blade and the magic wards that keep the entity within contained. After which, follow their movements, and report to me the condition of the blade as time goes on."
A blade of shadows? What being could possibly exist to pique my lord's interest? Truly, my existence is proof that my lord's own power rivals that of a God's... Kalos shook his head quickly, intent not to question his master's will. He knelt further, his head nearly touching the ground.
"As you wish it, Lord Van."
"Hmm, I sense doubts. Shall I tell you a story, that you might know the depth of the task given to you?" Van Valeric's tone is even, displaying no signs of offense from Kalos' lord.
"I-if you wish it, my lord." Kalos replied. Looking up to his master.
"A long time past in a realm called Earth, a race called Humans engaged in battle against interlopers from another world, ones which they called 'Myths'. The war was long and bloody, but Humanity and his ingenuity would cling on despite their supernatural challenge. And then of course, their fortunes, as with all tales, turned sour. For eight colossal beings, composed of the eight elements that compose the physical world, appeared, along with vast armies of elemental servants, and began to pillage the land, human and myth alike. So great was the warfare, that the seven continents of Earth fused into one super landmass. One they now call Pangea Ultima.
Despite the advances made in the age of the Human - Myth war, humans couldn't overcome these godly beings, and were set to be eradicated from the world. But one day, eight swordsman came and sealed away the eight gods into their eight, legendary blades, bringing peace not only to the realm they came from, but the world of Earth. They sealed the portals the Gods had opened, and drove away many remaining aggressive Myths.
The organization of eight swordmasters continues to live on to this day." Van Valeric finishes his tale. "So tell me, can you see the truth of this task?"
"I...indeed, master. If you wish to test this blade's worth, then it shall be done without fail." 
Kalos stood to his feet and bowed, only to realize he wore no clothes as his gaze turned downward. He frowned. "Though perhaps not like this, however."
Van Valeric merely swishes his hand in Kalos' direction, and Kalos finds himself clothed. "Go, don't disappoint me." A portal opens behind Kalos.
Kalos, without another word, bowed to his master and stepped into the portal, anxious to meet this shadow wielding swordsman.
== An Eon Long Forgotten: Curiosity ==
Edim, a world like many others, in an eon long lost. While numerous great kingdoms of enlightened races competed for supremacy, amidst the ashes of war struggled meager, hardly notable beings, possessed of feeble potential and feebler frames, with embers for lifespans. Yet it is this backdrop of meagerness that plays central to our tale, not of grandeur, but simplicity seeking discovery. And something more.
In a small town of 300 people, specifically, of the Edimites, a basic, unassuming race with pink, red, and orange hair colors and vibrant red eyes, one man slowly came to wake in his humble bed. Around him, his belongings packed neatly and tidily in traveling bags. His last day, and as if to remind him of that, a harsh looking male greatly resembling him with a long braided ponytail and angry eyes, dull pink hair, and chiseled frame glares down at him. His brother, Omara.
"I thought you were leaving at first light, Kogu." The disdain in his voice was made plain, but Kogu already knew that he was uncared for in this village he was born in, ever since his spirit for discovery and magic came to light. They'd hardly miss him once he left.
"Lord Omara, I don't see why you even let him take his tools. They'd much better serve our hunters." A scornful female voice speaks, a female Edimite with red hair, cold eyes, and large baby bump looking at Kogu like he was a roach. One of Omara's flings, no doubt. A tendency enabled most likely by his chiefdom after their father left the community in Omara's care, without a mention of Kogu in the will to boot.
Omara shakes his head. "A Magis, yes. And while I don't like being related to one, it doesn't change that he is my brother, and to leave him without so much as a loincloth to his name would bring shame to mine and scorn from our dearly missed Father." He looks at Kogu with stern eyes.
"I still have my honor. So make good use of those weapons, and when you do die in the Realm of Alaria, try not to die embarrassingly, alright?"
"What difference would that make?", Kogu asks before getting out of bed and getting a fresh set of clothes.
"Lords take us." Omara sighs exasperatedly. "Come Tilera. I don't want his magic getting rubbed off on the baby." The two leave, the lady Tilera sneers as she goes.
