Dark elves.
A society built upon the pillars of slavery, rape and murder.
Among the elven races, dark elves are the most hated. The reason for such disparity is quite simple. While in all sense and capacity, dark elves are just as intelligent as any other elven race, they have willingly chosen to embrace brutality and all kinds of dark practices. The only language which they seem to truly understand is the language of power and violence.
Since thousands of years, dark elves have retreated to the forgotten places of Rixa. Such as the lost sections of the deep roads, faraway forests and deserts. Places so hostile to human life that no one even entertained the idea of living there permanently. Yet, they build their cities in such places. It is believed that they specifically chosen those very places, because the harsh environments provide an ideal place to create a state of constant struggle.
True or not, it is unquestionable that dark elves are rumored to be the most brutal and feared warriors and battle magic casters walking the surface of Rixa. They are the ones used in the tales to scare the children at night. The stories that soldiers tell each other over the light of a dimming campfire.
However, the main reason for the one sided hatred of dark elves is hidden in their well-known tendency to often raid towns or smaller cities of civil races. Doing that in the midst of the night. They slaughter or enslave the innocent denizens, taking the survivors back to their black cities.
For a long time, nobody knew what fate awaited the captured souls, then through a few miraculous escapes, we slowly learned about the sobering reality. The enslaved people are used for various purposes all to fuel the workings of dark elven society, which is innately dependent on slavery.
Men and women are used in fighting pits for entertainment to make bets or settle disputes. They are also used as common labor. Women are often beaten and raped, then chained and kept under close watch in the breeding houses. Where they are cared for and essentially forced to give birth to their owner’s children. While being threatened and humiliated on a daily basis.
The bodies of the ones who die are fed to the spiders which are the dark elves preferred mounts, while those who survive the beatings and humiliation are sold as processed slaves to the noble houses, where their nightmare continues.
There are six known castes in dark elven society. Among these six, the three upper castes are considered being the so-called noble castes, meaning pureblood dark elves. The first caste is naturally the ruling caste of dark elves, including the emperor himself. Unfortunately, there is little to know about this caste, aside from the emperor likely being a most powerful magic wielder. Since otherwise he could not rule over other mages in a society that only respects power.
The second caste is made from all kinds of magic wielders, whose primary focus is on battle magic, each of them holding a powerful influence in dark elven society.
The third caste is made from pureblood dark elves who are not blessed with magic.
It is important to know that aside from open wars, pureblood dark elves are rarely seen on battlefields. Since dark elves share the slow reproduction of all elven kinds, they rarely participate in common raids, where a lucky arrow can cut their life short.
Dark elven culture, as I said, is heavily dependent on raw strength and showcasing such strength in public as often as possible. Still, pure blood dark elves are considered very precious. Therefore, duels to the death among noble dark elves are strictly regulated by law. Such duels are only allowed to happen on extremely rare occasions, usually fuelled by grave insults or ceremonial occasions.
Such events are very rare, and necessitate the presence of a member from the royal house. Most grudges and rivalry among the nobles are dealt through slaves fighting to the death for the cause of their masters.
Outside of specific conditions, openly assaulting other nobles among dark elven society is considered a grave deed that is heavily punished by the higher aristocracy. In contrast, mock battles and battles to first blood are common sights among the nobles.
Most of their time is spent on training fields, hunting and on attempts to undermine other nobles in their castes as the internal workings of dark elven politics expects from them.
One step below in the fourth castes are the half-elves. They are children of dark elves that forced themselves upon kidnapped women and conceived a child through vile means. The children are taken from their mothers and raised to be members of dark elven society from a very young age. They are the equivalent of common citizens, in case if we compare them to human society. They can live a good enough life under the leadership of their noble house. They often lead raiding groups made up of fifth castes who make up the majority of dark elven military.
The fifth castes are partially made out of processed slaves, specifically picked out from survivors of the fighting pits and the children of first generation slaves with some aptitude in bloodletting. If they are not elves, their ears are mutilated to be similar to those of dark elves. An act that is considered being an honor and a sign of acceptance. Members of this caste are also chosen from the ranks of children of enslaved women unfortunate enough to be raped by half-dark elves or fifth castes who usually share a third or at least a quarter of dark elven blood. Therefore, sharing the natural characteristics of dark elven features. They are still considered being a step higher compared to trained slaves even if they are in the same caste.
