[ WP ] Legends tell of the Elder race who utilized strange `` technologies '' instead of magic . As hordes of brutal killers invade from the north , a young elf heads off to search for ancient ruins , looking for humans ...

The Elders were always venerated and spoken of with respect, at least in the annals of history. Their genius was said to have been unmatched by any other sentient race; historians even claimed that any non-scientist Elder youth held a deeper understanding of the universe than ten of our High Sages combined. Even today, every now and then elven adventurers unearth bizarre gadgets of indescribable sophistication in our elven foothills, far beyond the scope or comprehension of any elf. 
 
 Not much else was known about the Elders other than their defining brilliance. In more peaceful days, teams of earthmages and historians would venture into the Northern Wastes to discover more about the Elders, their civilization and history, and how they perished. Some even made the ludicrous claim that the Elders had no magical capabilities whatsoever; indeed, their genius was to the extent that they could shape and meld the physical and living worlds to their will through sheer inventiveness. This belief led to the myth of the Machina, devices that the Elders used to perform such feats as erecting monuments that touched the heavens or building gadgets that were impossibly indistinguishable from each other. Most believed these Machina to be giant avatars of humanoid form; others argued that this was implausible and unlikely. Indeed, in those days, many elves, both laypeople and authorities, spent considerable effort musing and debating the existence and nature of the Machina, and this led to many excursions to the Wastes. 
 
 Unfortunately, that time is now gone. 
 
 -- -- - 
 
 A mournful howling wind brought me back from the wistful memories of peaceful days gone by. I shivered as the chilling gust of wind blew past me, propelling itself southward. Snapping back to alertness, I chided myself for the brief loss of focus. *You're in the Wastes now, Avestan. One more daydream like that and it could be all be over. * 
 
 Had it been three days now since I had last slept? Perhaps four? Days were hazy so deep in the Wastes, where any glimpse of the sun was through endless layers of dust and smog. It was just as difficult to discern whether I was making any progress. The Wastes had more than earned the namesake: other than the occasional mountainous landmark, it was an endless expanse of dead forest, all covered in grayish soot. 
 
 Still, I used what meager mana I had at my disposal to cast a small lifetrace spell, which helped more as a psychological assurance than a navigational tool. The spell's supposed effectiveness puzzled me to this day; after all, lifetrace was an exceptionally minor wind-based spell used to track traces of lifeforms ( hence the name ), and yet according to earthmages who had ventured into the Wastes, the spell would uncannily lead to the remains of the Elders' civilization. Normally, the dead were not tracked at all by lifetrace, leading to further speculation regarding the mystery of the Elders' demise. `` It's almost as if the entirety of the Elders were obliterated in a single instant!'' the earthmages exclaimed. 
 
 I again started making my way through the dead forest, the spell providing a sort of `` intuition'' for what direction to follow. Using every possible means of concealment and stealth, I carefully stalked from trunk to thornbrush, praying that I would not be caught by the Fiends. I counted my blessings for the umpteenth time that my only magical capacity was for minor spells like lifetrace; after all, the Fiends homed in on higher-order magic with terrifying precision. Even large amounts of mana appeared to draw the Fiends in, so that many of our finest Sages had been the first to be shredded by the Fiends. Indeed, my stealth training as a ranger and my utter lack of magical ability were the reasons I had been chosen for this mission in the first place. 
 
 `` Venture out to the Wastes. Find any hope of survival you can from the Elders, and bring it back to us. It's the only way.'' The words of the High Sages as they bequeathed this mission still rang in my ears and drove me onward. Ever since the mysterious, lethal, metalloid Fiends had descended in hordes from the Wastes, with their incessant, unnatural clicking sounds filling the air, all we could think about was survival. At first, we attempted to fight back, of course. Spell after deadly spell was hurled into their midst as they invaded our cities, to no avail. Their metallic shells withstood the most fearsome of elven magic, while their invisible projectiles killed elven mages with pinpoint accuracy. Even storms of fire and lightning left them unfazed, only managing to drive them back briefly before they resumed their swarm-like advance. The only thing that worked was to cast protective barriers around our cities to hide any trace of our presence, which caused the Fiends to lose interest completely. At this point, all we could do was to barrel ourselves inside our walls and barriers. Everyone knew that it could n't last long. 
 
 -- -- - 
 
 These thoughts still lingered in my mind when the lifetrace spell suddenly indicated a suitable destination. Looking around, I glimpsed a near-invisible nook in a small clearing, almost imperceptible to the eye. Peering more closely, I could discern faint lines in the dust, forming a perfect rectangle in the ground. The precision of the handiwork left no doubt: this was, indeed, a mark left by the Elders. But what was its purpose? Why was it carved here? 
 
 I silently brushed aside the soot covering the markings. It became apparent that the area outlined by the rectangle was not earth, but rather some artificially smooth surface. Now on my knees, I cautiously lowered myself to examine the nook more carefully. There it was: a small impression near the center of the rectangle, again so fine as to be all-but-invisible to the naked eye. I could feel that the impression was pliable. Throwing my doubts to the wind, I braced myself as I pushed the impression inward. 
 
 The rectangle began to *moved*. Without a sound, the entire rectangular area slid smoothly open, revealing a dark stairway underneath. For a few moments, I could only stare in shock. No runes were visible anywhere, I had made sure of that; and more importantly, no mana had been emitted by the structure at all! And yet, the entrance now stood open before me, as if nothing had ever stood between me and the stairway. My mind almost felt deceived, that the rectangular structure was naught but an illusion. 
 
 Taking a moment to calm myself under the teachings of the Sages, I ventured into the abyss. While elves have rather developed vision in the dark compared to other land creatures, I had to grope my way forward in the utter darkness. There were no features to describe; just a narrow staircase leading down hundreds -- perhaps thousands -- of steps, lined by impossibly smooth walls. Come to think of it, the walls seemed to be of the same material as the moving entrance: a cold, unnatural substance. 
 
 As I reached what appeared to be firm ground at last, I was abruptly blinded by light. In unison, countless lamps came to life along the walls and ceiling, impossibly high above me. Again, not even a single wisp of magic emanated from any of these light sources. *Time to stop being surprised, Avestan. * I told myself. *You've known since you came here that this would be powered by the Elders' works. * 
 
 Gathering my senses again, I could make out a small, gate-like structure at the end of the corridor, and hurried to it. A similar impression and a similar, smooth sliding opened the way, and I found myself in an incredibly large opening, stretching as far in all directions as the eye could see. The entire area was lit up, though no sources of light could be seen. I caught myself again gasping at the marvels of the Elders. 
 
 Lining the walls of the opening were endless rows upon rows of bodies, evidently in some form of stasis. They looked uncannily similar to elves, but something was off. At that moment, in that state of shock, I could barely register this fact, let alone try to discern what was different. 
 
 Turning my attention back to the opening itself, I glimpsed movement coming from the perceived center. Heart pounding, I gasped for breath as I ran and staggered to the source. As I got closer, I saw that the movements were actually screens of blue light dancing in intricate patterns, floating above the ground in designated rows. The contents of these light screens were so definite and precise in their design that I could only think of them as symbols of some kind, though what they represented was anyone's guess, especially given how they weaved together in such complex patterns. 
 
 In fact, I was so mesmerized by the screens and the floating symbols that I did n't recognize what was sitting behind the light until I almost crashed into him. An Elder.
