High Elves: An Overview
As I sit in my grand, ornate chambers, surrounded by the finest silks and most exquisite jewels, I am reminded of the inherent superiority that lies within my being. The delicate features of my pale skin, the piercing green of my eyes, and the golden blonde of my hair all serve as testaments to the refined elegance that is the hallmark of the high elven race.
The notion that other, lesser races could ever hope to rival our glory is nothing short of laughable. Take, for instance, the goblins. Those squat, grotesque creatures are barely worthy of being called sentient, let alone being considered equals to the likes of myself. Their crude, misshapen features and stunted stature are a constant reminder of their inferiority. And as for their "civilizations"? Ha! The ramshackle huts and filthy warrens they call cities are but a pale imitation of the grand, shimmering spires that pierce the sky in our own domains.
And then, of course, there are the orcs. Brutish, snarling beasts that they are, with their tusked mouths and crude, muscular builds. They are little more than animals, driven solely by their base desires and primal instincts. Their "culture" is a shallow, simplistic thing, lacking the depth and nuance that comes so naturally to the high elven mind.
As for humans... oh, humans. So fragile, so fleeting, so ridiculously arrogant. They strut about, thinking themselves the masters of their own destiny, when in truth they are but mere pawns in the grand game of fate. Their cities are cramped, dirty things, their people crowded and noisy. And their magic? Ha! A pale, flickering candle compared to the roaring inferno of power that courses through the veins of the high elven aristocracy.
And dwarves? Please. Those stout, bearded creatures are but clever craftsmen, useful only for their ability to delver deep into the earth and uncover the secrets that lie within. They are but mere vassals, useful only insofar as they can provide for the wants and needs of their betters.
But what of our own kind, you might ask? Ah, yes. The wood elves, with their rustic, simple ways. The dark elves, with their sinister, plotting hearts. They are but pale imitations of the true glory that is the high elven race. We alone possess the true power, the true beauty, the true elegance that defines our kind.
And I, Devion, prince of the high elven kingdom, am the epitome of that elegance. My mastery of the winds is unmatched, my magic a thing of wonder and awe. My eyes are the brightest, most piercing green, my hair the most radiant, golden blonde. I am the very embodiment of the high elven ideal, and all others are but pale reflections of my glory.
But, I must confess, there is one thing that sets my heart aflutter. One thing that brings a cruel, wicked smile to my lips. And that is the raw, unbridled power of the human male. There is something about the scent of their sweat, the rough, unbridled energy that courses through their veins, that sets my senses aflame. Ah, to be serviced by one of these brutish creatures, to feel their rough hands upon my skin, to taste the salty sweetness of their lips... it is a pleasure unlike any other.
And yet, I would never admit it aloud. No, I would sooner die than confess my weaknesses to the world. For I am Devion, prince of the high elven kingdom, and I will not be brought low by the whims of my own desires.
But, in the secrecy of my own heart, I know the truth. I am a creature of contradictions, a being of both light and darkness, of elegance and brutality. And it is this complexity, this multifaceted nature, that makes me the most superior of all.