Kogu rolls his eyes and changes into the clothes he got out. After a few minutes he leaves his room with all his traveling bags and tools, double checking to see he isn't missing anything.
Outside, he sees Omara talking with some of the town warriors, seemingly planning. Tilera is seated next to him, seemingly exhausted. The baby wouldn't be far off from due by his measure of the woman's girth, and the seasons that have already come since it was announced she was carrying. A fall or winter baby by his estimation. But by then...
The Realm of Alaria, the Forbidden Land. Accessed by a phantom bridge with hues akin to that of a rainbow, it was a land of gods and death, for few who made the pilgrimage returned, and those who did spoke of things that could defy all logic or reason. And yet, few possessed magic. A talent he possessed, and a bit more than just that, for he held an ability he shared not even with his tribe: the ability to discern the flow of magic here, there, and everywhere. He was convinced that if anyone might decipher the alien realm, he could. But first... to actually get there.
Among his possessions, one he recently gained was a map that was said to depict the route to the gate of the bridge. The only thing left now before he could depart was supplies of waterskins and food rations. It'd use all his savings, but he'd need it for the journey far to the north.
So he goes to the village trader and offers all he has, and after some rather tense back and forth, he is able to secure enough to last him on his journey. When he has packed his rations, he sets off for the town gate, where an old woman with faded purple hair in long braids awaits, a cowl over her eyes.
"I cannot say that yours is a blessed existence, Magis Kogu. But I offer you the protection of Travelers nonetheless." She holds out a beaded necklace with the markings of the town gods upon it.
"Be weary, and take care of it. There has been violence from the Mal'alari of late. Those fearsome beings have laid waste to a number of fortresses of late."
Kogu takes the necklace from her, "Thank you ma'am, I'll be sure to keep an eye out."
From there Kogu sets out into the vast green plains, with little between him and the endless horizon. Occasionally as he travels north he sees hints of small settlements dotting the land, built near a spring, a fortified hill, or other advantageous landmarks. As days pass, he sees the greens shift to golden wheat fields, and the beginning of forests can be seen in the distance. As he rests his legs later that day, he sees ominous dark clouds roiling with thunder. However, these aren’t normal clouds… but towering plumes of fire and smoke. 
The signs of carnage and ruin, and if he were a betting man, the towering ‘gods’ known as Mal’alari were behind it. If he had to guess, he was still some distance away from them, given that he would have seen them already if he was close enough to the site of battle. Thankfully it seems to not be in the path he had to travel. Still, he should be careful, as those towering titans were beyond any mortal’s strength and deceptively able to advance upon their targets without their knowledge.
Advancing further, he eventually comes to a glade in the deep forest and begins to make camp. Late into the evening however he finally notices the sheer quiet and realizes too late that he is not alone.
An immense shadow looms over him.
”<Azali… Whi Untohntul?>” An immense voice rumbles, in spite of its soft tone it is still deafening. He looks to see an immense humanoid that has charcoal black skin with golden plating with intricate weaving designs composing their forms, dark red patterning glows like vents of a dark volcano. Massive golden feathers adorn a pair of wings on its back, its head crowned by horns. Its red eyes seems to inspect him with a curious, questioning gaze.
With him acknowledging it, the being, unquestionably a Mal’alari, seems to repeat itself. Of course… he has no clue what it said. How could he? There has never been communication like this before.
"I'm sorry but I don't understand what your asking, more so the language in which you speak.", Kogu says respectfully.
What follows is a series of repeated attempts by the being to communicate, until finally it rests its chin on its fingers in thought, before uttering,
"Edtum-visic?" The words were still foreign to him, but not what they were from: another lesser race call the Edtum, and the words their tongue. It appears as though it may actually know some 'mortal' words... if only they knew one he at least had a language cross over in... like..."
When he doesn't seem to respond to the utterance, the being then says...
"<Alfrie-vos?> (Of the Sky People?)". The Alfrie, Sky People, regularly communicated and traded with his kin, so he knew some basic words... and apparently this being was familiar with them too. 
"<I only know some basic words, but yeah.>", Kogu responds with a nod. 
