Part II – The Amorosi
Chapter 1 – The Arbols
Location: Arbola Forest
Timeline: Sixth Age, 44th Year
It may hearten you to learn that not every thread of this grand tapestry revolves around my inestimable self—though, if I had my way, it would, and the tale would be all the richer for it. But alas, A’H’s tiresome edicts compel me to widen the lens, so allow me to introduce you to a corner of existence I once overlooked, a quaint little subplot unfolding in Arbola Forest during the Sixth Age. At the time, I confess, my gaze was elsewhere—fixed on loftier pursuits, blind to the antics of these mortals until much later – it wasn’t until I became a slave, er, servant of A’H that I was ‘graced’ with this information. But thankfully The Great Creator has at least seen fit to let me reveal my apocrypha as I see fit to tell it.
Now, where were we? Ah, yes – The Amorosi – a people born of Alyssa’s union with the human Adam—a pairing I orchestrated with no small cunning — their tall, lithe forms and earth-toned eyes a mirror of their divine lineage. By this point in history they’d already ‘retreated’ into the great forests of TerrVerde. There they became artisans of sublime craft – they wove tapestries, spun poetry, and shaped garments coveted across the continent, yet their people cared little for wealth, for their hearts bound to nature and Alyssa’s creed of harmony.
Beneath their elegance, however, simmered mortal flaws—ambition, envy, fear, and more. Naturally, like al mortals, they had their silly little military too. A necessary evil, they called it. Their Protectorate was a group of citizen soldiers who served briefly, more for show than for actual fighting, but because of certain ‘problems’ Gwar and I caused, the Amorosi eventually created The Azoras – an elite, all-male fighting force whose warriors devoted their lives to the protect the people and their precious forests from the monsters I’d unleashed upon the planet from time to time to stir the pot.
Although the Amorosi lived in multiple forests on TerrVerde, I’m going to focus your attention on Arbola Forest — a region that sprawled across TerrVerde’s eastern rim – awilderness of towering pines, ancient oaks, and whispering yu. It was in one of the many sun-dappled glades of Arbola, where golden light pierced the canopy and a crystal stream murmured over mossy stones, that the elfess Nathily moved through her training forms, her movements a dance of grace and power.
At forty-two years, a mere child by Amorosi measure, Nathily was a specimen of remarkable beauty even by my exacting standards: golden hair cascading like liquid silk, her form both delicate and strong, with a perfection that echoed her divine lineage. Her emerald eyes, luminous in the forest’s shadow, set her apart from her kin’s earth-toned gazes, a mystery that stirred whispers among those who knew her as Rian and Fara’s adopted daughter, yet her true parentage was a secret veiled even from herself.
Despite her immaturity, very worldly events were about to take place for thia elfess – in fact, Nathily had already spent the last few months of her dwindling youth preparing for the physical and mental trials she would have to endure once she began to train as an Azora. And although it had been some time now since she had first learned that it would be her destiny to become one of these famed warriors, still her official training had yet to begin, still she had yet to be assigned a mysstro, and she had yet to even pick up a weapon.
For Nathily continued to await the decree of the Arbola Council, while that governing body continued on with their endless meetings in the Great Green Hall – trying to decide whether or not they would actually allow a female elfess, an Amora, to actually attempt to become an Azora!
And so Nathily waited and trained. Today, as she spun through another series of complicated moves, a deer paused at the glade’s edge, its gaze fixed on her, joined by a pair of sparrows perched on a low branch. Although Nathily had received this special attention from animals her whole life (unnatural yet reverent) for some reason it caused her to falter this time – she misplaced her footing during a spin and fell to the ground. Catching her breath, in a rare burst of frustration, she snapped a branch from a nearby yu, its crack echoing.
Why does the council delay? she thought, her heart heavy with Fara’s expectations as she moved towards a nearby stream and began to clean up from her fall. She caught her reflection in the water and wondered, Am I truly Alyssa’s chosen, or will I fail her vision?
Nathily remembered the day – now three moons past – when her adoptive mother Fara had led her into The Great Green Hall. The Hall stood at Arbola’s heart, its boughs carved with scenes of Alyssa’s grace, interwoven with glowing vines that cast an emerald light across a central dais – it was a sacred space where Amorosi oft gathered to spend their days and discuss events of the world. Nathily recalled walking through the hall’s arched entrance and how the crowd—artisans, scholars, protectors—parted, their earth-toned eyes fixed on Nathily, her aura stirring a mix of awe and unease. She’d heard their whispers: “Rian’s adopted daughter… something strange about her…” She knew some admired her radiance, while others shrank from it, their unease unspoken.
