The Lore of Twilight Elves

To the east of Elvenholme, in those empty places
that fill the space between the remaining lands of the
Eastern Kindred and the Kingdom of Ophidia, the desert
holds a terrible secret. Far from any caravan route the
desert hills open up into a vast round hole. Fringed
by cliffs hundreds of feet high, this pit is sheer-sided
and seemingly impassable. To be lost in the desert and
reach this place would be torment, upon the floor an
unbroken canopy of green can be seen surrounded a
lake. Waterfalls cut quick and clean through the parched
air, raising cool mists. It is an oasis, a green jewel in the
endless brown wastes of Ophidia, but there is no way
down to this verdure, no way to wash the bitter sand
from the mouth, and it is ringed with skeletons of those
who found it and perished within sight of salvation.

In any event, to attempt descent would be foolish in
the extreme, and not only because the forest is home to
huge and terrifying reptiles. This is the Mouth of Leith,
also known as the Pit of Despair. This is the gateway to
the lands of the Twilight Kin.

Elves are as capable of evil as they of good, and although
most choose a life of goodness, there are those to whom
wickedness is irresistible. For long ages the Twilight
Kin were a network of secret cabals within respectable
Elven society whose membership was made up of the
jaded and perverse. They would meet under dark skies
to celebrate the shadowy sides of the Celestians, for the
ancient deities of Mantica encompassed good and ill
within one form.

It was only with the shattering of Fenulian’s mirror that
the Twilight Kin gained real infl uence. As the world fell
from perfect balance into violence, certain magically
gifted members of these cults sought out the attentions
of the Wicked Ones. Flattered by the worship of the most
ancient of races, the Wicked Ones provided the mages
of the Twilight Kin what they desired – quick and easy
roads to power.

With their new found might, these mage-lords corrupted
their kin, appealing to the arrogance of the Elves. They
were the first people, they said, they were the true
masters of the earth. Too long had they bowed their
knees to the Celestians and given too much to the lesser
creatures of the world. At such a time, when the world
was in uproar, their words found a ready audience. And
such Elves who could not be turned by their reason were
twisted by magic. The Eastern and Southern Kindreds in
particular lost many of their brothers and sisters to the
darkness, a secret that is never acknowledged today.

As the Elves fought against the new dark gods they were
suddenly assailed by a fifth column of black-clad Elves.
For the first time in history Elf killed Elf, and the streets
ran with blood. In desperation, Calisor Fenulian called
upon the Shining Ones. In their callow vigour, the new
gods’ response was terrible. Calisor watched in horror
as the Shining Ones smote the lands of the Eastern and
Southern kindreds with a dire curse. A sandstorm blew up
from the deeps of the desert that lasted for one hundred
days. Thousands of elves on both sides perished, and
much that was good was destroyed. The curse continues
today. The desert advances still upon the east and
remaining scraps of the south. Just punishment, some
Elves say. Both these kindreds are somewhat distrusted
even now, no matter that they slew their dark kin far
more readily than the others, such was their shame.

A handful of Twilight Kin fought their way through the
desert’s wrath. They died by the score until only one
hundred remained. Almost blinded by the scouring of
the sand, the mage Kandanareth fell to his knees and
beseeched the wicked ones to save their servants. In
response, the sand shifted. Kandanareth staggered back
as a hole opened in the ground. A cave appeared before
them, leading down into Leith.

Ever since, this has been the home of the Twilight Kin.
Under the sands is a network of caves so extensive they
have never been fully explored. Water-bearing rocks
nourish it. Caverns extend all the way to the sea, where
the slaving fleets of the Twilight Kin are based.

Dwelling in the bowels of the earth has wrought changes
upon the fair Elven form. These Elves are unusually pale
or even blue-skinned. They dislike sunlight, and are
morbid of humour, cruel and wicked. No torment is
too great to be inflicted on others for their amusement.
Slaves from all over the world labour in their fields, the
stinging whips of Elven overseers eager to draw blood
from those who displease them. To enter the Mouth of
Leith is to enter a world of unending suffering, as many
a creature has been unfortunate to discover.


The Twilight Kin are not a numerous race. Lacking the
ability to field large armies, they have become masters
of poison, subterfuge and magic. Assassins walk the
cities of others in the guises of less reviled kindreds,
murdering those their seers foresee will cause problems
for the Twilight kin in the future. Their sorcerers are
terrifyingly powerful, and can bring dark spirits to
serve them. Thus when they do take to the field the
forces of the Twilight Kin are bolstered by all manner of
diabolical evil summoned from the Abyss. Their knights
are mounted on twisted, unnatural creatures. Gargoyles
swarm in the air. Stone idols, imbued with the power of
the Wicked Ones, stride among the ranks of spearmen
and crossbowmen, their fanatical acolytes dancing the
killing dance in their wake.

The Elves are in a state of constant war with the Twilight
Kin, and will ordinarily kill them on sight, except in one
place. In Ileuthar, any Elf is welcome, and the ambassadors
of the dark ones visit court there openly. The Elves treat
with the Twilight Kin, praying for reconciliation, hoping
to turn back their cousins from darkness. As for the
Twilight Kin, they delight in spreading doubt, showing
up the lessened nature of the other Elves with displays
of riches and magical power.