| ITHNISHMYN AND THE ELVEN NATIONS
A few hundred years after Ithnishmyn was established a group of elves, sent out from Ta'Illistim to search for unknown rivers and hamlets that could be annexed, became lost and inadvertently stumbled upon Ithnishmyn. Huge banks of ferns and rare forest flowers growing on every side adorned the feet of the colossal trees, and within this idyllic setting was the 'fleet' of graceful sylvan dwellings. Having been cut off from sylvan art and architecture for a number of generations, the intruders were awed by Ithnishmyn's beauty.
After showing these visitors the normal sylvan hospitality for a few days, it was clear to the sylvans that the time had come for them to leave. However, the question of how to accomplish it was a conundrum for the sylvans. There was strong dispute among members of the high council, whether to allow these elves to return to their homes bearing tales of Ithnishmyn or to prohibit their departure. It was decided that preventing them from leaving could only effectually be accomplished by killing them, and this was unacceptable.
So, in hopes that the elves would not be able to recall their convulted route of arrival, the Elves were blindfolded and, guided by sylvan guards, marched in a zigzag route for a hundred leagues away from Ithnishmyn. Despite the precautions, one of the Illistim elves was a particularly gifted woodsman and managed to memorize their path. Within a month of their return to Ta'Illistim, a caravan was being readied to retrace the journey, equipped with a detailed map to guide the way.
Tales of Ithnishmyn's beauty ran like wildfire through Ta'Illistim, and soon jumped to other elven cities. The initial map was copied again and again, and distributed at great profit to the hordes of adventurers wishing to make the pilgrimage to the fabled city of the sylvans. The elf who had originally drawn the map, based on her careful mental schematic of the long, arduous trip, registered the map under the strict Ta'Illistim copyright laws. It wasn't long before she had formed a business with tables of scribes all busily drawing copies of the original document, an enterprise that made her very wealthy.
Called the Ransefel Map of Sylvia, named for its author, Sistryni Ransefel, the map became a famous icon throughout the Elven Nations, and copies of the original editions that survived through the years became valuable artifacts. Those featuring Ransefel's signature were eventually deemed priceless.
Visitors began to make the journey with goals other than trade. They came to study the sylvans, to convert the sylvans to various religious cults, and numerous other ambitions. Some had less savory purposes; a small black-market specializing in young sylvan slaves was born in covert areas of the elven cities.
Knowing the futility of keeping the tide of visitors out, the sylvans decreed that all who managed to reach the distant city must register their arrival, and none could stay longer than the three days considered by the sylvans to be the bare minimum of hospitality, unless invited to do so by the governing council of hierophants. It is believed that among the rare individuals to be given such permission was an ascetic scholar named Raolawei Ly'Setta who exchanged his knowledge of the written elven language for permission to remain among the sylvans for the remainder of his lifetime.
Their coffers swelled by an unprecedented success in trade and commerce, wealthy elves living within their gilded mansions learned of Ithnishmyn's reclusive mystery and set about gaining a look for themselves. A flood of expeditions began to cross the forests between elven cities and Ithnishmyn, and as the intrusions became more and more numerous, the sylvans grew disquieted. The disturbing occasional disappearance of sylvan children was a primary concern.
Basic sylvan philosophy forbade them to harm anything that posed no visible threat; nonetheless, various individuals with the Ithnishmynian council proposed that the intrusions of outside politics and beliefs constituted a formidable threat to the sylvan way of life. The high council was called to address the 'elven problem,' and Eislemar Nathlai, the charismatic leader of a popular political group, drove its discussions.
He proposed that the council allow no more emissaries from the elven cities to enter Ithnishmyn. He suggested methods aimed at turning away determined intruders that included incantations holding the potential of injuring those who resisted them. The issue of the missing sylvan children was a persuasive argument, not to mention other youths who were known to have willingly left, lured by the promise of wealth and success to be found in the Nations. Lastly, the disruption of sylvan religious practices, caused by curious visitors and determined evangelists, was an aggravated problem. At the end of the day, the majority of the council was repulsed at the thought of potentially harmful spells directed at their unwanted visitors. Unable to reach a decision, they agreed to reconvene and the council adjourned.
