Through my studies on the war, I have learned many things, but few solid facts about the start of this war. Do not ignore this fact, I implore you, the war has not yet stopped, only slowed it’s momentum. With the illusion of peace comes the surprise of folly. Ignorance is no way to live in this world, a world filled more encompassing with those of Orc-blood than those with not.
As history well dictates, the folly of man was only one error of the tides of change we see before us. An alliance could not be formed in times of dire need. One note, however, that rings true are the names Relthrox, the Un-Prince, and Thaiodominous, the World Devourer started this war, or rather initiated it’s descent. But, I digress, I am getting ahead of myself. Let me paint a picture of a world untouched, unbefouled, and not yet ravaged by a war that lasted so much longer than any could have imagined.
It is a world one might imagine, one with a desired effect of peace, places untouched, untainted, some of which are similar to today, as some such places still exist. Druids played a major role back then, the brotherhood of Nimon was one such order. Druids were helpful for society to form, as they were balancers, peacemakers, and they were given free reign to travel where they might, including townships, and landholdings. They would on occasion treat with lords, and ladies, and on occasion, some Druids were known for befriending rulers.
There were many tribes of Druids, some friendly, some not. The Tribe of Nimon was a major sect of such tribes, and then there were the Tribe of Tumat. Tumat were a sect of Druids who worshiped in all the ways the Tribe of Nimon did not. They sacrificed the first born, branded the second, and performed weekly burnings of blasphemers, and burnt offerings of animals. While burnt offerings were acceptable in both major sects, and all Druidic tribes, the sacrifice of children, and sentience was something forbidden to the Tribe of Nimon, who believed in harvesting the land, not it’s people.
There were also two major cults of magic back during the times before the war. The greatest of which belonged to the Cult of Nirn, an order of magic wielders of many sorts who dwelt in a places of great power, they called Wellsprings of Power. Many such places included volcanoes, Pools of Nirn, which were magical portals created of, and by the magical essence that filled it’s water’s naturally, some called them gateways. The Cults of Nirn simply called them Pools of Nirn, which got their magical energies from the moonlight.
The other of the major cults was that of the Cult of Thus. This cult often sought elements of darkness, shadow, and undeath in the dark places of the world. Many had redoubts built, and the worshipers of Thus were violent, and powerful. They had power few could match, and they often dwelt in places few would venture, such as swamps, and other dark, unwelcoming places, where only the foolish enter, but do not leave.
There were also churches of various deities, but those names hold little to no meaning any longer, as much of the placement of power was passed around from denizen to denizen during that time. Deities such as the once mighty Torm, Helm, and other such deities of righteousness were defeated like Pelor, and many evil deities were unseated, and the essence of divinity passed from entity to entity while wars raged below for hundreds of years.
At the start of the war, no one knew how large scale, vast, and probing the war truly was until they were overwhelmed. Many such Human, Elven, and Dwarven communities, cultures, and cities have been lost to time itself, and made into ruin. Not only did they have to look outside for danger, but also within. Many of the conflicts that occurred during the war were those caused by Dragons taking on the forms of military leaders, kings, queens, and other such rulers, marching their people to their doom.
The Orcs at the time were not nearly as numerous as they are today, but they were very advantageous, and followed the orders of more powerful creatures, such as Blood Elves, at the time they were simply Drow, and they were lead, and ultimately deceived in the end by Dragons, and Demons. During the war, it was not unheard of for powerful entities such as Demons, such as Balor, or powerful Undead, Devil, or even evil or good divine entity to wage war with or against the Orcs.
In the end, however, it really didn’t matter what forces were arrayed against the Orcs, because they eventually won out. It’s unknown if this was from their primitive need for survival, their battlelust, or simply their desire to kill everything in their path. Much of the world now lays scarred from wounds that have left the world broken, and in the end, the numbers of Human, Dwarf, and Centaur forces have long since diminished, like the Elves, whom were betrayed in such a way, they may now be very much extinct, aside from their Half-Elven sons & daughters, the offspring, and the goodly Half-Orcs who now dwell in their place.
When it comes down to it, war is simply a means to an end. People die in war, cultures rise, and fall to war. In the beginning, the spanning Elven empire of Thyristor fell completely to ruin. Many of the Human, and Dwarven kingdoms have been lost to memory. More artifacts, and items of great power have been lost to the known world, than have been kept, found, and preserved. In the end, it is such a shame really, for even if we could explore those ruins, what might we find that wouldn’t be another implement of war?
–Grandmaster Silvis Stormcaller, servant to, and master of the Secret Fire
Chapter 1:
The Insanity of King Calius
But my King, we ever have been their allies.” said Talon Seran, one of the King’s advisers, which made King Calius pause a brief moment, tapping a finger to his lips before continuing. “My spies tell me that King Ghavrin of Southold musters forces mere miles from our boarders. He has no right.” To Calius’s right cloaked behind dark blue velvet robes, a woman’s voice speaks up in response. “He has every right, my liege. It is his hold, he has not yet invaded, we cannot stop him until after he crosses our boarders or advances any further.” The King turns to his second adviser, Lady Yissori Victus as he places his palms on his throne before sitting forward in a thinking posture. “Lady Yissori, I can do what I want within my hold, and if he declares war, I will follow suit.”
A few moments pass, and then the creek of large chair can be heard echoing softly through the chamber as a rather large, rotund man stands up. He is clean shaven, but has balding hair, and what hair the man does have is wildly unkempt. The King notices his Bishop stand, and approaching him. “Ah, and what does my Bishop have to say on the subject of King Ghavrin of Southold?” Waiting patiently for the foppish man to take his usually slow approach to the dais of King Calius’s throne. The Bishop sputters a moment, and clears his throat before speaking in his rather loud, and deep voice. “I think you, my liege are in danger. I have been having disturbing dreams of late, of dragons, famine, and well, war. Your war, my liege. Your people dying by sword, and by empty bellies, a symptom of that war. But, pay that no mind, all suffer during such things, my liege.”
The King sat back, resting his head on the soft bear fur of the backing of his throne. He had much to think about. There was talk of Orcs pillaging in the west, rumors of Dragons, and now a fellow King at his southern doorstep ready for war. He breathed deeply, a resigned sigh. “Council dismissed, Seran please convene in my war-room in one hour, we have things to further discuss.” He stood, and was about to leave with his contingent of elite guards when Lady Yissori spoke up, stopping him. “My liege, if I may, there are several pressing documents I wish for you to see at your next convenience. They are regarding things you may find interesting, but please take your leave, I will have them delivered once you have rested, and eaten, my liege.” The King nodded “Very well, Lady Yissori, have them brought to my study.”
As the King exited the chamber to his personal wing of his castle, known as the “King’s Solar” a place of beauty really. Standing some hundred feet above his city, with a hall made nearly entirely of glassteel on all sides, revealing much of the surrounding lands. On a clear day, one can see for miles from the hall, which is why he had several such glassteel structures built within the castle interior. It brought a calming sight to the otherwise wary King. As he approached the end of the long glass hallway, a pair of his most trusted, and well-trained elite guardsman, the Ebonthorn Legionaries, a small faction built solely for the purpose of the King’s protection, opened the doorway into his private abode.
Entering the abode, one might be caught off-guard by the lack of finery within this chamber. The chamber itself was built almost entirely out of stone, the King’s castle was built under a mountain range of Lorn. The city itself built in the shadow of the mountain, and the mountain height itself alone was an excellent location to build his personal spy-network’s headquarters, the Ebonthorn Citadel. The building itself on a mountain range of stone spires, unclimbable, and the citadel itself built on the highest peak overlooking his castle. The mountain range itself is too steep, and dangerous to traverse with large groups, making it very advantageous, and the citadel itself was built around a central spire, using the mountain itself as a foundation, and pillar for it’s construction, the only real way to the citadel is by the use of the Ebonthorn’s teleportation portals, which are unique in their construction, and their magic is heavily warded, and designed specifically to only be used by the highest ranking members of the Ebonthorn, and the King himself. Not even his advisers have access to the portals, which he was grateful of, so he could have fewer potential problems, and assassinations on his life.
What most, except for his personal Ebonthorn Legionaries, didn’t know, was that his personal abode was actually little used. After his wife, Queen Gaildwin had passed away during childbirth, taking with her, his only son, and heir, he had little use for this bare abode. Instead, it was removed of much of the finery, and it was made into the barracks for his Ebonthorn Legionaries, instead. Which was also a very secretive fact that very few knew, such information only privy to his advisers, and only a small handful of others.
The King’s true personal chambers were built in secret, within the mountain itself, miles within in fact. The only way inside the chamber was a magical solid black adamantine doorway, that when open created a portal to the private abode. The only key in existence held by a thick black adamantine chain tied around the king’s neck, magically enchanted to be invisible to all but it’s wearer. That was the secret of it all, only he had access to his chambers, but the chamber itself was more of a bunker with several gateway portals that only functioned when his key was used to activate them.
King Calius turned to his elite guardsman protecting him, ushering them away to the barracks, he approached the heavily bound door to his chambers. Really the door could be made of simple wood for all he cared, but Lady Yissori, the creator of the particular portal motioned against such a thing, saying that if the portal were to be destroyed, there would be few, if any ways into his personal chambers. Even if the door were to be opened, the portal wouldn’t even appear without the key locked in place, which even when removed would dissipate in less than ten seconds, so that fewer problems could occur.
Upon entering the portal to his chambers, the King wary, sat upon a small bear padded throne, an exact replica of the throne in his greeting halls. He pondered for many moments why he had become so paranoid after his wife’s death. She wasn’t murdered, poisoned, nor by any means could anyone be held responsible for her death, yet still, since her death nearly a decade ago, he had begun work on this personal chamber, and many others like it, even his vault was moved, though, even to his advisers, it was still where it had always been, in the deepest part of the castle. Now, however, even that had been moved, and made only accessible by himself.
