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It was a beautiful morning and I had a load of raw regeants to deliver to Clayton in Cove when I ran afoul of the snakeys. Two glistening scaled Ophid warriors charged out of the underbrush as I trotted by and Darlin wheeled about to meet them, as she has been trained. I felt the usual tenseness deep inside me at the onset of any battle but smiled grimly. Just two warriors weren't enough to even make me breathe hard. My mace whirled through the air with deadly intent and impacted on the side of one snake warriors head, sending a glittering arc of blood spraying through the morning air like liquid rubies. I parried blows from the other and finished off the first warrior with two more punishing blows. Then, I heard a sibiliant An Ex Por and suddenly my body seized up as if I as caught in a clear drop of amber, like one of those insects you sometimes find embedded in the stuff.

I absolutely HATE having spells cast on me and being paralyzed is just about the worst feeling there is in the world. You can see, hear and smell but cannot move at all. My mace was still raised, snakey ichor dropping from it and my shield was properly positioned but any warrior had a free shot at me. I sat there, my heart beating wildly as I trusted to my armor and integral health to keep me alive long enough for the paralysis to be broken. Internally, I winced as I thought, 'This is going to hurt.' The remaining warrior glared at me with fiendish eyes and then backed away. What was he doing? Was I THAT scary? What a concept, eh? Then, I heard the crunch of underbrush and a flowering hawthorne bush swayed aside as the largest snake mage I have ever seen, thrust its way into view.

Ophidians, or as we often disparagingly call them, snakeys, are similar to crocodiles and some other creatures of the wild. They don't stop growing until they die. The one facing me must have been older than the hills because he towered over my frozen body. Darlin was paralyzed just as tightly as I was but I felt her tremble inside. His musky reek washed over us and if I could have thrown up, I would have. Like many people, I have a primal fear of snakes whether they are large or small, and with this immense one next to me, its scent covering me, I felt a tiny voice deep in my mind begin to gibber in panic. The old-as-the-hills shaman gestured strangely with his fingers and everything went black.

When consciousness returned, I couldn't make any sense out of it. I wasn't paralyzed any more if my wriggling of my fingers and toes were any indication, but I was securly bound in a tough, fibrous rope. I was being carried with a nauseatingly swooping movement and then realized with cold fatalism that I was being carried by an Ophidian and we were deep under the ground. I lost track of the tunnels and chambers we slithered through, the snake shaman constantly ducking and turning. Strangely, when he was moving down a level tunnel, his movement was quite smooth and even. I felt so helpless and wondered what horrid torture I was to experience. I should have stayed in bed this morning.

We arrived in a large chamber hollowed out of the living rock and I was dropped carelessly to the hard stone floor that was smooth and level after decades of passage by these rough scaled beings. Luminous lichens crawled over the dank, seeping walls and cast a sickly green light. At one end of the chamber was an incredibly ancient snake, even larger than the one that had captured me. My heart quailed as I recognized her as a Queen. Her underscales were nearly worn to a translucent sheen and her color was dull and mottled. Her cloudy eyes opened and she peered at me as her slim, gray tongue flickered out to taste my fear. She seemed to chuckle and then sighed.

She gestured with one gnarled hand and the old mage tugged sharply at one end of my bonds. They fell free about me, spiraling down to the smooth damp floor with a faint, echoing whisper. I stretched cautiously and the queen stared at me. The clouded, reddish orbs radiated a deep sense of power but I also felt a sense of impossible fatigue.

"Yesss, I am old and I am tired, human.", she softly hissed. "I am tired to death and yet I cannot die, cannot let go while there is a chance for reconciliation. You ssee, it wassn't alwayss like thisss. Ssince you humanss came to our world, each sssuccessive generation of proud Ophidiansss have been born more savage, lesss intelligent and caring. Mosst of usss blame you humanss and perhapss that isss the truth but I have brought you here to tell you our ssstory. We no longer have the power to do anything but live a low life of continual battle but we were more at one time..."

