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The Legend of the Yacura Osta Tel'quessir [The Ancient Regalia of the People]

During the ninth age of the third cycle of Dragons, the Tel’Quessir were still young, barely one thousand years had passed since we came to populate this land.  Our people were brave and strong of heart as we fought for survival in a world surrounded by evil.  A few centuries prior Correlon Larethian, the all father, came to us from the heavens to teach the art of magic to the people, giving us a fighting chance against the darkness.  As the strength of our bows and might of our magic’s grew we were able to push back the darkness, allowing our people to grow and flourish in safety.  As the population and power of the elves grew tribes began to come together forming larger communities, eventually into nations.  Within the span of barely a few centuries the countless tribes of the elves had formed into four great kingdoms.  The rapid growth of these kingdoms did not go unnoticed, for great evil stalked the land.  Dragons, the kings of magic and overlord of all creatures that walk upon the earth did not take kindly to an upstart race that dared to challenge their power.

            The first contact civilized contact with the dragons [prior contact was only as food to them] occurred shortly after the great elf hero, Megiltura, struck the first blow against the dragons saving the town of Mithr from devastation at the claws of a black dragon, named Gothrim.  The slaying of Gothrim brought the attention of the dragons, which until now mostly ignored our people.  It was in the central town of the Mith'Quessir kingdom that a huge and ancient black dragon landed in the central square.  It demanded that our people hand over the elf that killed Gothrim, and that all swear to serve, or risk extermination.  The elves refused, led by Megiltura, the elves unleashed powerful spells and precision arrows into the arrogant dragon.  The battle was won with the [elf hero]’s blade penetrating the blacken heart of the foul beast.  The town was in ruins but the elves scored their first real victory against the winged terrors. 

            The death of one of the oldest of black dragons sent shockwaves throughout the dragons.  A council of the oldest of the dragons decided that elves were too dangerous to be allow to live and must be exterminated.  With that the dragons attacked in force, razing villages and destroying the proud kingdoms of the elves.  The elves fought back, killing many lords of the sky, but were no match for their strength and power.  The mental and magical power of the dragons was so great that whole towns fell under their dominating control, seeking out others of their kind to kill them for their scaly masters.   As the Elven people teetered at the brink of extinction, Megiltura gathered the most powerful of high wizards remaining together to devise a weapon that could be used to save the elves from annihilation.  In secret they toiled, using the high magic of the elves, divine power of the gods, and the flesh and blood of fallen dragons they fashioned the regalia that would serve as our peoples salivation. 

            From the high priests of Ithil'Quessir came a helm, made of velarnium, a gift from the gods themselves, granting divine wisdom and the power to resist the will of all others.  From the wizards of Mith'Quessir came a Scepter forged in dragons blood that gave the wielder power over the land and the sky.  From the arcane armors of Taur'Quessir came a suit of mail, fashioned from the skin of dragons, making the wearer impervious to their attacks.  The artisans of Taur'Quessir fashioned a Torc of platinum, so regal and awe inspiring that it gave the wearer the power to free our people from the control of their dragon masters.  Finally to give their champion the power to slay the mighty beasts Megiltura gave his sword, the first Elven steal to ever drink the hearts blood of a dragon.  To ensure the artifacts were never used against the elves or for ill purpose the master craftsmen and Megiltura, who created the regalia gave one last thing, their souls.  Each in turn they bound themselves to the regalia, forever ensuring only the worthy would use them.

            As the dragon army approached the elders argued over who should don the regalia and lead the Elven people.  A dozen of them tried to wear it, only to be instantly destroyed, as the regalia found them unworthy.  The remaining elders retired to council, unsure of what to do.  While they debated, a young elf, not even a century in age was drawn to the regalia and put it on, as he completed his task a crackle of energy filled the air.  When the elders came to see what the commotion was, they found they boy standing there bathed in angelic light, with the regalia firmly in place. 

            The young boy led the remaining Elven armies to the fields of battle.  The dragons smiled as they sensed that this battle would end the war against the elves, securing them victory.  The Elven thralls lead the charge, but as they approached the Elven battle lines the boy stood forward using the Torc to remove the dragons influence.  Enraged at the loss of their fodder they attacked in mass.  Griping the Scepter the boy commanded the sky and summoned a cyclone to blow away the dragon attackers.  All of the dragons were pushed from the battlefield but one, the oldest and strongest of the red dragons, Ksherea.  Ksherea fought through the cyclone and used his powerful magic to control the boy, but the helm protected him.  Next he summoned up gouts of flame that would incarnate whole forests, but the boy walked towards the beast, unharmed.  As the boy closed the distance to Ksherea the ancient and powerful, had the look of fear about him.  The boy brought up the sword, Loki’gurtha, which killed the first dragon and gave us our freedom from their rule, and plunged it into the heart of the ancient beast.  The sound of Ksherea’s fall was so great that it could be heard across the land.  Striking fear into all of dragon-kin, they were forced into full retreat to their caves and mountaintops. 

            After the war the boy slammed the Scepter into the earth causing a spire to rise up from the ground, reaching for the heavens.  He informed the assembled elves that this spire shall stand for all time as the capital of a new Elven kingdom, created for the protection and well being of all elves.  With that he turned and vanished, never to be heard from again.  Legend states that when the elves are again in a time of great need, the regalia will appear again, to be used to save all of Elvendom.