He was getting older in years, nearly fifty, upon approaching his magical mirror, a scrying portal, he noticed himself within it’s reflection. His graying hair was growing lighter with each day it seemed, and the wrinkles on his cheeks were growing more prominent. Even his eyes were graying, losing their once commanding look, at least so he believed. However, he immediately noticed something about himself in the mirror that startled him. The man in the mirror was himself, but as he blinked looking into the mirror, his form appeared to be dead, staring back at him with a blank expression. Overwhelmed, the King turned from his mirror, thinking something terribly amiss, shaking as he peered around his chambers, which now seemed to grow darker, the magical sconces seeming to grow dimmer with each passing moment.
That is when he heard the whisper “King of secrets.” It was faint at first, but then he heard the voice slightly louder saying “King of whispers.” the voice grew louder, and in a more ominous sounding voice, not angry, but commanding “King Calius Larngarian third of his name, the King of Insanity.” King Calius grew angry “Where do the voices come from! Show yourself!” He shouted, knowing full well that none would hear him, he believed himself foolish, and alone at that moment, and something was mentally trying to communicate with him.
Returning to the throne in his abode, the King sighed, and calmly tried to commune with whatever entity was trying to speak with him through his mind. “Who are you?” He thought to himself, projecting his thoughts outward. The voice returned, only much louder, much more prominent, coming from within his mind rather than feeling surrounded by the voice. “I am like you, we share a lot of interests you, and I, King Calius. Though, I will go nameless for now, but I will not be so secretive with the information I hold. For knowledge is power, and I hope you, and I become very powerful together.” The voice spoke softly, reassuringly, almost whispering into his mind. “Let me tell you a secret, only one, however, for we have only just met, and it is a gift for a King.”
Talon Seran paced around the war-room waiting anxiously for King Calius’s arrival. His liege was late, later than normal. It had been well over two hours since the meeting at the council had ended. No word had arrived saying why his King was late, all Seran could do was wait. He couldn’t go to the abode, and demand the King’s presence, but he hoped that it wouldn’t take much longer for the King to arrive.
A few minutes later, a messenger entered the chamber through a side door, carrying a large parcel, and approaching the King’s study, a side chamber of the war-room. Seran approached the messenger, stopping him before he could enter the study. “Has there been word of the King?” The messenger started for a moment, certainly not comfortable around Talon Seran, a man in his early forties, tall, over six feet tall, and appeared more a bear than a man, grizzled, and always adorned in a dented, but functioning suit of full-plate mail, which had seen many battles. The messenger spoke with an undertone of fear, and a noticeable tremor to his voice. “No, no, sir, Duke Seran. I wasn’t told to deliver any messages about the King’s whereabouts, my apologies.” Seran paused a moment, then nodded to the study, motioning for the messenger to bring the parcel to the study, which he did quite quickly, and left the chamber almost as quickly.
Seran sat in his personal thick, ornate, and comfortable chair for some time longer before the main doors to the chamber opened, the guards outside announcing the approach of the King to Seran. Seran then stood, and walked towards the doorway where the King could be seen approaching, speaking softly with Bishop Elbern, that foppish man that Seran could barely tolerate. He growled under his breath for a moment before welcoming the King, and Bishop into the war-room. All three men approached the large ornate table stacked with notes, maps, and various other items of note.
There was something about King Calius that Seran immediately picked up on, it was in his tone, and posture. Something was different, but he didn’t currently know what that was, the man was clearly more agitated than normal. The King spoke up looking directly at Seran. “I have just heard from the Bishop that several villages have been attacked, many of it’s inhabitants are now dead. The most curious thing about what happened, is that they burned, and killed everything. They didn’t take any livestock, they didn’t clear out the larders, or take any amount of wealth so the reports say.” The Bishop immediately nodded, his prominent double chins shaking as he spoke “Yes, most curious indeed. It is not like Orcs to just burn everything, and take nothing. It’s like they were ordered, or told not to take anything of note, and only kill, and burn everything.”
Seran took the words in, and pondered a moment. “Orcs don’t usually attack villages for no reason, there must be some motivation to their actions. How many were their numbers?” The Bishop shrugged in response. “I’m not sure, maybe a hundred, probably less. It was not said to be a large force of Orcs.” Seran nodded, and turned to the King. “My liege, I would like to investigate this matter personally, if you would allow me, and a contingent of Ebonthorn...” The King placed his palms on the ornate round table, still having not taken his seat at the table. “No, I think not. I won’t sent my Duke out to investigate some random Orc attack, as strange as it may be, it was an attack. I have already issued a hundred soldiers to report to help the refugees, and see what can be reclaimed from the villages.” Seran nodded, accepting his King’s command as he asked. “You said several villages. How many villages are we talking here? Three? Four?” The Bishop immediately spoke up “Four, to be accurate. Though three were completely burned to a building, the fourth was more fortified than the other three. I believe you’ve heard of Roldorn, I believe you were stationed there on duty once before, yes?”
Seran nodded again. “Yes, I have a cousin who lives there. I hope he still lives.” The King then motioned for the other two to finally take their seats. “I have something far more pressing to discuss than Orc raiders. Please sit down.” The Bishop pulled his large, round chair out from the table, and sat at it, as Seran merely sat back down on his own that he had been standing in front of. The King then took his seat, and leaned forward keeping a similar posture, his arms on the table. “We have captured two of King Ghavrin’s spies, so this missive says.” Placing the item on the table, and sliding it to Seran, whom began reading it.
Though Seran was surprised by what he read, he held his calm posture. “This just confirms that which we already knew, my liege. They are mustering soldiers miles from our boarders. You said this was information taken from scouts? King Ghavrin’s scouts? Or is this just what you’ve been told, my liege?” He said as he eyed the Bishop unconvincingly. The Bishop immediately pushed on his elbows to a sitting position. “You can’t suggest this information be false, Duke Talon, sure you of all people know that the Ebonthorn Spy Network never gives false information, especially on matters so grave, and to one such as the King.” The King turned to the Bishop “I don’t think that is what he meant, Cornvern. I believe Duke Seran was simply speaking his council, and is not convinced that we need go to war with King Ghavrin, unless absolutely necessary, and frankly, I agree.”
The Bishop suddenly looked very flustered, and sat back in his seat, his muster spent, and his face red with aggravation. “But, my liege, this means they have passed our boarders, and have declared war with us. We must, you must retaliate.” The King smirked at the Bishop “Tell me, Bishop Elbern, did these men resist when they were captured? Did they attack any of my men before, during, or after their capture?” The Bishop’s face turned bright red, either with embarrassment or aggravation, it was difficult to tell. “Well, no, not exactly, my liege, but they were Southold scouts, that much is clear!” The King looked directly at Bishop Elbern then, squaring his shoulders. “I have read the reports. These two men were found fifteen miles east of where my scouts, whom did cross the boarder to find this information, said the army was located. These two men were armed with nothing more than hunting bows, a small quiver of arrows, and had half a dozen coney in their packs, and a single skinning knife between them. Spies, scouts, huntsmen or no, they carried with them simple huntsman leathers, and no markings at all to indicate being from Ghavrin’s armies, or even being from Southold at all, outside of their story, which I have also read in full detail. These two were nothing, but peasants who crossed over the boarder without realizing it, and are from a small settlement about an hours travel from the boarder between Westhold & Southold. I do not think there has been an invasion, do you, Duke Seran?” The King asked in an over dramatic fashion simply to insult the Bishop’s foolish theory.
Seran sat in his chair, crossed his arms, and he could barely contain himself, smirking instead before speaking. “No, my liege. I don’t believe two men dressed in huntsman leathers found fifteen miles from the main amassed force of King Ghavrin’s army are anything more than peasants trying to hunt game for their families. I will read these reports later when they have been formally given to me, which I’m sure the King knows they should have been shown to my attention sooner. Now, my liege, what did you want to discuss in private with me about?” Completely ignoring the Bishop, and turning his attention towards his King, whom immediately turned to the Bishop with a nod. “Thank you for your concern, Bishop Elbern, as always your council has been welcomed, but I wish to discuss a personal matter with Duke Seran, you are dismissed good Bishop.” With that, the Bishop immediately removed himself from the room bowing to his King as in proper etiquette before exiting.
A moment after the war-room doors were shut, the King turned a stern look towards Seran. “An invasion of peasants. Is the man daft?” At that remark, Seran couldn’t contain himself any longer, and let out a bellowing bout of laughter. “Truly, my liege, I don’t know what you see in the man’s council, he is a greedy fool grabbing for power.” The King smirked at Seran, and said. “Oh, but he does have his purposes, I assure you of that, but the man has a temper, and needs to remember his place. He won’t be punished. But onto more pressing matters. I recently received reports that there is unrest in my Kingdom. It would seem Bishop Elbern’s visions of famine are coming to fruition. Many of the crops in the kingdom are suddenly dying, the kingdom will suffer a drought if it continues. That, my Duke, is the most pressing matter of all. Starving people make for rebellious people, and importing grain, and other foods from other lands costs funds we as a Kingdom can’t afford to pay, or be indebted to another kingdom for. These lands by all reports, are dying from some unknown circumstance. I had Lady Yissori look into it when she told me on my way to the war-room before Bishop Elbern demanded my attention. It seems she left a parcel with important information for me to read. So, my Duke, let us go to my study, and learn what she has discovered, shall we?” Duke Seran merely nodded, and rose to follow his King.