The last caste, which is the lowest caste of all, is made out from first generation slaves. People who have no rights. They can be killed, raped, humiliated and beaten by practically any member of the other five castes and nobody would blink an eye. It is no surprise that most of them die in the first months of their capture, but there are always new slaves that the dark elves bring to fill their cities with new victims.
General dark elven characteristics:
Dark elves are leaner than humans and more agile by nature. Pure dark elves can live about a thousand years. Their height is about the same as humans, while having a pointy ear and skin color that ranges between black to pale white and all shades of grey between. Dark elves usually have a red or orange eyes and on rare occasions black. Their blood is rich in magic, which means they have an abundance of magic casters. Most of them are only capable of using a few spells, but that already makes them fierce and unpredictable enemies. Since you can never be sure when will they throw a fireball or a fistful of acid into your face.
They also have an impeccable dark vision that makes it almost impossible to face them in their own environment. The thought of dark elven arrows piercing through the suffocating darkness and finding their targets easily makes many war hardened veteran burst out in a cold sweat.
Extract from the book titled “The Intelligent Races of Rixa” written by human scholar Viscanu Winfred.
I slowly came to consciousness, awakened by the tormenting headache that was splitting my head in two.
When I opened my eyes, I was welcomed by the familiar suffocating darkness of the deep roads. Yet this time, it was even more intimidating, as the darkness seemed to be absolute.
I felt a sense of panic lingering on the edges of my mind, but I tried my hardest to rein in the dreadful sensation. Knowing that panicking in an unfamiliar situation would only make things worse.
Still… the sharp pain in my face was killing me. I could feel that the left side of my jaw and eye were swollen and bruised. My left eye only opened partially, and moving my jaw sent sparks of pain up and down on the side of my face.
I whimpered silently. Taken aback by the vivid pain that assaulted me as I gently touched the bloody contours of my swollen left eye and cheek.
Just then, I heard some movements not far from me. I looked around hesitantly, but of course, I couldn’t see anything in the stifling darkness. I instinctively felt for my staff, only to realize that I could not find it anywhere.
This realisation filled me with a fresh wave of anxiety. I have grown attached to my staff over the short time I spent in this terrifying fantasy world. It was a symbol of my magic, providing a source of safety and stability in this vortex of chaos. The sudden loss of it filled me with uncertainty and dread. It made me feel vulnerable, as if half of my strength was lost overnight. The staff passively reinforced my magic, becoming an extension of my being, and now I couldn’t find it however I tried.
I bit down on my already bruised and swollen lips in my anxiety. Fueled by a panicked attempt to find my stuff, I decided to use my light magic to look for it. Taking a deep breath, then creating a small floating orb of light in my palm. Thankfully, I could cast spells without the staff, but it was a lot harder this way.
When the magic came to life, there were two things I realized.
First, I was in some sort of tent, and second, I was not alone.
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Two surprised gasps sounded in the small place. Causing me to freeze up. I slowly looked around with wide silver eyes, afraid to find whom those voices belonged to.
As I looked for the other presences, I suddenly locked eyes with a pair of pristine blue eyes that were narrowed to thin slits, being on the receiving and of my light magic.
I stared at the woman shamelessly as I took in her ragged appearance. She had bronze skin color and a well-toned body shape. Strange tattoos were marking her body, slithering over her naked arms and even reaching the sides of her face in the form of black, thorny vines. The woman was wearing dirty and ripped clothes, which one’s once might have been considered well made. Seeing how detailed they were in some of the still recognisable areas.
Then… I saw her ears… they were pointy, just like mine.
“An elf?” — Those words left my mouth as a result of my surprise.
Which caused the woman to frown at me, her eyes slowly getting used to the new source of light in the tent.
While we stared at each other, a different and this time familiar voice sounded behind me. Immediately reminding me of the other presence.
“Is… is that you, Selora?” — Camilla’s voice sounded relieved, yet missing the cheerfulness which I was beginning to associate with her. It took me a few seconds to recognize her voice being so serious as she continued emotionally. — “Thank the gods,” — She sniffed. — “I thought that you died, being so still all this time… You wouldn’t wake no matter how hard I called out to you.” — Sounded the familiar voice, and I immediately turned around to find Camilla on the other end of the small tent.
The moment I looked at her, she gasped in worry, staring at me with a pitiful expression. I winced at her reaction, immediately reminded of my injury. It must be a sight to see.