The being seems to think, then gradually what follows is a rough conversation attempting to figure out how to decipher his own language, which takes far less time than he figured it would. Finally…
”A most educational turn of events. Who are you? You are far from where your folk roam and collect. Surely you have seen the work of those to the north? It is not safe in these lands for little ones like yourself.” The best way to describe the being’s voice is melodic, graceful, kind, and a subtle layer of amusement and intrigue, elements that he couldn’t fully make out before they could understand each other. 
"My name's Kogu, though back in my village I'm known as a Magis and not looked favorably upon. So instead of bearing their scrutiny I've decided to travel the world to feed my thirst for knowledge, even if there maybe danger.", Kogu responds. 
"Speaking of which I'm interested in you so could you tell me about yourself?", Kogu says while bouncing in excitement. 
The being watches this and sags. A moment later, the gigantic being dissolves into shadow and reforms into two smaller beings that stand twice his height but far less intimidating. The one on the left has long silky blonde hair parted back from his face, he has fair skin and red eyes, and wields an ornate hammer like that of a smith. He is dressed in refined if not gaudy (to Kogu) robes. The one on the right has short, fluffy black hair and dark red eyes, his skin complexion is ashen. He is adorned in black robes that gives him a mysterious, lordly air. 
The black haired one speaks first. “I am called Mateus Hadali Arsi. The fact one of your diminutive nature can wield magic intrigues me. Perhaps we can make you our apprentice.” 
He looks at the other. “You think he has talent too, right Evoh?” 
The blonde, apparently named Evoh, scowls lightly. “Father was clear that we not needlessly alter the natives in our studies.” 
”Evoh Vor Arsi, you cannot tell me that with a straight face when you KNOW how bad you want to examine these young race’s potential. Also, when do we not say one thing to Father, and double cross him the next?” 
Evoh’s shoulders sag in resignation. “This had better be a good idea, Mateus.” 
Mateus cackles. “I only have good ideas.” 
Evoh sighs. “This is why people call us the Lords of Mischief…” He crosses his arms as he looks at Kogu. 
”We’ll answer questions if you can satisfy our- -Mateus’ curiosity.” 
"That sounds fair, so what are you two specifically?", Kogu asks. 
Evoh just puffs a bit, while Mateus chuckles. “I will support Evoh on this one, please show us what you can do, and we will be as candid as possible.” 
With a snap of his fingers, Evoh creates a block of ice. “This is the basic of basic: a simple ice spell. Destroy it.” 
With some nervousness Kogu looks at the block of ice then his hands before putting them in front of him, pointing at the ice, and starts trying to focus. 
"Magic in that manner..." Evoh muses. 
"Quiet, let him focus." Mateus scolds. 
After a little bit Kogu summons and launches a fire ball, which makes him yelp in surprise. 
Mateus seems to ponder thoughtfully while Evoh crosses his arms at this and when the fireball hits the ice, rather than melting it, it is absorbed and a small spherical hole is punched into the side. 
Mateus looks at Evoh. "Cheeky and underhanded, that was a Concept Cube." 
Evoh returns the look. "You were thinking of it before I was. Anyway, this seems to verify a few things." 
"Aye, by my mark he seems to have the potency of a nascent child." Mateus confirms. He then looks at Kogu. "I trust you are of the typically average 'Magis'?" 
"I guess?", Kogu responds confused. 
The two look at each other and shrug, Evoh then looks at him. 
”We were gauging how potent you are and if we could discern your greater potential. Unfortunately there’s too few variables- -err, bits of information- to really place you as an individual, but at least we know roughly where you are now.” 
Mateus nods. “We can’t quite take you as an apprentice yet, but we would be delighted to see the extent you can go if you have a solid foundation and experience.” 
Evoh seems to think. “We’ll have to teach him plenty if we even want him to do that much.” He then looks Kogu over. 
”Based on your description of your language, there would not be a word to describe us, but it would seem that you likely know our word for us. ‘Alari’. You seem to have invented terms to describe our kin which assail your people for sport, ‘Mal’alari’. ‘Wicked’ would indeed describe them. And unfortunately the name of our people seems to be the same meaning to your people as the word ‘God’.” 