Upon entering the King’s study, they noticed the parcel placed on the King’s desk. Within the container there were over a dozen pages written in Lady Yissori’s handwriting. As the King read each page, he passed it to Duke Seran to read in turn after. As they finished reading, facts seem to become more clear to them. Something was magically causing this drought to occur. It was beyond Lady Yissori’s magical prowess to discover, and she had sent word to several of her correspondents in the magical community, and several replied with the same result of failure. Apparently, however, Therrus Firebrand, the Archmage of the Cult of Nirn within Westhold is looking into the matter personally, and will be contacting King Calius when he learns anything about this strange occurrence.
Duke Seran turned to his King, and muttered darkly “It doesn’t bode well, powerful magics in our kingdom disrupting things to the point it’s causing a drought throughout the kingdom? What do we do, my liege?” The King grunted audibly before speaking. “I was hoping you might have more insight into this then what my thoughts. Could this be something King Ghavrin is doing? Could he be planning to wage war on our kingdom by drying up our crops, and killing us slowly before sacking the kingdom?” Duke Seran turned and looked directly at King Calius “I hope not, because without supplies, we can’t keep our soldiers fed, and without water, the entire kingdom is at risk of dying of dehydration. In my experience, a soldier can fight weeks without food, or very little food, but without water, any water, an entire army could be dead within the span of a month, probably most of them dead less than three weeks.” With that King Calius sat down in his chair, and began to rub his beard with his hand while staring someplace far beyond what Duke Seran could see. He bowed to his King, and took his leave a few moments later, and went to find some answers with Lady Yissori.
Lady Yissori was not actually in the castle, she left as soon as she told the messenger to deliver the parcel to the King’s study in the war-room. She left for the castle stables, and was out of the city long before the King & Duke Seran read the parcel. Her destination was the Cult of Nirn, which was some three days ride away, and she needed answers. With rumors of dragons filling her mind, and Archmage Therrus Firebrand not replying to her personal fears on the matter, she had to speak with the man directly, even if she had to leave the council, and the King unattended for a week or longer. She needed those answers, and she had many questions buzzing in her mind, which was not abnormal for her. Some even suggested that she, not King Calius was more paranoid.
Lady Yissori was put on King Calius’s council because she was exceptionally skilled at gathering knowledge. She had a crystal ball she used on occasion for scrying, but she was not always a Mage by trade. She grew up poor, and early on in life learned a lot of skills most would find to be illegal in nature, such as picking locks. She grew up a Rogue, but she left most of those skills behind when she joined the Cult of Nirn nearly a dozen years previous, but she still had her intuition, and uncanny ability to gather information faster than most, her scrying ability just improved upon those skills. Typically by allowing her to use her senses to see things in plain sight others might miss or over look. This is something King Calius desperately needed in a council member. Though, he had his Ebonthorn Spy Network, which she was not privy to that information, only given information from the King, because she was in his council, but sometimes she learned information long before the Ebonthorn’s did, and that was something King Calius could not overlook. Her absence would be noted, but King Calius would not be angry with her, for he knew how her mind worked, at least to some degree.
Lady Yissori was a master of divination within the Cult of Nirn, one of only two in Westhold, a field, in which she alone felt she was the greater of the two masters. Maybe that is because her ego or arrogance allowed her to think that, or because she might truly be better than Master Yurrel Dolace. Yurrel Dolace was an ancient man, by some accounts, he appeared much older than Archmage Therrus Firebrand, although she knew that the Archmage had a much more youthful appearance for his age, he was really nearly a hundred and fifty years old, unlike Yurrel Dolace’s eighty three years. She, was still young, only starting her forties, she still felt like she was twenty though, the spark of her life was still very much inflamed, unlike the old Yurrel Dolace who had long since retired to teaching students simple divinations at the Cult of Nirn.
As Lady Yissori felt the wind blowing through her hair, she felt a sense of freedom she had not felt since, well, for at least six years when she went on her last adventure, but this felt different somehow. This felt like a real adventure, with real danger looming ahead, somehow, her intuition told her something ahead of her was about to set a change in her life, or even the world. She had never felt magics so subtle, yet so powerful that reports everywhere in the kingdom were reporting the same fear of droughts, and this most recent Orc attack only added to her always present fears. For years, the key to Lady Yissori Victus’s survival was that fear, it’s what drew her to become more than a simple Rogue, and it is what now drives her to seek an answer to those fears. She learned long ago she couldn’t run from her fears, for to run from them, meant she was vulnerable to them, and she never wanted to feel that sense of vulnerability she did as a youth. She shuttered involuntarily at the long forgotten, embedded memories from that time period, she would never be a victim again she had vowed.
Angrily Bishop Cornvern Elbern stumbled out of the war-room. He quickened his pace as he stormed out of the room, and down the hallway some hundred feet from the war-room, before he pressed his back to the wall, leaning heavily as he caught his breath. He was a man in his late fifties, balding, his hair a mess, but he slid his hand through what was left of it, pushing it back, but only smoothing it slightly from the wild tangle it had become. Bishop Elbern was a man appointed to the position not by King Calius, but my the main branch of the Church of Pelor, the primary deity worshiped in the kingdom. But, honestly, Bishop Elbern believed he was put in his place on the council, because the elder priests of his church hated him, or at the very least found him intolerable. Which is exactly why he had asked for the position on the council.
Bishop Elbern was truly a devoted follower of Pelor, in his own way, and by that, he was a follower of Pelor when it suited him most to be one. He had a hand for politics, but he was no humble priest. Bishop Elbern fancied the feasts, and meals fit for a king that he received, and often, very often partook of since he was placed on the council. Feeling his stomach growling, Bishop Elbern thought he would go to the castle kitchens at least once, or twice before he retired to his chambers for the evening later that day. He did have one philosophy he took from the priests, early to bed, early to rise. Bishop Elbern retired to his room by nightfall, and was asleep, snoring loudly by most accounts shortly thereafter.
There was still at least three good hours before that time, however, and Bishop Elbern decided he wanted to pay a visit to a friend of his. Walking down the halls of the castle, he approached the servants quarters, and walked to one of the shut doors, and knocked three times in rapid succession before entering. Inside, he found his friend Davis Lochold, by all accounts, Davis was a short, slender man, a nearly complete opposite of the large Bishop’s frame, but Davis carried himself like a taller man. Davis took one look at Bishop Elbern, and shook his head. “What is it? What do you need now Bishop?” Clearly not in the mood for Bishop Elbern on this day.
Bishop Elbern frowned. “Ah, but Davis, you are one of my favorite fellows here in the castle. I was coming by for a pleasant conversation. Can’t a man come by to say hello to a friend once and awhile?” He said coyly. Davis grunted noticeably. “Sure, that’s if you counted anyone in the castle, or anyone at all in the world as a friend, Bishop, which I find that hard to believe you’d actually let someone be that friendly with you.” He couldn’t suppress a smile as he stood up, and took Bishop Elbern’s arm in an odd handshake, one only few knew within the castle, but many outside of it were privy to. It was a handshake only used by the members of the Bloody Clutch Hand, a noteworthy guild of assassins, thieves, and rogues, much like Davis’s self. Bishop Elbern stepped back after exchanging the handshake, however, and spoke in softer tones. “Something doesn’t feel right about all of this, Davis.” He drew from his satchel parchments containing the documents about the drought that seemed to be happening all over the kingdom by the scale, and detail of the reports.
Davis took his time reading over the documents, and put them into a scroll case, and placing it within his small writing desk by his bed. When Bishop Elbern finished delivering his information to the Bloody Clutch Hand, he decided it was time to finally raid the larder in the kitchen. However, upon entry to the kitchen, he was nearly chased out by Old Altritha, by all accounts she was probably as old as he was, but she still had a full head of long graying hair, and a face full of well-earned wrinkles that matched her usually sour expression, and demeanor. “Yeh want something to eat, huh Bishop? Well, yeh wait there outside or in your bed chamber, and it’ll be delivered to yeh, because yeh ain’t setting one toe in me kitchen again. Yeh hear me, Bishop? I’m not letting yeh raid the larders again!” She said in a tone only she could make, that made her seemed as fierce as a lion.
Bishop Elbern sputtered a response, but finally relented when he wasn’t going to get his way this time. “Fine, my lady. Have them bring a large helping of broiled ham, bread, and wine to my chamber, please.” He spoke in a more subdued tone, but Old Altritha didn’t relent. “Yeh be getting what we give yeh, and not anymore then that then yeh?” She said it as a question, but by her tone, Bishop Elbern realized there could be no debate. He simply nodded, and she slammed the double doors to the castle kitchens in front of him, making him stumble backwards ungracefully, but unperturbed, Bishop Elbern expected a full-course dinner in his room within the hour, which was something he had to look forward to, so he pranced down the halls with renewed energy, and walked into his room. Shutting it behind him when he noticed a letter on his bedside table, a letter stamped with a red seal, and the small shape of a hand at it’s center. It was a message from the Bloody Clutch Hand, and he paused a moment, looking around his room before approaching, and sitting down on his bed to read the letter, which undoubtedly would contain new orders about gathering specific types of intelligence on the goings on in the castle. Before he could finish reading the special encrypted letter, however, a knock at his door started him. “Who is it?” He asked in a shaken tone. “Dinner, Bishop Elbern.” The Bishop sighed calming his nerves, and opened the latch on the door to eat his happily expected meal, and thanked the delivery boy before shutting his door once more, and returned his attention to the note, still partially opened on his bedside table.
As King Calius sat in his study, he began to think on that voice earlier, and the secret revelation it told him. It told him that he would find great power, but also be betrayed by one close to him. Considering his closest friend was Duke Seran, he highly doubted the man would betray him. He had no real friends he held close at hand, and he even kept Duke Seran from the knowledge of his personal abode being transformed into a barracks for his elite Ebonthorn Legionaries, or of the door leading to his new abode. Not even Lady Yissori knew about the results of the door, he had asked her for it’s construction, and asked Mages of the Ebonthorn, the only people he trusted to install it, and the portals within his chamber, which function only when he uses his key to activate them.
