Where our Queen would go, always we would follow.

  What we were so many centuries ago has little meaning now. The silver beacon we followed from one world to another has gone dark. Yet for a short time, we built, we expanded, and we were happy.   The stories handed down to us by our Keepers remind us this is not our home. Nor was the world we came from, or the one before that. We have wandering feet. We have longing souls. They say that, too, is from our Queen. She was like a god, and long before she came to our original world she had wandered many more. The names of kings and gods, the reasons for the war that led to our wandering, all have been lost to the eons. How or why our fates were bound to our queen was also lost. The bond was still undeniable and follow her, we did.   We built cities in the golden fields and the gilded forests of this world. We caught glimpses of creatures like ourselves in the shadows but they never came into the light to greet us. The ones that always follow us came along slowly, one by one; the dragon, the hunter, the priestess.   Then, one midsummer day, the world grew a bit colder, the light a bit more dim. We knew our Queen had wandered again. She never knew when it would happen, or where she would go. Yet by this time, the humans of this world had already meddled with the shadows beyond. They tampered with the natural magic of this realm. Somehow, their actions severed the thread that bound us to our Queen. Her silver light slowly faded from our minds and we could not feel where she had gone. We could not follow.   Untethered, we struggled to find a new purpose in a world without that guiding beacon. Our confusion made us easy prey for the humans of the Sorcerer Kingdoms. Our Keepers tried to unite us, but too late. Our silver thread was replaced by golden chains and there we have stayed for centuries. We were taken from our cities which were left to rot, our fields left to fallow.   Some Liir have escaped their yoke, hiding in the ruins of our once great cities. The Keepers search desperately for signs of our Queen's silver light but their numbers dwindle. Some whisper that something of our Queen was left behind. Hidden deep in the ruins of our first city may be the silver feather gifted by the Voice, that we only need find that and we can join our Queen again. Perhaps that is true, or mayhap it is only a story meant to grant a sliver of hope to the wandering souls who are now chained to this world that is not our home.  

Liir

Some stories say the Liir'ellar were spun from silver and gold. Their skin often takes a bronze or golden hue, as does their hair. Their eyes have an iridescent quality, appearing as all colors at once. They are considered the oldest ellar civilization by many humans and though they were, perhaps, the first to arrive, this is otherwise untrue.   There are few Liir cities that remain, the rest have fallen into ruin. Those that still stand are mere shadows of their former glory and ellar that live there tend to shelter in the twisting roads and chambers that stretch into the earth like roots. These Liir possess a paler that marks them from their indentured kin, like faded gold, silver gone to tarnish. They desperately search the ruins for any sign that may lead them to freedom and into the bonds of their Queen once more.