year 2224
Grayson watched through the foliage as a troop of Elven hunters nimbly pursued a herd of genetically engineered elk through the forest valley. Their graceful, quick movements reflected generations of honed woodland skills.
It had been nearly 20 years since Grayson first set the ancestral simulation in motion that birthed Elven culture. In that time their numbers had swelled to over a hundred thousand. Dozens of hidden settlements now dotted these forests, each oriented around a Sentinel Tree.
Grayson was consistently impressed by how closely the Elves embodied the values he had hoped to instill in them. Their technology advanced, but they applied it with wisdom and sustainability. Their social fabrics were egalitarian and community-focused. They saw themselves as stewards, cultivating the worth of all things.
At times Grayson felt a pang of regret over the deception underlying the Elves' origins. Their 'ancient' history and lore were just an elaborate simulation. In truth, none yet lived over a century. But the disinformation had been necessary to plant deep cultural roots.
The Elves now believed themselves one of the elder races of this world. In a sense it was true. They were a new people, yet children of Grayson's vision to heal the Earth. That dream bound human and Elf closer than either yet realized.
Perhaps the time was nearing when the divide between their peoples might be bridged. But first contact was a fragile thing. Elves had never ventured beyond their forests, nor encountered an intelligent species other than themselves. Until now.
Grayson knew he could continue observing the Elves unseen for many generations more. Their seclusion protected Elven culture and technology from the corrupting forces that had afflicted humankind.
But he was mortal. None yet lived who could succeed Grayson in guiding relations between Elf and mankind. That future could not be left to chance. The Elves must meet their parent race with understanding in place, or never meet them at all.
Stepping out into the open, Grayson made a sound. The Elven hunters whirled, weapons drawn. They stared at the strange being before them - his garb and features unlike any Elf. Grayson raised his hands slowly.
"Be at peace. I mean you no harm."
The lead hunter hesitated. "You trespass in these woods unknown. What manner of creature are you?"
"I am called Grayson. My people are... different from yours. We have watched your kind prosper from afar, marveling at your achievements. The time has come for us to meet."
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The Elves exchanged wary glances. The lead hunter kept her arrow nocked. "I am Serys. Our elders tell of no other peoples. Why do you reveal yourself to us now?"
Grayson considered his words. "Great change is coming to these lands. Soon you will encounter beings like me more frequently. I wish to establish bonds of trust before that day arrives."
Serys pondered this. "Bonds flow from mutual understanding. You ask much without revealing your true nature. Come to our village. Our elders will judge if you speak the truth."
It was a better reception than Grayson hoped. "Lead on then. But know I come in friendship - to learn, not to teach."
As he walked with the hunters, Grayson silently sent a message to Egg. Soon, for the first time in history, human and Elf would meet as equals. There could be no going back. The future began today.
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The Kobold Way
Deep within the hollowed trunk of an ancient consumption tree, a lively group of kobolds chittered and scurried about. Sunlight streamed in from openings high above, nourishing the parasitic seedling symbiotically fused with the tree.
The kobolds worshipped this infant sapling as their matron, bringing it offerings and scraps to accelerate its growth. In return it would one day provide fruits to sustain the troupe. This covenant had existed for eons between kobold and tree.
The troupe's leader, an elderly kobold called Oakroot, peered out from the central nest surveying his domain. He gave a satisfied snort then turned to groom his dusty brown scales. His position was hard-won through cunning and audacity.
Like all kobold leaders, Oakroot was tasked with guiding his troupe to pay tribute to the tree and provide for their collective. It was a simpler struggle than that faced by the Elves - there were no grander philosophies or advanced technologies. Only the raw drive to survive and see the next generation into maturity.
The kobolds believed their lifelong bond to a tree imbued meaning into their existence. When a tree flourished, so did its inhabitants. This was reflected in a points system tracking the troupe's contributions.
Daily actions like foraging food, collecting water, defending from threats and maintaining the warrens were assessed for their worth to the community. Kobolds sought to maximize their points through diligence. For Oakroot, that meant clever resource management.
He turned his gaze to the stockpile of nuts filling the far warren. It would sustain the troupe when winter stripped the forest bare. Oakroot's shrewd rationing in the past had earned high points for that providence.
Likewise the strange objects he sometimes commanded the troupe to gather - shiny stones, fallen elf tools, scraps of the mysterious white substance from the dying places. Oakroot didn't know their purpose, yet his instinct said they would prove valuable.
For now, it was a quiet sunny day. The seedling's leaves rustled contently as kobolds scampered up the trunk to laze in the warm bower. Their watchful eyes scanned the horizon beyond while tiny claws tended the sapling's fresh shoots with care.
This was the Way - mutual reliance between clever kobold and stoic tree. When the world beyond turned harsh, their bond preserved them. Come flood or fire, famine or foes, the troupe survived in the sanctum of their matron's embrace.
So it had been for ages past. So it would remain, until the last leaves fell and ended the kobold's purpose. Though generations rose and dwindled, old trees welcomed new caretakers. That continuity was the only forever the kobolds knew.