How could she ever forget what happened next – when Fara ascended the main dais with confidence, pulling Nathily upon the platform with her. Nathily’s adoptive father Rian – the Regent of Arbola – was standing nearby talking with his council advisors. He’d been just as surprised to see Fara and Nathily as anyone else. Yet Nathily remembered the shock and horror she saw on her father’s face at what happened next.
Her voice clear and commanding, Fara averred, “People of Arbola, Alyssa has spoken to me in a dream: Nathily is chosen to be the first female Azora, to train at the Glade of Gazza and bear the light of Terra.”
The hall fell silent, then erupted in murmurs, some awed, others skeptical, Nathily’s luminous eyes amplifying their unease. The beautiful young elfess had stood among her people serene, her divine composure unshaken, yet she’d sensed their mixed reactions, and her heart had tightened. Why do they fear me? she’d wondered, her insecurity a fleeting shadow.
She remembered how Rian had tried to calm the crowd after Fara’s Gambit. In desperation he’d raised his voice above the din, “My people, let us take some time to ponder the Goddess’s Decree. Rest assured, The Council will sort through the matter and do what’s best.”
With a grin Fara had quickly whisked Nathily out of The Hall and back home – and Nathily’s life had never been the same since.
Now, still looking at the waters of the stream, Nathily regained her composure and brushed away those memories. Standing up, she made ready to walk home – yet all the while the creatures of the forest were still watching, their silent awe with a weight she could not shake.
Meanwhile, in a cozy cabin nestled near Arbola’s city center, with its inside walls adorned with tapestries of leaf and vine, Nathily’s adoptive parents Rian and Fara stood, their voices low but taut with emotion. Sunlight filtered through leaf-patterned windows, casting dappled shadows across a table strewn with scrolls, yet the warmth of their home could not ease the strain between them. Rian, at at the kitchen table wearing his trademark brown robes cinched with a green tassel, his brown eyes clouded with worry, his pacifist heart recoiling at the path laid before their daughter. His partner Fara, her ocean-blue eyes blazing with conviction, stood resolute before him, her dark hair framing a face alight with Alyssa’s faith.
They’d been arguing about Nathily’s future for most of the day now – as they had been for months – even since Fara’s big show at The Hall.
“Fara, she’s too young,” Rian said, his voice measured yet firm, his hands clasped as if to anchor his resolve. “Nathily is our daughter, not a warrior. The Azora’s path is war, sacrifice—everything we’ve shielded her from. How can you ask this of her?”
[It may help you to know that the goddess Alyssa’s ancient decree beseeched per people to protect the goodness of the world against the perils of evil. If they did not stop my minions, then Alyssa warned that all would be lost, including their beloved forest havens. As a result, the Amorosi taught themselves the ways of warfare. Their people now had had two main fighting forces – the Protectorate (made up of males and females from throughout their society who served for a decade doing mostly community service duties) and the Azoras (a far smaller group who devoted their entire lives to learning the Art of War). The Azora warriors had been formed long ago with the goal not only to protect the goodness and beauty of all of Terra – since the maiden folks (The Amorae) were part of the beauty they sought to protect, it was also decided long ago that only Amorosi males would be Azoras. Because The Way of the Azora was a life long commitment it was a de facto loss of innocence as well – yet those who chose to walk that path did so in the belief that felt their sacrifice was worthwhile by saving the grace of their females. (While that might sound all well and good, it was a completely sexist belief if you ask me!)]
In spite of their prowess at military arts, the Amorosi people still viewed violence as a last resort. Most of their people spent their time in pursuits worthy of creating a ‘legacy life’ – enjoying the creation of art, the spinning of a sublime poem or pleasing music, and the production of finely crafted goods – their wares highly sought after throughout TerrVerde. Rian had always hoped that Nathily would choose to devote her life to one of these pursuits, yet it had become clear that Fara had other ideas.
For Rian then, these were tough times — as a pacifist by nature, it would have been hard enough for him to see his only child serve for a short term in the Amorosi Protectorate. Amorae often worked in the Protectorate serving the community, and if Nathily had wanted to, Rian could not have stopped her – for it was the right and duty of all the people to protect the realm. Yet Rian himself had never served in such capacity – for he’d been exempted by his father who’d professed a belief that a non-violent life was the path to wisdom. Rian too ascribed to this belief and therefore when he became Regent he ever tried to guide his people along the paths of peace – but for agreeing to let his army join the Allied Peoples in their fight to defend themselves against Gwar’s mobs during The Last Great War half a century ago, the citizens of Arbola had enjoyed peaceful times throughout Rian’s leadership.
The occasional war may be inevitable, Rian had oft conceded to himself, but not for my child.
