Silverwood (Rift Lore)  

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After the gods made the world and its many peoples, Tavril the nature goddess called the Elves together in Silverwood. At the Mirror of Ages, she bade them forever defend the untamed places of Telara. The Elves took up this Covenant, and through the age of prosperity and the Age of Dragons, through the rise and fall of the Eth, and of Mathosia, they have remained stewards of the wild. Elves can be found in any wilderness, but beautiful Silverwood will always be their home. It is through Elven diligence that Silverwood remains pristine and beautiful while the rifts have turned other forests into monster-choked nightmares. Yet this is not to say that Silverwood is free of rifts, for the planes constantly seek toeholds throughout the forest. A wild swath of cherry trees might see pink blossoms replaced with roaring flames as a Fire Rift sets the branches alight. Sunken Marsh, once a thriving wildlife refuge, saw its ecosystem destroyed in minutes by the ravening beasts from the Plane of Life. The remaining Elves of House Aelfwar strive to preserve Silverwood, and no cost is too great.

Heart of Alliance

The Elves who stayed true to Tavril's oath held themselves aloof from the technocratic Eth, but found common ground quickly with the righteous Mathosians. Even before the rise of their empire, the Elves allied with the northern tribesmen, allowing them to build Port Scion just across from Divine Landing, at the southern coast of Silverwood. Now, this once-glorious city is a Death-haunted ruin, where necrotic tendrils sway hideously behind the city walls. Not every symbol of human-Elf cooperation has been consumed by the Vigil's enemies. Quicksilver College still stands, indisputably the greatest school of magic in the history of Telara. Just as in days of old, Mathosian, Elven, and even Dwarven adepts enroll at Quicksilver to learn the arcane arts. Now the Ascended can walk these storied halls, performing epic tasks for the staff and guards to keep Quicksilver College stocked with research materials and free from planar control.

The last “true” Elves

The Elven folk have lost so much; nearly half their kind abandoned the oath to become the impetuous Kelari, and most of their forests have been ravaged by the rifts. Recently, the flower of Elven society fought and died in the Mathosian Civil War, a conflict that many of their fellow Elves feel had nothing to do with defending the wild. Among these fellow Elves is Prince Hylas of House Aelfwar, who refused to accept the Ascended High Elves as true Elves, and refuses yet more sternly to have anything to do with the Guardians. Thus, House Aelfwar sees itself as without allies in defending Silverwood from rifts, cults, and the Elves' ancient enemies, the goblins. Word spreads that Hylas, once a living symbol of virtue, has turned his House to drastic measures to preserve Silverwood. Hylas himself has recently exhibited proficiency in Life magic for the first time in his centuries-long life, and no record exists that he ever attended Quicksilver College. Though House Aelfwar fights the Wanton tooth and nail, they do not challenge the boglings of Sunken Marsh or the Fae of Hedgerow Court. Hylas has gone so far as to outlaw iron weapons, the bane of all Faeries, from being carried in Silverwood. Worse, reports have reached Sanctum that volatile faetouched Magic has been allowed to seep into the Mirror of Ages. If Hylas would allow corruption to reach the spot where the Elves first struck their Covenant with Tavril, than even the watcher at the Mirror— a statue grown from a living tree— has cause to weep.

My dear Prince Hylas,

Though you have called me enemy, the birds and beasts tell me of your woes. As a fellow guardian of the wild, my heart goes out to you. I too know the sting of a loved one's betrayal. Your Priestess Shyla has always been too eager to spend her time with the Mathosians. Now she has returned from the dead and claimed this was the work of your gods, and yet… there is but one force I know that can animate the dead, and his name is Regulos.

We need not be enemies, O Prince. We share a common love of nature and the pristine wild, and a common loathing of the Guardians, who manage to blend the stink of death with the pomposity of religion. You remind me very much of the magnificent Fae— such as myself— who hail from the deepest parts of the Plane of Life. Even now, I have access to power that would save your beautiful Silverwood with ease. You need only ask.

A kindred spirit,


Lord of the Fae

  1. ^ [ Official Lore


Categories: RIFT | Lore (RIFT)
This page last modified 2011-04-26 14:25:34.