In the Beginning. . .

      Ten thousand years ago, the Palace of the High Ones crashed in the area that is now known as the Frozen Mountains. The superstitious humans feared them as demons, killing all they could. Only those who fled into the woods were safe. Two High Ones who had escaped the slaughter clung to each other for safety and comfort. Over the next few hellish days they found others of their kind, some living, others dead.

      Deep in the forests around the Palace they found a glade containing three large cocoons, guarded by a bunch of preservers. The preservers were very glad to see the Firstcomers, and clung to them, babbling wildly. The Firstcomers tore the cocoons open to see what was inside. In one was Tanseeri, another High One, badly injured. In the others were humans, who ran away in fear when they saw the preservers. The elves did what they could for their injured friend, and planned what to do next. They feared that the humans would return in larger numbers so they had to move soon.

      They decided to go south, where Savek's earth sense told them were warmer climes. The way was hard. Ununsed to hunting and gathering, the High Ones were often close to starvation, and at every turn there were the primitive humans, their enemies, who wanted nothing more than to see them dead. Some died by the humans' spears, and some by other means. Still, the group survived, and grew. The High Ones discovered Recognition and began to reproduce.

      The group travelled south, more or less in a straight line, until they came to the Burning Wastes. They decided to skirt around it, afraid of its temperatures and its barren appearance. While travelling along its outskirts, a sandstorm blew up and blew away most of the preservers. The elves were distraught, and looked for them, but eventually they had to give up and continue on south.

      The High One Altoril had retained the power to "go out", and sometimes she would gather her strength and attempt to find others of their kind in this way. One of her spirit-journeys revealed to her an area that seemed to hold traces of magic. She could sense no other Firstcomers there, but could not be sure that this meant there were none. For all they knew, there could be others there, their mind-feel weakened by the magic-draining atmosphere of the planet. And so it was decided to go there and look. This proved to be a disaster, leading them into an area touched with magic that had begun to go bad, and something even worse... humans. Before they could move on from the area, this experience had altered the lives of several members of the tribe.

      Many years later, with the mountains of Land's Edge in view, Altoril "went out" yet again. It would be her last journey. All seemed to go normally, except that she seemed to be staying out much longer than usual. When they realized something was wrong all of the High Ones tried to bring her back, but none of them could reach her through sending, and none had the power to go out after her. They waited for as long as was safe for her body, but when she didn't come back within that time they decided to put her in wrapstuff. It was the only thing they could think of to do. Hopefully she would find her way back eventually. They made a sled of branches, and pulled her cocoon on it.

      Their journey ended nearly three thousand years from the time it began, at the southmost tip of Sunholt not covered by mountains. The area seemed miraculously clear of humans, and the elves settled there, building grass huts to live in as they had seen humans do. The name of that village is lost to time, but it is referred as the First Village. Life was good there, between the forest and the sea-cliffs, but the elves remained tense and wary, unable to believe that their luck would hold.

      Two of the remaining High Ones were looking out to sea one day when a bold new idea came to them. They decided to pool their weak magics and turn themselves into. . . giant fish. Their magic, however, was too weak to complete their transformations. Their lower bodies were that of fish, but their upper bodies remained elfin. When the others found out what they had done there was a great uproar in the village. All realized that this event had the potential to change all of their lives forever. Other elves followed the lead of these first two, and some discovered abilities they had not known before, most importantly, the ability to shape coral. It was decided to shape a great city in the depths of the ocean, for the entire colony to live in together. It would have sea-bound parts for the aquatic elves, and air-filled parts for the untransformed elves. There, no humans could touch them.

      The Coral Palace was this city. It was shaped by many coral-shapers, in a form similar to that of the original home of the High Ones. Some of these coral-shapers gave their all to form the Palace, and when their work was finished, their spirits fled into the coral that had become their life's focus. It was the gift of these spirits to keep the Palace strong and growing in its correct shapes, and hold the water from some areas so that the non-gilled elves can breathe. These brave elves are remembered and honored by the colony.