That is when the whispers in his mind came to him once more. “Betrayal from within.” the voice said. “Betrayal from without.” the voice continued to echo in his mind. Then the voice said “Power comes at a cost, do you wish to know the cost?” King Calius was a bit unnerved by the telepathic communication, he had asked the Ebonthorn Spy Network Mages to detect scrying, and to seek out the source of possible telepathic spells, and spell-like abilities, but even after a few simple spells to detect if magic had been used in his room, there was nothing even remotely found. He decided he would go see Alexterus Locke, the master mage of his spy network. A man he should have seen earlier when the telepathic intrusions started.
As King Calius walked down the halls, guards hailed him, and he nodded to them as they went about their patrols. The King had chosen to leave his escort of Ebonthorn Legionaries at their barracks, as he believed he wouldn’t need them, it was only a short walk from the war-room, and back. As he approached the door to the glassteel chamber leading to the barracks, and the guards looked at him curiously for a moment, and one of them approached him. “My liege. Are you alright? Your nose is bleeding.” This immediately caught King Calius off-guard, and he touched his fingers to his nose feeling warm, fresh blood on his fingers. It was a slight bleed, and there was no dripping, it had made only a small trail from his nose down to his top of his mouth, almost touching his lips. He told them to move aside, that he needed to take care of something. They nodded, and opened the gates to the glassteel hall hastily.
Feeling slightly off-balance as he entered the glassteel chamber, and then light headed, he moved at a quickened pace into the barracks. He then called for a healer, and suddenly he swooned, and immediately one of his legionaries was there to catch him, and sit him on one of the fur covered chains in the rooms interior. Immediately, one of the Ebonthorn’s Legionaries Clerics came rushing into the chamber from one of the other rooms, and began examining King Calius. Suddenly the telepathic communication came back. “King of Secrets.” the voice said softly, faintly, and then the communication came back louder. “King of Whispers.” King Calius began to shout calling for someone to get Alexterus Locke. “King Calius Larngarian third of his name, the King of Insanity.” the voice finally said, speaking in an ominous tone, which even King Calius was beginning to feel like he might go insane from the insistent telepathic voice communicating with him. King Calius then fainted where he sat, even the Ebonthorn Cleric didn’t understand why, nor did Alexterus Locke when he arrived from a nearby Ebonthorn Portal a few minutes later. King Calius had simply collapsed, the blood from his nose had only been minor, and regardless of what healing, dwemors, and other such spells were cast on him, they could not understand what had happened.
After several hours, King Calius awoke in a daze within his personal abode with the same Ebonthorn Cleric, and Alexterus Locke sitting in chairs nearby. Immediately Alexterus Locke stood up at the sight of King Calius regaining consciousness. “My liege, I apologize for taking you to your abode, and entering it without your permission, but I felt you needed to rest properly, and in a secretive place.” King Calius reached up and touched his nose, no longer feeling blood. “It’s quite alright. Locke, I need to ask you something. During the time I was unconscious, did anything happen? Could you detect any scrying, or telepathic intrusions into the room?” Alexterus Locke looked at King Calius perplexed. “No, my liege, of course not. This room is specifically warded against such intrusions to begin with. Why, what happened?” He asked very concerned. “Locke, I heard a voice saying – King of Secrets. King of Whispers. King Calius Larngarian third of his name, the King of Insanity. This was not the first time today I’ve heard it either. I had wanted to contact you earlier, which I now believe I should have, what does it mean?” Alexterus Locke stared at his King, and paused a moment before answering. “Honestly, I have no idea. There must be a reason for it. How long has it been happening, my liege?” King Calius sighed, and the nodded in reluctant acceptance of the situation. “Only a few hours. No longer. It’s strange, the voice changes tones, and pitch. At first it was a whisper, then it grew louder, and then it grew ominous, almost like a demon whispering in my ear.” Alexterus Locke looked shocked. “Would it be alright if I put you under a hypnosis spell, and try to look deeper into your subconscious, and see if I can sense anything? I know it would be a violation, but I think it may help.” King Calius looked sternly at Locke before answering. “Do what you need to do. I do not like the idea of hearing voices, and none of this leaves the room. Is that understood?” He said looking from Locke to the Ebonthorn Cleric he knew to be trustworthy, and both nodded fiercely in response.
Chapter 2:
Chaos & Confusion
It was well documented, the events of King Calius the Insane. His insanity developed quite quickly so they said. No one truly understands how or what drove the man into insanity. It could have been isolation, paranoia, stress, all good factors, but little has been saved of that era before the great 400 year war. The only documents have been kept in secret, and they are incomplete, fragmented.
During a time of internal flux, external chaos begins to occur. Sometimes even insanity is the only solution to insanity. During those days, things were, however, rather peaceful in comparison to some of the battles we face today, well, that was until the start of the great 400 year war. When that happened, everything changed, battle after battle, not even the gods stood idly by during the war. Deities died,divine power was passed around throughout the war for hundreds of years. The more clever deities unseated the weakened ones in their garner for power. In the end, it was simply war, but one on a larger scale than thought humanly possible. It reshaped the world as we know it, and it placed the Orcs in a seat of power that seems all, but absolute.
The past is often the key to the future, or so it it said. Looking at the past during that war we see only destruction, and chaos. But leading up to that point, if it were possible, as many of the Secret Fire have been trying to do for many years, we want to discover what lead to that turning point. How come Thaiodominous, the World Devourer suddenly appeared. How did a dragon of such epic, and god-like, beyond god-like proportions just appear? What kind of Dragon was Thaiodominous, reports say it was a Dragon like no other, it’s breath weapon disintegrated, much like the spell, and it’s scales reflected light, and it was darker than shadow, it had no true form, only that it was the essence of nightmarish evil in true form.
What happened to Relthrox, the Un-Prince? Reports from that era say he, it, played a major role in the events that lead to the 400 year war, but there is nothing in the history books, not even Secret Fire records beyond the fact that Relthrox is an Un-Prince. One of six, supposedly. Where that information came from is unknown even to the Secret Fire, but what is known is that an Un-Prince is one of Orcus’s personal generals. How it got to the prime material plane is still a mystery. Is Relthrox still alive? The only noteworthy report of Relthrox says he was as tall as a house, some twenty feet tall, shrouded by a robe, and demonic red glowing eyes, and bony claws & pincers, pincers like that of a Glabrezu demon. Supposedly these beings were so powerful that Orcus could only create or keep six under his control.
I wish I knew what these entities were, but reports don’t even tell how, or if they were ever truly defeated. Though there is a tome that says Thaiodominous was slain by heroes in a final confrontation that ended the war, but why are Orcs still amassed? Why is the world in the state it is in now? Too many questions, far too few answers. Deities don’t walk the prime material plane any longer, that much is true, but how did that stop, and how did the war end, and why then are Orcs still rampaging through our lands even to this day?
–Grandmaster Silvis Stormcaller, servant to, and master of the Secret Fire
As Lady Yissori rode hard for the Cult of Nirn, she watched the sun set. In the sky the moon was rising slowly, and by nightfall she saw it more fully. The moon had a dark, blood red color. She had heard of blood moons before, and they were said to be a natural occurrence, but something about this one make her heart race. She slowed her horse, willing it, like hear heart to slow. She needed to rest, it was getting late in the evening, and she needed to stop, luckily a small hamlet lay not far from her. Hillsdwell is what they called it, simple folk make up simple names she surmised.
As she entered into the circle of shacks, and small houses, there was a distinct air of filth, and rot. As she walked further into the cluster of ramshackle buildings, she immediately picked up on the source of the scent. The well, and as she approached she noticed the water was a putrid green color. Maggots could be seen splashing in it’s depths, or some other such disturbing creature. That is when she was started by a noise, she didn’t hear the approach. “The well has been like that for three days.” The elderly woman spoke in subdued tones. “The crops all wilted, too. It’s terrible! Simply terrible. We did have a trough filled with nice fat pigs, too. Those died yesterday.” Yissori turned to take in the elderly woman, she was haggard, she looked as if she hadn’t slept or had eaten well in days.
The elderly woman escorted Yissori to the common house, there were several empty beds, which in better days were often occupied by travelers. Instead she saw the majority of them filled, and a large portion of the room was turned into a sickroom. The elderly woman said “When the pigs died, they thought to eat of their meat, they have been sick ever since.” Yissori approached one of the sick men laying on the soiled bedding. He was clearly ill, but there was something else. She quickly cast a dweomer to detect magic. There was something about this sickness that was unnatural. A moment later a woman approached her, wearing robes with an embroidered symbol of Pelor sewn into it’s chest.
The woman suddenly looked at Yissori with a spark of memory. “You’re Lady Yissori Victus, are you not?” She brushed her robes with her hands to appear more presentable. “I’m Linde Folly. I arrived only two days previous, my original destination was Burgandry, some tendays away to the North East, which I am sure you well know.” Yissori nodded. “Yes, I was born there.” She smiled. “So you’re a priestess of Pelor, Linde? What ails these poor folk?” Linde sighed, and looked away in shame. “I know not. I cast many spells, detecting poison, disease, I even attempting curing Henry over there, but I felt like something was clinging to me, like hundreds of crawling insects trying to climber all over me. It was sickening.” She spoke in hushed tones then “I am afraid I don’t know what else I can do for these good folk.” She sounded miserable.
