The skies darken over three decrepit lords and their ancient castles which time has passed by. What will become of their traditions, their secrets, their eon old rivalries, as the world beyond seeps in bit by bit? -- Deathshead419
At their mightiest peak, the Elves split this continent into three civilised realms. Their names once caused lesser beings[1] to tremble, and were nigh unpronouncable to all but Elven tongues. Nursery tales would reduce them in later centuries to Lord Forest, Lord Mountain, and Lord Ice.
They gathered once a month for tea and biscuits.
"It's those damned, dirty ape things," complained Lord Mountain. "It was bad enough when they grew the wits to start talking back... now they're taking on airs. Fighting us off from our lands."
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