She gestured to a low block of stone that was placed before her and I sssat, err, sat. She held me in an almost hypnotic trance as she began to speak:

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Long, long ago before you humans even thought of coming to this world, we Ophidians were a mighty, prosperous race. We spread over most of the land and lived peacefully, for the most part. We had trade agreements with most of the other inhabitants and those that were too primitive, we kept in check with fear of reprisal. Our arcane knowledge was much greater than and we could meld minds to create incredibly powerful spells. Our Druids had an intimate knowledge of the rythyms of life and they could speak to nearly any creature, either with verbal or sign language, or mentally.

I was the last born of the Queen Mother, the one that your human histories mention, and my early life was joyous and free. She had produced many generations of talented, graceful children but I was the last one born, a singular birth as well which is unusual to our people. As a privileged daughter I was watched over closely, but also allowed to explore the world about me to almost any extent. I remember long expeditions to different parts of the world when I was a snakeling, some through magic portals, and some by slither.

I saw the glowing beaches of southern Trinsic under a brilliant star strewn sky as sea serpents serenaded the the moon. I explored the lushness of the isle of Magincia and laughed as I watched gorilla families building nests in trees. Ohhh, I remember the glittering caves of Glamordamorung, abode of ancient Dragons, and the vibrant glistening wines they brewed from gemstones. Near the forests of Yew, flights of harpies formed complex patterns in the air to display their precision and mathematical balance. Nearly all the races of the world had beauty and art in some form in those days. Ogre Lords held court in their spacious tree groves at night with blazing torches illuminating scenes that really were not appropriate to my young senses. In shallow caves, Ettin jesters talked back to themselves and did slapstick that made me coil in knots of laughter. I could spend hours and days, if not weeks, relating the variance of life and wonders I saw as I grew up.

I spent much time in my Mother's court and witnessed diplomats of nearly all races come to speak with Her. Solemn orcish representatives with country manners, hulking ogres and foolish ettins. They all came to visit and pay respect to our Queen. She was so very wise and ancient with knowledge. She could find a peaceful resolution where others feared horrible battle would erupt. Occasionally, even a Dragon would come to court in the dawn dewed meadows of Justice. The Queen would listen compassionately and impartially to all and give the best advice or aid where she could.

Still, nothing is perfect and there were wars among the lesser races when their innate wisdom was insufficient to solve problems without violence but for the most part, the World was a wondrous, peaceful place. Our craftsmen created things of wonder and we gave away most of the things of beauty we made for the making of them was the pleasure, not the possession.

I grew up beautiful, in the eyes of our people. Slim, with iridescent scales that glowed with rainbow colors and the packed, tight muscles that gave me grace and balance. When I came of age, Ophidian males from all over the world came to court me. Mother held a grand ball in the wide fields north of what was to be your city of Britain and west of your mining town of Minoc. The Ophidian city of Trelliss was there, a city built among the meadows and trees as was our custom.

We never lived underground as we do now, but lived in tree cities and wide meadows. Ours was the clean air and open sky. We revered the life of trees and used living trees to form interlaced platforms of branches that would grow to form shelters. The ancient race of the Ents were one of our closest allies and they spoke to the trees, encouraging the sentient wood to support and protect us. Thus, you will find no mighty ruins of Ophidian cities because our cities were not made with dead wood or stone, they were things of life.

Mother selected the ten most prominent males from the assemblage and they strove before me with feats of strength, of intellect, and grace. They danced the alluring Lasssalomanamanass that brought heat to my young coils and then formed the circle of Choice about me. I was inordinately beautiful and graceful back then, even for one of our graceful race and I slid effortlessly into the dance. As I undulated in graceful sine patterns, I moved my arms and hands in the intricate gestures of power and desire. The powerful, strong males were entranced and swayed back and forth as I dictated, their bodies and minds totally within my control. One shone with an inner light that surpassed all the others, even if he wasn't as fluidly graceful as some and with a flick of my tail, I encircled his neck and pulled him to me. The others ruefully backed away, their eyes cast down. The one known as Tresssaran and I, traveled eagerly the short distance to our marriage bower, our coils enticingly caressing as we moved. There, with the glory of the starry sky above, the slickery soft rasp of mating raised my senses to a fiery pitch and I seemed to float amid the stars themselves....and then he rolled over and went to sleep! I nearly bit him right then but remembered my Mother's wise words about men and just sighed, knowing that he, like all males, would require extensive training.