Yissori could see the priestess was at a loss. So she decided to assist where she could, but she wanted to cast a spell on each of them over the next few days to analyze the dweomer of the element, and power of the magic afflicting the villagers. As she cast her first spell, after several hours of deep concentration, her eyes suddenly shot open. “Was there a stranger here recently? A man? Did anyone pass through here recently?” She turned towards the elderly woman. “Oh, I am sorry, dear. Until recently, I almost never left my home, now I’m nurse maid to all my sick friends, and family.” A moment later there was a cough coming from one of the sick men a short distance away. He was speaking so softly they couldn’t hear him. Yissori, and Linde immediately went to him.
The man coughed something foul. He was a man in his early thirties, but sounded like one of Master Yurrel Dolace’s hacking fits. “Y...you said something about a man?” He asked in barely a whisper. Yissori nodded, but noticed the man’s eyes were glazed over, and he was not looking at anything at that moment. “Yes, I saw a man, he wore a fine black, and silver embroidered tunic. He had a long dirty traveling cloak, and a cowl covered most of his facial features, but he carried with him a long gnarled oak walking stick that looked sickly, and moldered over in many places.” The man went into another fit of coughs. “Y...yes... He came by the village a month ago. He said he was a powerful Mage, and wanted to bless the village. He said he was from a place called Thus.” Yissori’s face went pale at that moment, and Linde immediately caught on. They both said in unison “A Warlock.”
Warlocks were rare, extremely powerful, and dangerous. Some had been known to grow sickly, befouled by their own magicks, but they didn’t die, no they grew more powerful. Yissori had read about one such Warlock, Berloft the Befouled. The man, creature, whatever he had become had been responsible for a plague that nearly wiped out all of Lorrel over a hundred years ago. Therrus Firebrand would know more, and she was already going to seek his council, now she had to make with all haste to see him. Linde turned towards Yissori as she stood suddenly. “You’re going to seek the Archmage of Nirn, are you not? Please, take this with you. Do not open, I fear it’s contents cursed.” She handed the parcel to Yissori as the woman left the common house, and onto her horse as she raced out of the hamlet towards her destination. Without even casting a simple dweomer like detect magic, Yissori could sense the taint coming from the parcel, something foul hid within it’s folds.
Returning to his meal, Bishop Elbern nearly made a mess of things, nearly soiling the missive from the Bloody Clutch Hand. But, with a delicate grace only a man placing something precious to him, he gently set the plate of food down on his small eating table, and picked up the document once more. It read as follows “Elbern, you have done well these past months, but lately your information has been lacking. The hand wishes for you to get something important. Inside the King’s study lies a set of documents we wish for you to acquire. Please, go and obtain these documents, and bring them to Davis immediately. Time is of the essence. Something has been troubling Guild Master Delrick Gregory.” He knew the guild master based on the symbol presented in the encrypted document, for the symbol literally meant his name. Nodding to himself. “The documents can wait, dinner first.” As he began to quickly eat from the platter of heated ham, buttered bread, and from the chalice of wine he had been given. Food had always come first with Bishop Elbern, even over the Bloody Clutch Hand, no matter how much haste was needed in doing something. He needed motivation, as he made himself believe.
He cleaned himself off after his scrumptious meal with a face cloth soaked in water dabbing the sweat that had formed on his brow after the meal as well. He turned to the letter, almost dreading, almost giddy with excitement at what it might say. He opened the letter, and was confused by it’s contents, and read it twice, as the dialogue was quite short. It almost read like a turn down notice for a youth trying to join the king’s Army. “We regret to inform you, it has come to our attention that you are no longer required in your position, or your services, and your status as agent in the Bloody Clutch Hand is terminated.” He didn’t like those words, any of them. He had lived a very high class lifestyle most of his life, and he had joined this guild of assassins not for money, but for power! He needed to become King! Then, casting his thoughts away in an instant, a knock came rapping at his door. Knowing full well this might be the only other member of the Bloody Clutch Hand, David Lochold, he stood up, grabbed a silver candelabra from his bedside table, and approached his door.
Pausing for a moment before taking the last steps to the threshold, the rapping on the door continued, this time only lighter. “Yes, who is it at this late an hour? I was about to turn in for bed.” Then a familiar voice announced himself with a strong, unmistakable voice of Talon Seran, one of his rivals at court, but not a threat to his life. “Oh, my, my, one moment good sir.” He played it off as if he was apologetic, but even Talon knew that this man, Bishop Cornvern Elbern was just using pleasantries for show, rather than sincerity. It had sickened Talon every time he heard it, and when the door finally opened, Talon had to force himself to hold his arms down at his side, or he feared he might strike the man.
The Bishop noticing something was amiss made his usual fuss, standing there in the entryway to his room wearing only a slightly too tight pair of pajamas, with a cap with a puffball hanging down one side. “Yes?” The Bishop asked. Talon sighed again, not for the first time, and not for the last time tonight to be sure. “There’s been a murder, good Bishop. A house servant, David Lochold, and a maid Berry Garrick. Several bystanders nearby to where there bodies were found said you were the last person to speak to David Lochold. The man, and miss Berry, were each stabbed by a long narrow blade in their hearts, and their hands, bloody, were found in a death grip holding, clutching really the blades in their chest. You know what calling card that is just as much as I!” He let his emotions get the better of him, and sighed once more before continuing. “Now, good Bishop, I think we should take a short walk, a brisk walk outside for a few moments before you return to your room, and to slumber. I think it would be in your best interest to talk to me.” The Bishop looked at Talon with a look of uncertainty, and was slightly disgusted by the idea of a walk, especially one so late the hour. “Very well.” He grunted a response out against his better judgment, knowing that his life may be forfeit within a tenday, probably less.
“King of Secrets. King of Whispers.” King Calius woke up in a blank daze. He barely remembered his name, let alone where he was. He found himself in a dark, unlit room. At first, he found himself frightened, but then, he felt a soothing presence nearby. But not one he remembered at all to be soothing. He sat up, and walked to the only thing in the chamber he could actually see. His reflection in his silvered mirror. Or so he had thought it was his reflection. He looked into a dimly lit furnished room, his room. His private quarters, but where was he if not his own chambers, and why was there a mirror here in this room looking into the other room. That is when he remembered his vision, or was it reality, seeing the thing he saw in that mirror with his own eyes. It looked like him, but it couldn’t have been, he was living, he was not the thing he saw in the mirror. How could he be? “You do not yet understand, you are my catalyst, my awakening into this world once more.” the voice spoke to him.
Calius looking around saw nothing, felt... nothing, at least nothing, but a faint chill coming from everywhere, yet no where in particular. Calius shouted “Spirit, creature, whatever you are, what are you? What do you want from me? I have a people, a kingdom to lead. Why take me away from what is good, and just in this world?” the voice responded “You speak of things as if a child speaking words he knows not. Do not speak to me of good, or just. For I know you, Calius, I heard your whimpering thoughts, and they awoke me. Now you will be my catalyst into this world.” Calius cried out “What are you! What do you mean by catalyst?” He demanded, but his voice didn’t echo, it didn’t even travel beyond his lips it seemed. He was mouthing the words, but thinking them. “Now you understand? I am not, and you are not of the physical plane any longer. Oh, you’re not dead, but your body may give out eventually. We’re in a dream world, ’good, and just’ King Calius. We’re in your mind!” The words reverberated around the room as if in echo, but the voice became different each time, until finally all he heard was “King of Secrets. King of Whispers. King Calius Larngarian third of his name, the King of Insanity.” They whispers all at once grew deafeningly loud, yet softer than a whisper all at once, and then stopped.
Awaking, bolting upright, and startling several in the room, including Alexterus Locke, a pair of guardsmen, and a female guard Calius had remembered seeing at some point earlier sometime within his blur of prospective. He coughed a deep, sickly cough. “What happened, why.” He paused, looking around. “Alexterus, tell me something good, please, you are my best man, and are leader of my spy network!” Alexterus softly spoke “What do you mean? You’ve only been asleep nearly a half an hour, and were beginning to sleep soundly until about five minutes ago, and you began to convulse, or shake, we’re not sure what happened, or is happening. Sire, are you alright?” King Calius looked at Alexterus “Of course not! I feel the whispers are becoming more frequent, and I’m beginning to think I’m losing my grasp on reality!” He shouted. Most everyone in the room took a step back, and Alexterus looked sternly at his king. “Sire, I think you’re exhausted. You are physically unwell.” Then he heard them, the voices. Each of them speaking as one, looking at him. “King of Secrets. King of Whispers.” Everyone in the room began chanting, but they were not speaking the words, he heard them in his mind, then he heard more voices speaking the words from outside his room, and almost all at once he heard all the world saying “King of Secrets. King of Whispers.” He closed his eyes, shook his head, oh how hard he tried to die out those words, dilute them somehow, but then he realized he could not. With a smile, a half crooked smile the chanting didn’t seem to bother him any longer. With vigor, he moved to leave his bed saying. “Alexterus, thank you for looking out for me, but I am fine now, thank you.” Alexterus, like the others within the chambers stared, almost supernaturally transfixed on their king as he adorned his pants, his shirt, and threw his coat over his shoulders, and before leaving his room, he picked up his cane twirling it around in his hands, almost too energetic.
When he left through his portal, almost like coming out of a daze Alexterus, and the others shook themselves free of whatever enchantment made them so enthralled by their king. And with that, as soon as King Calius was outside his private rooms, he locked the doors to his personal chambers, in effect sealing all those within, until the key was used to open the doors once more. King Calius also knew that the portals inside his personal room went one way, they went in, but not out, his key was needed to allow exit from his chambers as well, even through the portals. They were locked up tight, and in the middle of a mountain no less, and Calius thought to himself “How fitting. King of Secrets. My secret, betrayal shall go unnoticed from all the eyes, but my own.” And whistling through his personal guard chambers, he left the royal chambers, and went to his personal vault, the one he had created in secret, and sealed deep within the mountain, the place he knew where he would find the thing that has been speaking to him, well, at least that’s what the whispers told him.