A final council was held during the festivities celebrating Imaerasta. On that holy night, the councilors ruled against any aggressive magic directed at their distant Elven cousins, however unwelcome they were. Instead, they decided to abandon their beautiful city and set out across the continent in search of a location that was distant enough to dissuade visitors and forested enough to provide a suitable home. Eislemar was selected as the leader of this quest. |
THE SYLVAN HIGH COUNCIL OF HIEROPHANTS
The origins of the sylvan high council passed out of general knowledge long ago, however some legends support the idea that it was Imaera who taught sylvans the ability to channel knowledge from one generation of councilors to the next. Since the ability does not extend throughout the general population, it is safe to assume that it was god-given rather than inherent. It is a fairly common belief that a sacred scroll still exists, bearing the names of every member of the high council from the first, down through all successive generations. Within that parchment rests a powerful magic, a force that is kindled through secret ceremonies to psychically link all whose names are on it.
During the days of Ithnishmyn and later, in Yuriqen, hierophantic talent was historically sought among sylvans of early age, from five to fifteen years being considered optimum. Youths who passed a demanding battery of tests were observed for a year before being given instruction that spanned approximately twenty years. Often, the rare individuals would lose their faculty at the onset of puberty, and would then be gently released from the demanding regimen of training. However, in the infrequent instance that a candidate's ability increased rather than diminished, and the individual's temperament and judgment were deemed suitable to the task, he then participated in a ritual of initiation.
The ritual, called Arg'Hamim, bestowed upon the initiate the right to wear the robes of an acolyte, an ivory tunic with an indigo or green mantle. Green denoted the general assembly, while the indigo signaled individuals of esteemed rank. While it was considered a great honor to rise to the rank of acolyte, few ever ascended to the high council, since only the death of one of the reigning councilors created a 'chair' for a new member. Although entry to the high council was so limited, the role of an acolyte was a full and honored one.
While acolytes generally performed governing or ceremonial functions, they were free to choose professions of other sorts while waiting for the chance to ascend to the council. Many took up teaching positions, as their comprehensive training provided them with the best education available to sylvans. Many of the greatest sylvan philosophers and historians wore the 'indigo mantle'.
Upon the lamented occasion that a high council member passed out of life, the beating of a large drum, called Rantylan (or The Summoner) alerted the sylvan population of the occurrence. The surviving councilors gathered and spent a three-day period of attending the body. During this time, ceremonies were conducted that were reputed to include a rite that suspended the departed member's knowledge within a prepared amphora. What was done with the councilor's body after that was unknown.
A high council quorum occurred immediately after the three-day mourning, and the congregation of councilors did not disband until a new council member was elected. A three-fourths majority was necessary to be elected. Once the new councilor was chosen, the high council called a general meeting open to any sylvan who chose to be present. There, the identity of the new councilor was announced, followed by a brief ceremony of welcome that included a presentation of the departed councilor's mantle to the new recruit.
The following day, a closed ceremony was conducted, suspected to include the immersion of the waiting 'soul' into its new host, bringing with it knowledge and wisdom gleaned from the years of past lives. At dusk, the Mystery was accomplished and a public ceremony followed it. Stripped of all clothing and possessions, the new councilor was escorted through the throng of sylvans gathered to witness the event, attended by two high-ranking indigo-mantled acolytes he had chosen to stand with him. Fragrant flowers and herbs were showered over the trio as they processed, carpeting the ground beneath the candidate's bare feet. Arriving at a semicircle composed of the reigning high council members, the new councilor repeated a ritualistic pledge to serve the sylvan people and was robed in the dark green tunic of the high council. Finally, a heavy mithril chain was placed around his neck, signifying his link to the sylvan people of the past, present and future. |