Mateus nods. “Your tribes in this world seem to meet benevolent Alari that protect you from them, and misinterpreted them as gods. An understandable reaction, given your weak existence. However, there are gods, but we pale in comparison. No, we Alari are people of the spirit world, and our true forms cannot be seen unless you can see magic. Your kind have spoken often about our realm, a place that brings madness to the fools who attempted to explore it, yes?” 
"Yeah, it's one of the places I'd like to see.", Kogu responds. 
Evoh nods. “We were thinking of taking you to our realm if your base potential was high enough, but you lack fundamentals. It’s clear that you struggle with actual manifestation and subsequently consistent strength and efficiency. Before anything else, let us teach you some basics and then see if you can learn our magic and language, they are intrinsically linked.” 
Evoh and Mateus begin to give Kogu a crash course of using his mind to visualize his environment and then improve that to use magic to discern information. Once satisfied with this they begin teaching him the concept of Alari language and how magic and language became one in their culture. 
Evoh eyes Kogu critically for a moment. “In summary, the magic of our kin is formatted like you would language: sentence structure, grammar, and the choice of words all impact the outcome of a spell, just as the words you speak make you sound either uncultured or dignified.” 
Mateus follows up, “There are different words for ‘heat’ and ‘fire’, and so describing them as specific as possible results in a very specific spell. ‘Fire’, is loose, undefined, and relies wholly on your imagination and energy pool to determine what happens and is more varied in use but fundamentally weaker and inefficient in its results and power consumption.” 
Evoh nods. “‘Searing Inferno Arrow’ however describes a more focused, specific, and effective spell. The intensity, power, and nature are all specifically defined. You waste much less energy but it requires more time to cast. Do you understand? Do you have questions?” 
"So if I want a powerful spell I need to use 'specific' words, but if I want a quick spell I need to use a word that has a more varied meaning. Did I get that right?", Kogu asks. 
Evoh furrows his brow a bit, but stiffly nods. "In a general sense, you are correct. Ideally you want to endeavor to become capable of at least intermediate casting, which while a bit longer than a one worded spell, also has the benefit of versatility without draining your energy or taking as long as an Invocation, which is often a poem or entire paragraph of words to recite. They're the most specific, deadly, but also time consuming spells, and are required for such thing as creating Familiars, or changing the physical world to-" 
Mateus chuckles. "Evoh, don't get carried away, too much information all at once. But yes, my other is correct, build a good foundation with basic one worded spells, but do not consider that sufficient. After all, children of our kind master such spells quickly, and while it may endear some of our kind to treat you as a child, the Mal'alari of our kind will not hesitate to take advantage or harm you for it. If you're dead set on visiting our realm, you must meet that standard." 
"I get it, I know that basic spells won't get me anywhere in the long haul but in a pinch I'm worried I might fumble over my words.", Kogu says. 
Mateus chuckles. "That is why they call crafts you hone over your whole life a 'discipline' do they not? For that is what it takes to become a well learned wielder of the Words." 
Evoh looks to one side. "We'll compose a tome with the various base words of the Alari. Your task is to study them and show a marked improvement by our next meeting." 
Mateus looks over at Evoh. "Surely you would not leave a young protégé by their lonesome with Mal'alari about?" 
Evoh meets his other with a stern gaze. "What are you suggesting- -Oh no. No no no. You are *not* suggesting we take them to-" 
"It's either that or we put him in Auntie's care. You know how she dotes." Mateus teases. 
Evoh rolls his eyes, shoulders slumping. "You want us to take them to our esteemed center of learning, Xalivar? Or worse still, pester the Queen with an outlander whose proficiency in magic is no more than a five year olds? Have you any idea how annoyed Father-" 
"And that is exactly why we should do it. You know the faces he makes are the best part of his lectures." Mateus grins. 
Evoh stares Mateus down with a dour look before smacking his forehead into a tree in exasperation. "Fine. We'll ask him what he wants to do." His eyes creep toward Kogu. 
"Well? Shall you earn your keep with your peers, and find your footing in Xalivar, or shall we pay a visit to Auntie Zonia and Undyne, and see if they will be gracious enough to host you? The Queens of all Alari?" 
"Will I learn a lot in Xalivar?", Kogu asks. 
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