In the months that followed, life was bliss. The sun seemed preternaturally bright, the forests seemed vibrant with life, and the streams sang to my ears. In time, a gentle curve showed in my abdomen and all who regarded me smiled with pleasure and respect at the new carrier of Life. My twins were born at the shrine of Compassion, a sign of greatness. The shrines were ancient structures that had been in our world longer than any living memory. Even the most ancient tomes could not explain their origin. But they were imbued with vibrant magical energy of different kinds. When my babies were born, they were suffused with not only my love, but the magical energy of Compassion. This promised that they would be powerful leaders among my people when they were older, for the most important quality of an Ophidian is compassion. Next to that is the innate sense of Justice, by which all races must live. Without compassion we could not feel the intricate, balanced rythyms of life on a visceral level, or understand other races. Without justice, we could not see clearly the ways of society.

My children were still infants when the first humans came into our land. My babies were writhing about joyously in the summer sunlight in a hidden glade if the forst as I bathed in the chillingly cold forst stream nearby. A hulking, stinking man adorned with bits of dirty metal and poorly tanned leather stumbled by accident into the forest glade and his eyes widened in horror at their innocent play. Although I was just yards away, the penetrating cold of the stream had slowed my normal blurring speed and I lurched ungainly onto the sward in a desperate attempt to reach them. Oh, he died instantly when my fangs decanted my deadliest poison into his veins but that would not bring my babies back to life. I stared at their bloody coils as my vision blurred with unrestrained tears.

We first tried to speak with these strange humans, but they threatened us and distrusted us. We could not understand such fear and distrust. They must have come from some awful place to harbor such anger, hatred and violence within them. Some of our proud people reacted violently and as you know, violence begets violence. Soon the initial misunderstandings spiraled into hatred and war. Orc weaponsmiths made intricate weapons for our people but we were not trained in the arts of war. Although some of our mages delved deep in dusty books of forbidden knowledge to rediscover spells of pain and death, an anquished cry echoed throughout the world as hundreds of our people died.

We finally had to retreat to dank, underground lairs to avoid the avidly bloodthirsty humans and groaned with despair as we heard their axes ripping into the living trees of the forests. The Ents went mad and all the races of the world split into suspicious, violent groups as humankind spread over our world. There was still a slim chance to regroup, to put down our pride and negotiate with these unseemly, ignorant invaders but the one that held us together was the Queen Mother and she died horribly in an epic battle with the humans.

With her loss, something went out of our race. It was as if she held the best of us within Her and with her passing, cold hatred filled our scaled breasts. I urged compassion and spent uncounted hours traveling to all the various races of the world and pleading for restraint. If only everyone would just stop and think for a minute! But, every generation since then have had less poets, less craftsman, less lovers of beauty and kindness. My people have become a savage race with the instincts of beasts.
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She shifted in place and looked sorrowfully at me. "I doubt there iss any mending to the great pattern of Compassssion. Thingss have gone too far. You humanss have built your dead csitiesss of sstone and wood. You have ssslaughtered the foressts and polluted the ssstreams that once ran with joyousss abandon o'er the plainss. You delve deep within the earth and disssturb things besst left alone. I have no hope for negotiation, no hope for peace, no hope at all. I am ssso very tired now, I have ssseen too much horror and pain. But, I wanted to passs this ssstory to you humanss. You are charged to reveal our hissstory. I know it will change nothing but it isss the lasst I can do. I go now..."

She closed her eyes with the weight of a vanquished race upon her lids and the shaman stared at me with narrowed eyes. "If I sssee you again", he hissed with disgust, "You will not be allowed to live so tell your fellow maraudersss now the ssstory she granted you." He spoke words of power and gestured a glowing portal into existence. Gesturing to it, he turned away and moved to guard his Queen. I swallowed, still reeling under the impact of her words and then bowed to her. The portal started to quiver and I quickly stepped through it to find myself on a narrow peninsula just north of Cove. Darlin was cropping the sweet grass nonchalantly and nickered in welcome. I stared out over the wide expanse of gently moving water and the reflections of the sky in the waves seemed to swirl through my mind. Blinking my eyes, I mounted Darlin heavily, feeling the clumsiness of feet instead of a sinuous, graceful body. We walked slowly down to the Cove gate and waited as the heavy, gashed timbers were shoved open with protest on their wooden hinges.