As I thought about that, the memories of the ambush and the glimpse of the incoming armored fist blinked into my mind, and I quickly put things together, coming to the conclusion that we were in a world of trouble.
I was not naïve… I watched enough war movies and read more than enough history books to easily answer the potential reasons for why women were captured in violent raids.
I pressed my lips together, forming a thin desperate line in the wake of this realisation. I was not going to sit around and wait for them to pop my cherry.
Driven by this very decision, I stood up and almost fell back to the ground with the same momentum, as my legs felt numb and shaky under my weight. Still, I managed to stay on my feet and attempted to walk over to Camilla. Only to be halted by the pull of a clanking chain locked around my right ankle. I caught myself miraculously a second time, almost falling on my face again. I was surprised seeing the chain, as I didn’t even notice the existence of it until now, because of the numbness in my legs.
As I examined it further, I quickly saw that the other end was tied to a thick pole which was pierced into the ground, holding me in place. I glanced at the other two women, quickly asserting that they were tied down similarly or even more in case of the fierce-looking elf.
I shook my head in disgust. I was not entirely sure about dark elves until now. I mean, based on one encounter, you can hardly judge an entire race. However, seeing that my second interaction with them has gone south quickly, and now they want to enslave and probably rape me. It was enough of an indication for me to make up my mind for good.
Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice called out to me in an excited whisper.
“Child… I see now that your human friend didn’t lie… You can indeed conjure magic. Are you capable of breaking the chains without the help of your conduit?” — The elven woman asked. I could see a spark of hope ignited in those blue eyes of hers.
“Oh god, yes! Please let that be the case! I don’t… I don’t want to end up like this…” — Camilla pleaded, her breathing heavy and slightly wheezy.
I winced, remembering that bastard who pummeled her side. It was more than likely that she had at least one broken rib, which needed to be treated sooner than later.
The elf immediately scolded the panicking girl. — “Breathe slowly, human, as I told you earlier. Just focus on your breathing. Our fate is in your friend’s hands now. For the dark ones have no pity to spare.”
Camilla swallowed another whimper as she listened to those words.
I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows turning towards the elven woman. I didn’t like the way she treated my friend, but I suppose it was not the time to argue about it. Also… it seemed to help Camilla rein in her panic, which was good.
I focused on the ice spell, which I was getting quite familiar with quickly realizing that the effects of the spell dispersed over time, likely when I was knocked unconscious.
I gathered my focus, preparing to cast the magic for the first time without my staff’s aid.
“Quickly, break the chains if you can, child!” — The elf urged me in the background and I only grunted affirmatively while focusing my magic.
It was harder to concentrate the power without the conduit, or more like I was simply unused to do so and the constantly distracting pain didn’t help either. I swore under my breath in my frustration that I will not be so dependent on my staff if I survive this.
I finally started to chant the spell, whispering the words. I recently understood that it did not make any difference in the power of the spell, if I shouted the words or barely spoken them in a whisper, until the words were properly spoken.
“Winter of the coldest north, frozen rivers and blinding snow. Hear my woe! For those who do not fear the coldest grasp of nature, shall be the first to learn of its apathy.”
The words left my mouth with the same familiarity, as if I have cast this spell a thousand times prior. Props of it being engraved into my mind, I guess.
As I endured the familiar cold shivers running through my bones after the spell came to be. I immediately turned towards the chain that was shackling me to the pole. I scrutinized a place between two links where the material was the thinnest and focused a burst of my magic into freezing it.
Soon, a concentrated ice crystal formed on the ground, fixing the metal in place. I pulled on the chains harshly, but it did not break. I huffed, then I conjured an axe made of ice next to it and slowly grasped its handle. To my surprise, touching the ice indeed felt warm. No matter how my mind expected it to feel freezing cold. It was a confusing sensation that made you dizzy if you truly thought about it.
Which I did not, as I lifted the axe and delivered a powerful strike on the frozen chain, causing it to snap in a loud clink.
“Incredible…” — The elven woman watched my display of magic and commented on it in barely withheld awe.
I decided to ignore her for now. As I walked over to Camilla, the now cut chain dragged behind me as I repeated the same process on her chain, this time trying to cut it as close to her ankle as possible.
The dangling chains were already getting on my nerves. Not even mentioning the constantly pulsing pain coming from my head and face.