Yissori raced through the dawn, traveling down the only road she knew that would lead her to the Archmage of the Cult of Nirn. As she traveled, the morning air felt refreshing, and she kept the horse’s pace for as long as it could manage, making her hair flow through the breeze. It was nice to feel freedom again, but something tugged at the back of her mind. This freedom she felt, she innately knew it wouldn’t last, and would never be again as it was right now. The orb she carried even began to pulse at that thought, and that turned her thoughts dark, and began troubling her, so she rode the horse hard all day, and into the early hours of the evening. The horse lathered in sweat looked like it was on the verge of collapse when the Cult of Nirn came into view before her shortly after nightfall. She could remember the shape, and lightning of her home for many years as if she had never left the place. This was her home, or one of them at least.
She slowed the horse to a slow canter, easing the horse before they arrived at the stables, hoping her horse didn’t die from exhaustion, she soothed the animal the best she could. As she entered the stabling, she called out “Oi! Stablehand, horse in need of stabling!” Her call was returned almost immediately with “Yes, my lady, one moment, coming.” A young lad, no more than 12 or 13 winters, but a well fed lad came around the corner. “Sorry, my lady, I was eating dinner. Let me stable this fine horse. Looks like you rode her all day. She needs water, and rest.” She looked hard at the lad. “I intend to keep this one alive, she was a gift from King Calius. Her name is
Spera, and she must be saddled, fed, and ready for a long ride when I finish by business with Archmage Therrus.” The stablehand started. “Oi, you must be Lady Yissori Victus! You must be!” He said with excitement. She smiled at the lad, gave him a nod, and ruffled his hair a bit, and said “Take good care of Spera for me.” As she walked into the large stone temple of Nirn.
As she entered this place, the Cult of Nirn, she felt strangely at ease, even though this place would frighten a commoner. Lights danced around every chamber, spirits of fey, and spirits of all sorts filled this chamber. It was strangely natural, and serene to Yissori. The old stone tables, and benches were also a reminder of the lack of finery the Cult had in comparison to the plush, and finery of the King’s Court. But, she didn’t mind this rustic, and primitive lifestyle. She even enjoyed the thought of sleeping on a fur covered slab of stone like she did growing up. She noticed a figure moving in the large chamber heading towards the underground chambers, which made up much of the temple, and approached the elderly man.
She knew immediately who this man was, and wrinkled her nose for only a moment before speaking, startling the man. “Master Yurrel Dolace! Oh, you haven’t aged a day since I left!” Her words made the man stiffen, and he slowly paused, and turned, adjusting his cane as he did so, as to get a look at the speaker. “Yissori? Is that you? Oh, it is you! Oh, child, I have missed you!” The affection confused her. This man had been more rival than friend, but he had also been her teacher for a decade, maybe had felt some fatherly attachment towards her in his old age. She decided that some comfort from this man wouldn’t be so bad. She closed the distance standing a few feet from him, and it began to grow awkward when neither spoke. Yurrel Dolace had never been an affectionate man, in fact, quite the opposite in her time knowing him. He began to shift uncomfortably changing hands on his cane. “Well, it’s good to see you’re well, and in good health, my dear.” He went to shuffle towards the stairs, and she stopped him, startling him, giving him the first affectionate, loving fatherly embrace she had ever given anyone. “Oh, my!” He said with a start. He didn’t reject the affection, or say anything, except to turn, shifting his weight on the cane, and wrapped an arm around her. “It’s fine to see you have grown up, my dear.” The words caught her off guard, as he said my dear more than a few times. Did this man truly have a father’s affection for her? She didn’t dwell on those thoughts as she walked with Yurrel Dolace, a man she once believed her rival, now strangely, a fatherly figure. She grew a little concerned with this new attachment, she suddenly found herself not wanting to lose someone for the first time in her life.
As Talon patted Bishop Cornvern on the shoulder walking out of his bed chambers, they walked down the hallway where only three other nobles lived on this wing of the castle. Talon sighed once more. “Bishop, I don’t think you had anything to do with the deaths of the servant boy David, and especially not Berry the maid. You are a lot of things, but you’re not a killer.” He removed his hand from the Bishops shoulder then, and stopped walking, and Bishop Cornvern noticed the pause in their walk, and shifted his abundant weight to comfortably lean against the wall, and looked at Talon Seran, the greatest warrior King Calius had in his armies, or he knew of. “You looked troubled, sir.” He spoke, acknowledging the mans title as he had been knighted by King Calius more than a decade ago. “What troubles you, Sir Talon?” He wasn’t really all that interested, but he should at least pay the part of a Bishop. Talon lifted his eyes to look at Bishop Cornvern then, and the blank expression for a moment turned into a look of anger, but only for a moment. “Don’t pretend to care of my well-being, Bishop. But you should know, King Calius has been acting strangely. He took ill several hours ago, and has been locked up tight in his personal chambers. I was turned away twice.” Bishop Cornvern was a little nervous, and more than a little shocked at hearing this news. Had the Bloody Clutch Hand poisoned the king? He motioned for Talon to keep walking with him before continuing the conversation. “The King, could he have been poisoned, do you think?” With a true look, and expression of genuine concern, which Talon immediately picked up on. “No, they don’t think it’s poison, they think it’s something else though.”
As they walked, Bishop Cornvern kept silent as Talon explained to him the dreams King Calius had been having, the fits, and the words he kept muttering in his sleep, and what he had heard. “King of Secrets. King of Whispers. King Calius Larngarian third of his name, the King of Insanity.” Talon spoke the words aloud, they sounded disturbing, sickening in his ears. He had known King Calius for decades, and never, even after the passing of his wife had he shown anything, but a strong will to live, and lead his kingdom. The people of his kingdom were as children to him. Bishop Cornvern turned to face Talon directly. “Oh, my, that doesn’t sound very nice. I wonder where that originated do you think?” Talon was uncomfortable telling the Bishop everything, but something across the way caught his attention. “Bishop, it’s King Calius!” He almost shouted, but pulled the Bishop down into a crouch with him as they noticed that King Calius was laughing, and hopping slowly towards the ancestral crypt of his family, directly towards it. “Shh, good Bishop. This doesn’t seem normal to you does it?” Bishop Cornvern feeling a little dizzy from being pulled in such a manner didn’t notice King Calius immediately, but the way the man laughed, and hopped about portrayed dementia, a form of insanity. “Maybe you’re right, Sir Talon. We should follow him?” He asked more than stated. Talon pulled the Bishop up, and patted his shoulder, and dusting the man off before briskly walking after King Calius, who had now disappeared into the crypt.
As they approached, they saw the door to the crypt ajar. Looking into the chamber, they didn’t see anything in the stillness of the darkness below, and Talon walked into the crypt first, the Bishop pacing slowly outside, debating on entering this place of burials. As Talon walked into the crypt, and down the steps, the old braziers placed at the bottom of the stairs, which were placed throughout the crypt to offer lighting when interning the bodies of King Calius’s bloodline into this family crypt. The old braziers flared to life startling Talon, as an entire line of braziers lit further along inside the crypt revealing King Calius standing some fifty feet down the long hall of the dead. King Calius was staring directly at Talon, as he mouthed something, too far for Talon to hear, but then a red, blood colored mist floated from out, and under King Calius’s royal robes, flowing outwards, and simply disappearing a few feet from him. And that is when Talon noticed the nearest alcove begin to shift in the darkness with movement of something unnatural, unholy even. The dead was rising!
Talon stepped back out of the crypt at that moment, drawing his battleaxe, which he now clutched in both hands, the Bishop seeing this started, and staggered backwards nearly falling over himself. “Good Bishop! Go call for the guards to the crypt immediately! Now! Go.” He spoke the words through gritted teeth frantically. The Bishop stuttered a few words, noticed the shifting movement in the dim light of the crypt, and fell over himself in a mad run towards the castle some distance away. Talon, however, held his battleaxe determined, and kicked the doors to the crypt open all the wider, and rushed in swinging his axe with reckless abandon.
As soon as he entered the crypt, he knew he would be overwhelmed. He had faced armies, and masses of men, but never alone. These skeletons were shambling towards him, but in great numbers, but with the determination he had earned through years on the battlefield, and in the King’s Court, he rushed at the nearest abomination, and struck it down, swinging once, then again, but didn’t realized how close another had been to him, and a clawed hand reached out, and tore part of his leather tunic, and leaving a trail of blood behind it. Grimacing, but hardly defeated, Talon struck at this new enemy with the same ferocity he had dispatched the previous. In a blur of what felt like hours, Talon swinging, and chopping with his axe, chopping down the dead began to feel overwhelmed, and his breathing heavy. He was not a young man any longer, and no man could hope to defeat such numbers, living or dead.
King Calius, if it even was King Calius anymore giddily hopped down the halls of his forebears laughing in glee. He left an army of the dead in his wake, weather he knew it or not, that didn’t matter, all that mattered to King Calius at that moment was the vault. Yes, the vault! He knew it was where he needed to go. The place where the whispers were telling him to go. It was where he had moved his treasury. Who would search in a family crypt for a treasure vault? Even if they found it, they would need his key to even open the vault, and then, what then he wondered? Nothing. He wasn’t sure, but he knew that is where he was going, where he had to go. Something was driving him, and a part of him, probably the last part of him that was really him didn’t know why or how he was doing these things, but with a smirk, the form of King Calius snuffed out that thought with a wicked bout of laughter, it was too dark to have been human.