[Spoken like a true elite – isn’t that always the case? Your leaders don’t lose sleep over sending the peasant’s sons and daughters off to die in war, but they’d never think of sending their own children into such dire situations].
And The Path of the Azora —with its lifelong single-mind dedication to war—was simply anathema to him. As a result, Rian had resolved to do whatever he could to stop the Azoras from getting his daughter – even if it meant arguing with his spouse.
Fara’s gaze sharpened as she looked at her mate, her tone fierce in spite of her love for Rian. “Alyssa’s vision is clear. Nathily is chosen to be the first female Azora, to bear the Glade’s trials and protect Terra’s light. Would you defy a goddess’s will because of your fears? Our child is stronger than you know—her spirit shines with a fire I’ve seen in no other.”
Rian shook his head, his voice softening. “Strength or no, my love, a lifetime of war is a tragedy. Arbola has known peace for decades, Fara. Why thrust Nathily into a life I’ve spent mine avoiding?”
“Because Alyssa demands it,” Fara countered, stepping closer, her hand brushing his. “Not for war’s sake, but to safeguard what we cherish. Nathily’s adoption was no chance—she came to us for this. I feel it, Rian, as surely as I feel our love. Will you stand against her destiny?”
Their eyes held, love and conflict entwined, the weight of Alyssa’s vision a wedge between them. Rian turned away, gazing out the window at Arbola’s serene glades, his heart torn between duty and a father’s fear.
Knowing the growing tension between her parents and caught between two such opposing forces, Nathily often sought the peace offered by conversations with her grandfather Dalligheri. His small cabin was a sanctuary of knowledge where the scent of parchment mingled with pine, its carved shelves groaning under scrolls and tomes. Soft light spilled through a single window, illuminating a clutter of artifacts. When the elfess entered, Dallegheri was gazing at a small jade figurine, yet he swiftly tucked the trinket beneath a cloth as Nathily approached and smiled at the beautiful elfess.
More than eleven centuries old, Dallegheri was the oldest known Amorosi in recorded history. A withered archive of wisdom, Nathily’s grandfather was Advisor Emeritus to the Arbola Council, the Librarian Extraordinaire of Arbola, and Lore Master General. His yellow-white hair and brittle skin mirrored the parchments he cherished – a decay I found oddly poetic, a mortal echo of my own beautiful form.
“Sit, dear Nathily,” Dallegheri said, his voice warm yet weathered, gesturing to a cushioned seat. “I’ve been expecting you. Today, let us speak of Arbola’s arbols, the heart of our kin.” He unrolled a scroll, its ink depicting ancient pines. “These trees, oak, pine, yu, are more than wood—they are Alyssa’s gift, their light a bulwark against Zebub’s darkness, unlike the corrupted giants of Chakor. They bind us to Terra, teaching us harmony.”
On and on the old scholar droned – and although it helped her forget her own problems, soon young Nathily grew weary of listening to her elder’s meandering ramblings. Dallegheri noticed her wandering gaze and allowed a rare cynical note to creep into his words as he said,. “Leaders oft forget the forest’s wisdom, chasing fleeting glory instead. But you, Nathily, you’ll carry our light, whatever path you tread.”
She smiled, touched by his faith, yet sensed his unease, her aura surely unsettling him as it did others. “Why does everyone treat me differently, nonni?”
“Is it so bad to be different?” He sighed. “Nathily, you are not a painting to be admired, nor a poem to be read. You are a living song, my child, and every song has a purpose. Do not be afraid of the notes that are different from the ones everyone else sings. Embrace them, for they are what make your song unique.”
Days later, on a rainy morning, Nathily went to train by herself again, the drops of water falling on the leaves a mournful rhythm to her thoughts. The other elves, with their elegant robes and delicate instruments, looked at her with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. Flawed mortals themselves, they saw Nathily as an aberration, a strange, wild creature who did not belong in their peaceful world. She felt their whispers, their judgment, their quiet insecurities about a world they had no knowledge of. And so Nathily felt lonely, ostracized, and eventually alone even in a crowd.
But soon enough looked inwards and when she did she stood taller, her shoulders set with fierce determination as she thought, Their judgment will not break me. I will become the first female Azora!
Seeing it unfold now as I tell the tale makes me smile – for I knew, better than anyone, that no matter what the pathetic mortals on that flat earth did, they always played their parts in MY grand scheme. They thought they had free will, that they were forging their own destinies. But in the end, it was I, Azazel, who pulled the strings.
What do you think, my friend? Do you see the tragedy yet in Nathily’s sad story? The tragedy of a young girl fighting for a destiny that was not even her own? It’s all so very… amusing, isn’t it?
Shall we continue this little tale? I have so much more to tell you.
The Apocrypha of Azazel 