After the process was done. I helped Camilla to her feet. She was clearly roughed up. There were bruises on her face and neck. At least they were not swollen like mine, but she was clearly beaten up badly. Probably the result of trying to fight back after I blacked out.
“Can you walk?” — I asked her, seeing how she flinched with every step.
Now that her chain was cut, she seemed more of her regular self, giving me a hesitant smile with a bit of warmth. — “I think I have sprained my ankle, but I will manage… what about you? I don’t want to scare you, Selora, but your face looks like you stuck your head into a beehive and then forgot about it.”
I froze for a moment, and throw a horrified glance at her… — “… It can’t be that bad, can it?” — I asked in a wheezing voice, to which the girl broke eye-contact with a hesitant chuckle and started to stare at the ground in front of her feet.
I gulped down my saliva as a knot started to form in my throat. I cut off the excess chains from my ankle as if to distract myself from my injuries. Then shook my head and walked over to the other elf in the room.
She was already frustrated by us chatting about meaningless stuff, and was just about to call out for me when I got to her side.
I thought about not letting her go for a second. I didn’t know anything about her and she could be dangerous and probably was. Based on the fact that, unlike us, she was tied down by two chains instead of one.
Then I decided to take the risk. Seriously, fuck it. I am not going to leave her to be a plaything of dark elves or whatever those bastards were. I was still very much shaken by the thought of being taken for such purposes.
Living as a man until a fine old age while never having to fear about such stuff was a luxury I have taken for granted. Regarding the new experience… well, it wasn’t funny. I was disgusted from the very idea of imagining myself being put in such a helpless position.
Not even mentioning my still very much present problems with accepting my new sex. I was pretty sure that if such terrible things would have come to pass… well, best not to think about it. I refocused on the task at hand.
It took a minute to cut both of her chains. Thankfully, the entire process consumed a low amount of mana, even without my staff.
Thinking about said staff, after I helped the woman to her feet, I inquired about the possibility if she had any idea where my staff might have been stored.
To my surprise, the one who answered was Camilla.
“They did not bring your staff with them. I kicked it under the cart after you fainted. It should still be there, under the broken down cart.” — I frowned at Camilla, about to question her decision. Seeing my expression, she added hastily.
“Which is lucky, because if they realized that you were the mage that killed a few of their men, they would have either cut out your tongue by now or stuffed your mouth with something that would have stopped you from chanting incantations.” — I paled at the revelation, my expression immediately morphing into a thankful one.
Seeing the drastic change, Camilla’s features softened as she bumped me on the shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood.
The other elf stared at the light-hearted interaction between us, then cut in with a flustered voice. — “If we manage to escape this place, I will be looking forward to the explanation of what a high elf girl-child is doing in the lost parts of the deep roads… especially one that could wield such dangerous battle magic without the help of a conduit while didn’t even breaking a sweat.” — The woman spoke in an ominous tone.
Great… that was just what I needed… I sighed, but nodded to the overbearing woman, who seemed to appreciate my agreement.
Unlike Camilla.
“She is not a high elf… can’t you see that she is a w-… uhm!?” — I stepped closer to her and… clasped my left palm around her mouth, effectively stopping her from finishing that sentence.
The elven woman watched my actions with a pair of suspiciously narrowed eyes, giving me a silent promise that this topic was far from over.
I sighed, while Camilla’s eyes furrowed into the back of my head. — “Why did you do that?” — The girl demanded after I lifted my hand from her mouth, but I ignored her. She should learn to not spout other’s secrets left and right without a thought.
“I will heal you later…” — I added, in an attempt to appease her.
“Would you two cut the crap at last and focus on escaping? I fail to understand how the two of you keep getting distracted...” — Came the annoyed whisper that brought us back into reality.
I thought about that and began an explanation.
“… Well, both of us are kind of beaten up. I think I have a concussion and probably Camilla has one too, among other things.” — I said, being completely serious about it. I was feeling strangely lightheaded and distractible. Occasionally catching myself staring into nothingness for seconds before realizing it and moving on.
I noticed that the woman was now staring at me with disbelief.
“Oh… you didn’t expect an answer to that… sorry.” — I added after realising that it was, but a poetic question.
The woman shook her head, saying, — “Children…” — under her breath, but in a tone that made it sound like a curse word.