The doors to the crypt were in sight, and he opened them, leaving the key in the door as they swung open, almost of their own accord. Within this room lay a secret, one even King Calius had not known about. There was a small door that lead deep into the mountain. This door was cleverly concealed with a layer of rock covering it, but the key, now that was another story. A relic passed down from generations resided in this vault. A piece of a great dread tooth, that was said to be from a dragon vanquished, sealed, and entombed within the very mountains of Lorn. He knew it was in there, waiting for him. He walked with purpose, he saw the long, narrow dragon tooth covered with runes, but oddly shaped at the tip. The runes he read were in the language of Draconic they read “Death. The Destroyer. Doom.” and various other phrases in Draconic that meant similar foreboding words no one in the kingdom actually knew how to read, and the ones that did, didn’t even know the tooth-key existed. He pulled the tooth-key from it’s pedestal, and walked towards the place where he knew to be the secret, subtly hidden rock door leading deeper into the mountain, and standing at the rock door, he slammed the key down into the lock with a loud reverberation that seemed to echo all around him, through the crypt, through the mountain, possibly even through the world.
The door opened, and the chamber, narrow, but clean of the typical obstructions in such tunnels such as cobwebs, and debris from the carving of the tunnel. This tunnel was warded against such things. It was meant to strike fear, and ward off anyone trying to open the door, and enter it’s depths. For those who made the ancient enchantment knew what dwells deep within the mountain. Walking seemingly unaffected by this warding enchantment, Calius began hopping down the slightly downward slanting tunnel, and it went down for what felt like an eternity, before entering a massive, darkened chamber of monumental size. A chamber large enough to house an entity of monumental size perhaps? As Calius entered the chamber, wisps of lights began to flicker throughout the room. Remnant magic still remaining in the chamber giving off an eery glow of greenish, putrid light. Anyone seeing this would probably turn, running away never to return, but not Calius, he had a destiny to fulfill, and he would not, could not tarnish his legacy as being called the King of Insanity by not actually living up to that name. He hopped down the crudely, yet hastily carved stone stairs leading into the center of the chamber.
At the chamber’s center, in a massive crater a single monumental skull lay. It had noticeable horns, and the shape of a dragon, but this skull was so massive it dwarfed even the largest known Dragons. When his great grandfather had found the skull, not actually fought the Dragon that made it, he sensed a dormant energy within the creature, and he sealed it away behind seemingly impenetrable defenses. Only one of his bloodline would be able to find it, in theory, and only one of his bloodline even knew about the relic key, now lodged in the stone door miles behind him. He was the first in nearly two hundred years to see this place, and as he approached the skull, he too felt it’s dormant, wanting, demanding energy within the skull.
As if by instinct he began chanting in a foreign, yet familiar tongue. Staring at the dragons massive eye sockets, which now seemed to glow a brilliant red glow, a fire within them burning, as if rekindled, but now roaring. He heard the noises of those fools entering the chamber where he came in, but what could they do to stop him now? He was almost complete, almost reborn, and soon King Calius would be destroyed giving his life for I, Thaiodominous, the World Devourer. It would be my turn to twist the fates. My turn to turn the world to my will, my turn to destroy, pillage, ruin, and feast. And I will not suffer those who oppose me.
The room was unstable, like the halls as Talon, and a small squad of Ebonthorn Legionaries marched down the halls, and entered this magic-filled chamber. Seeing his Liege in a crater in it’s depths, he told the Legionaries to fan out, and scout the room as he made for the crude stone stairs leading to the crater. As he neared the steps, he noticed the eyes, piercing, blood red, and foul. He noticed his friend, and King chanting and being raised, blood red energy seeping from him and into the eyes of this, whatever it was, a monumental skull of some sort? As he closed in towards his king, he made out more details of the skull, it was a Dragon’s skull, but much larger than any he had ever heard of. It was almost the size of the castle, and King Calius was chanting some dark foul ritual, and he was growing weaker, and weaker. Talon rushed down the stairs, and was so close, so close to reaching out to King Calius, and stopping the ritual, but then he felt like he was punched in the gut.
Talon was hurled to the ground nearly a dozen feet back, and quickly he examined himself for physical injuries. Aside from minor bruises, he saw no blood, no mortal injuries. Standing up, he determinedly ran at King Calius again, and again. Each time getting knocked backwards by this seemingly impenetrable barrier that hurled him backwards. At one point his lower back crashed into the stone stairs cracking the stone with great force, and he felt pain in his lower back, but this was his king, his friend! He would not give up, even if he was going to die trying to save him. But, he never got the chance. A Legionary grasped his shoulders and when Talon looked at the Legionary it looked like he was screaming at him, but he heard no noise. That’s when he realized the chamber had filled with a shriek so loud, so deafening, nothing could be heard over it. Talon felt faint, and the Legionary pulled him back, and helped him to his feet, and up the stone stairs, where they all stool at the top of the steps, and they looked upon the final moments of the ritual. The eyes of the skull were brilliant, fiery, and flowing with blood, and King Calius was laughing like a madman by his posture, and finally he crumbled. But not as a man, but as a pile of smoking bones.
Talon took everything in, and saw his Liege, King Calius reduced to a pile of smoking bones at the bottom of the crater. That is when the skull, massive as it was, began to shift, and move, and the walls of the chamber began to crack, and the ceiling began falling down in chunks. Talon knew he would die if he stayed, and even if he wanted to go and take the remains of his king, he knew he could not. What was happening was now beyond them. All he could do was watch, helplessly, and stagger out of the chamber.
The world shook that day, and even as Yissori, Bishop Cornvern, and others began to make preparations against the darkness that was to come Thaiodominous, the World Devourer had awakened, been reborn regardless, and so soon. There was nothing any of the mortal fools could do to stop him, there was nothing anyone could do to stop the might of Thaiodominous, for his name spelled death, doom, and he was the world devourer. The world felt the awakening, and the world shuttered with fear, for what could possibly be done to stop this monstrosity?
Chapter 3:
The Beginning of the End of an Era
The Tales of the 400 Year War & 5th War
The Humans
Humans are often seen as opportunists, they take what is presented to them without question, and they snake their way into obtaining their desires. Humans are 5 to 7 ft. tall and weigh 100 to 250 lbs., many humans range in appearance based on where there are from, but most have white, tan, brown, black, or dark skin, with shades of blonde, brown, red, auburn, black, and silver or white hair with shades of green, blue or brown eyes, some have unique eye shades as well.
The Dragons, their most ancient allies were as gods to Humans before the start of the 400 year war. Their ancient knowledge was something to simply behold, and when the Dragons suggested they ignore the call of the Elves, and dishonor their treaties and march to war against the Orcs for land and glory, how could they resist? The Humans sacked countless acres of lands from their former allies, and stole the sacred lands of the Centaurs, but were pushed back by the Orcs when they claimed the Hordelands, the primary battleground during the 400 year war.
A human tends to be seen as the most widespread of all of the races of the surface world. They can disperse themselves in new cultures very easily, and reproduce just as easily. Some races see humans as a virus, or a threat just for these racial differences.
Much of human culture is very perplexed much like they themselves are sometimes seen as. The main reason for this is that they have so many different religious outlooks, beliefs, and cultural structures that there is no singular defined primary culture. A Human has no sacred traditions that are more than a few hundred years old at most, and Humans are for easily persuaded to new ideas and even if they don’t realize it, can change as a whole and become a stranger to friends.
Humans are often seen as hearty folk, and those whom dare have adapted to live in even the harshest environments. Because of their natural ability to adapt, the Human can live in many places that most would see as ridiculous or outrageous. But, it offers a unique aspect to those few Humans brave enough to adventure out, and it offers them freedom and solitude.
Many humans follow different terms of leadership. They range from a Monarchy, a Democracy, and even Socialist societies. A leader of a community or kingdom need not be of noble decent, but merely the chosen leader, or the founder of that location. But leadership roles often follow the typical monarchy or single ruler leadership, but sometimes leaders are elected if one is not fit to lead, or if they are in need of a new leader, but sometimes the position is inherited.
The real problem with leadership and the nature of humanity is simply that not every Human shares the same belief. Thus they set up systems to weed-out, change, or remove their leaders from leadership or office, sometimes even by force. As a result, most leaders are strained with leading the way they want to, and end up making careless, or reckless choices.
Typically, the average Human will travel miles from their birthplace throughout the entirety of their lives. Unlike other races who commonly claim a home, and dwell within until confronted by opposition. This may not always be the best choice, but who is to tell Humans, or other races that they are wrong for following their instincts. It is just who they are, and no one can take that away.
Humans by nature are timid, untrusting, and fearful of the unknown. This often leads them to be uncertain of new creatures, or new events that might come their way. Being that, many humans often turn to aggression when confronted with the unknown, and usually attack or run from it.
Sometimes in human controlled kingdoms, and cities there is often an urge to expand their lands. With humans, this is often done by force, and as a result of the depletion of the resources within an area. During this time period, hygiene and sanitation were not yet conceived. Many humans lived in their filth, and often end up festering in disease. Usually, the conquering heroes returned to find death and starvation rampant in their own lands, and many heroes turned into villains.
Humans whom typically dwell within Human cities tend to lack the knowledge of proper maintenance to make their lives better. While writhing in their filth, many Humans just accept their despair. Humans can end up sharing generations with similar lives, and the fates of their parents.
Many Humans are very perceptive to learning, and learn the traits of the parents; birth or otherwise. While growing into the beliefs they were taught or self-taught. Every Human learns exceedingly easier than most other races, and this can become the key to their survival.
Having a natural fire in their blood, Humans share the same vices in their veins. Many Humans, if their morals and beliefs allow it, have succumbed to even the most unimaginable lifestyles. Having a natural greed, intolerance, exploitation, and free will, many humans act on their instincts no matter how disturbing or depraved they might be, and these often lead to hurting others.
