The Fire Of The Thyvesse Archive

 Between the rivers Thyvesse and Mouric lay the Lonely Myrvial Tree, around with the elven village of Louriev. A brilliant village built in tandum with the tree, never invading but always sharing the tree itself. This was the last Elven Village which could speak with the trees, which could teach them, and be taught by them.

Due to this tandom, the village had two major resources:

The first, Myrvial. A special type of wood found only from this tree. A self-regenerating wood that allowed structures like the homes of the elves to stand centuries without repair, lest they be removed completely.

And the second, knowledge. Louriev was home to the greatest archive in Elvish history: The Thyvesse Archive. Containing all known elvish records, and in many cases the sole records of certain events and discoveries, The Thyvesse Archive is one of the many prides of the Elvish peoples, and is often sought out by young scholars and old, Elvish and not, solving ancient problems and new ones, using the advice added both by the founders, and by the forefront of Elvish science, and history.

Mourella, or I suppose "Chief" of the village Louriev was a humble but ancient elf by the name of Thrill, a wise man with a passion for the dramatic and mischevious, with his daughter Elvina, a capable scholar with a nifty hand for the bow, who spent almost all of her time in the Archive.

Together they were quite capable leaders. Thrill would often be the one to negotiate trade, immigration, resources, production, though each decision brought on only with the help of his daughter, who kept records both physical and mental, of the materials they kept, the elements they needed, the situation their various subjects were in, the like.

For one hundred years, this was how things were, untested. And neither were bound, no. In that time, now and again, any member of the society was capable of leaving for a new home, or just a journey, and their spot would be covered by the rest, no questions asked. Unlike the pretentious elves you may have heard through rumor and tale, these elves valued their very existance on a plane equal to each other.

Then, there came the demon. Five weilders of flame, each bearing a white expressionless mask with naught but a symbol on each. The same symbol on each.

Vix - The Elvish symbol for Death.

These men of death proclaimed themselves the emmisarries of a group known as "The Chosen Few", who deemed the knowledge of the Elves cursed, and blamed the Archive for the faults of the Elves.

And so, on this day, these five men snuck their way into the archive.. and set it ablaze.

As far as any was capable of finding, their goal was just the archive. Thousands of years of history and science, but just that.

But they were inexperianced casters. Fools to their name. In the very act of casting the spell, one cast it upon himself and boiled himself from the inside out. The others successfully set the archive ablaze, but two were trapped in the building as it collapsed, and were found later with their lives long lost.

The fire spread to the village, to the Mryvial Tree itself. Everything burned, everything blazed. The fire reached the Mourellian chambers and took, with no hesitation, the life of Trill Irsheine.

The fire raced through the village, the screams of the lost and the living were heard echoing, as the tree itself seemed to shout for help.

It's prayers were answered by the river. The water flooded the tree and the village, filling the area between the rivers with water, desperately working with the elves to extinguish the tree.

But one elf thought nothing of this ancient treasure, as she sat in the Mourellian chambers, her world lost to a flame. The fury of her many years of love and care torn asunder burned within her heart like an ancient mountain spewing fire for the first time in centuries.

Elvina had always been a firey lass, but what I saw that day was not charm or heart. She left, hunting them down, thinking nothing of the village.

I'm not sure if I blame her for doing so.

Loriella, goddess of the tree, has birthed many great miracles. The river's water, the tree's leaves, the life that breathes this planet.

Never did I imagine that the daughter of the rivers, loved by the tree, would ever be fiercer than a scholar interrupted.

Never did I imagine the Myr-Shie to wear death's mask upon her heart.

 

- Nilvriech Irvishmein, Grandmaster of the Vix Thyvesse Archive.