Humans by nature are solely out for gain. This is why many work their entire lives trying to make money to survive. Humans prefer two main types of work that share variants, lucrative work, and steady work. Though other humans also work for the benefit of others, and do no accept payment for their deeds, and this is often seen as commendable or weak, and often a rarity to behold.
Humans by nature, and possibly upbringing, choose to work hard, work steadily, work fast, work slow, or not work at all. Having the choices between lucrative work, steady work, or not working at all, many would prefer the latter. Most are not lucky enough to survive on looks, or family name.
A Human army typically consists entirely of Humans. This is because most Humans do not actually trust other races to defend their lands, mainly because they might have marched against those races in their past. While having many of their armies nearly entirely Human, many of these armies actually march against other human lands. Half Orcs can also march in Human armies.
Humans by nature tend to be a little destructive. While other races band together, Humans can war against themselves and others even at the same time. Typically, most Humans fight another over land, disagreements – religiously or otherwise, power, greed, and even out of blood-lust.
Humans can by nature believe they are better than another creature simply because that creature might appear different. These differences might be by skin, blood, birth, upbringing, and by being born another race. Because of this, Humans tend to be born to argue. Arguments can then lead to fighting, and fighting is seldom an answer to differences, which can even lead to war.
Humans unlike any other surface race are noted for being masters of deception. Typically many do not share this trait. Entire wars, lives, kingdoms, and so forth have been destroyed and altered by manipulation, motivation, deception, greed, jealousy, love, and hatred. This is mainly why many races are indifferent towards any human they first meet, especially if they have guile.
The Halfling
Halflings are often referred to as short, stout, and brave, well, braver than other creatures of their size. Halflings stand roughly 3 to 4 ft. tall, and weigh 50 to 100 lbs. Halflings are typically be-speckled, and often have beards and mustaches like Humans. Halflings tend to have blonde, golden, brown, and black hair, and shades of blue, brown, and green eyes.
Halflings have lived in peace for what seems like an eternity, or so their history says. During the 400 year war, their protectors and allies, the Humans left to conquer lands leaving the Halflings to fend for themselves. As a result they learned firsthand how to defend their lands. Their enemies underestimated them, and the Halflings for a better lack of a word won, but their history denies them ever taking part in the war as a whole, but they have a fierce nature if provoked.
Halflings typically are kind, peaceful creatures that live in small hill-like houses. Spending most of their days typically eating 7-9 meals a day, a Halfling is typically stout, and many have been given nicknames for their round bellies. They are well tempered finding many things to be funny rather than an insult; in fact it is actually very difficult to make a Halfling feel insulted.
Halflings typically live in small communities in large valleys, low hills, and green lands. Living in places that are typically safe, Halflings live nearby Human lands finding comfort in their military protection. They also tend to the lands, and actively trade with Human communities making their community well-liked by most Humans, and are often held in high regard.
Though Halflings prefer a calm lifestyle, few actually venture to large Human towns for little else than trade. Preferring a care-free life, Halflings typically don’t have weapons on hand, and are very scarce within their communities. Most prefer a fishing pole or a cooking knife to a sword.
When faced with danger, most, if not all Halflings will run for their lives. Halflings by nature are typically seen as pacifists, and do not interfere with fights unless it goes against their alignments, or their morals. When faced with fighting, a Halflings first line of defense is usually to run, or to hide, which they are better at hiding than then are at running away from most creatures.
Halflings by nature are very spirited, and prideful. Most Halflings have strong moral backgrounds when growing up, and tend to be natural farmers rather than fighters. Many Halflings actually see fighting as a distasteful way of life, because it requires a lot of running, and footwork.
In a community, many Halflings parents train their children many survival skills, and a lot of basic knowledge. Because of this, Halflings are sometimes seen as rather intelligent creatures, and are naturally ambidextrous. With these traits, many Halflings actually excel at farming work, but find the work to be a dreadful nuisance, but they still do it with a smile and a care-free attitude.
Halflings find that wearing clothes of fine fabrics makes them stand out easier. Most Halflings spend what money they don’t spend on food, on fine clothing. Halflings have a great fashion sense, and typically find armors to be chafing, and gaudy, and typically will not wear them. Also, Halflings hate the idea of wearing shoes, because their bushy feet are naturally thick, and there feet are just are tough as walking in boots. Halflings don’t often complain about stubbed toes.
All Halflings share a few similar natural loves. They love the idea of agriculture, but they have a fascination with throwing things. The most common Halfling sport involves a sling, and a handful of rocks. Because of this, Halflings share a natural accuracy with thrown weapons, and slings.
For some reason, Halflings have a natural gift of gab. They tend to overhear things, and then five minutes later find themselves spitting it out without even realizing they had done it until it is too late. It is a weakness they have, they tend to overhear things very easily, and then turn around and blurt it out to the first person who takes an interest in them.
Halflings share a similar joy for parties. Every Halfling is more than happy to be a social little rabbit. When it comes to partying, Halflings are almost as bad as Dwarves, but Halflings love to tell stories, dance around, and by the end of they night, are passed out on the floor with a smile.
Family is very important to a Halfling; they believe that the togetherness of ones family can overcome any hardship. Because of this, Halflings share a natural togetherness like that of the Elves, but unlike that of Humans. A community of Halflings is one big family, though sometimes there are brothers, and sisters who do not always get along, and they need to be scolded.
In times of need, Halflings are very giving. A Halfling is more inclined to feed a homeless man, than to eat dinner for himself when traveling alone, otherwise the Halfling will be overwhelmed with guilt. Halflings are good-natured, and could never let another suffer if they know its wrong.
When a Halfling community is doing well, and their harvest season has finished, the community typically donates large amounts of gold to churches, monasteries, and other non-profit factions. Though, a Halfling isn’t as inclined to give the shirt off their backs as they are to spare a coin to put a smile on a face. A Halfling will give solely because it is the right thing to do to help others.
Halflings are very sly. They are able to think up ideas very quickly, and act on them. If they know they are being tricked, a Halfling will typically let themselves fall prey to the trick, and then do a trick back themselves. The coin purse they traded for the fake work of art always seems to end up back on their side as the skip happily away with a smile on their faces.
When in trouble, most Halflings if they cannot talk themselves out of an issue will try to think of a way to get escape that situation. They tend to look for an opportunity to scamper away, and find a hiding spot. Though, they are not as inclined to hide in a place that a Dire Bear could sniff them out, and would probably be riding the rapids down stream instead.
When faced with disaster, a Halfling never looks at the disaster as a loss. If they’ve lost everything, a Halfling always tries to look on the bright side of things, unless someone has died. Halflings are very emotional creatures, and tend to show their emotions plainly. If they see suffering, crying, or sadness they will always try their best to cheer whomever needs cheering up.
Having a natural knack for learning different things, a Halfling can learn quicker, and like humans share their natural diversity of knowledge. Humans often regard Halflings as child-like because of their kind, innocent, easy-going natures. Halflings often regard Humans as tough, pained, and struggling. Halflings sometimes feel the need to help out if they can, and if their help is wanted.
In a community of Halflings, if it is a small community there is usually a single Elder who typically wields magic of some kind. Typically, Mages are found as Elders in Halfling communities because they are typically brighter, and can protect their people, because they lack of strength due to their small size. Elders typically like to show off their magic to the Halflings curious nature by tossing stones into the air and turning them into birds, and creating fireworks out of thin air.
Halflings tend to worship, and pray to Yondalla, the Goddess of the Halflings, who is the protector, and the provider. Offerings to Yondalla are typically given for a good harvest and protection over their lands. Yondalla has actually been known to punish evil aligned creatures for slaying her followers, but this is usually just a story passed down through generations to children.
At the start of the 5th war, the old King, Druldole Elaster was father to four sons whom hated each other, and a kingdom in revolt. Among his most trusted allies were the Destaroy’s of Fenhold, and the Greyhand’s of Edgerove. The three families have old dealings, and a long history of friendship.
The Dwarf
The Dwarf is often regarded in mystery; many think quite literally that Dwarves have no genders. This is not the case at all, as many female Dwarves can grow beards themselves, and have deep voices, and usually only Dwarves can determine gender of other Dwarves. Dwarves stand roughly 4 to 5 ft. tall, and weigh anywhere from 120 to 200 lbs. and have gigantic beards which in literal cases have been so long they drag against the ground while the Dwarf walks, often Dwarves have brown, auburn, red, orange, black, or silver braided or unkempt beards.
Leading up the 400 year war, the Dwarves were a very peaceful race living in mountains as miners and craftsman, but having been under increasing attacks by the Goblins and Orcs they had little choice but to fight. Against the wishes of their ancient cousins, the Rock Gnomes, and by the suggestion of their Dragon allies, they charged into battle leaving many of their fortresses and citadels unprotected. As a result much of Dwarven lands were conquered and lost to the Goblins. The Dwarves alliance with the Dragons & Gnomes ended, and a desperate alliance with the Elves was forged, though like many things this would not last.
Dwarven society is much different than Elven or Human life. From a Dwarven point of view Elven life is that of frolicking, and dancing around with flowers. (This may not be very far off.) Also, the human lifestyle is often seen as that of greed, loathe, and gluttony. Which to most Dwarves this is seen as a gross over indulgence.
In the Dwarven society there is typically one clan living within a citadel, fortress, or city. (However, most cities typically share the caste system, and have many noble families living in the same city) Dwarves typically see that trade with other species (such as humans, or at the least surfacers) is an indication of weakness. But, typically trade is a commonplace and humans pay large amounts of gold for mithral goods.
In the Dwarven society there are grudgingly hard workers. The king in most societies is often seen as fat, pompous, overweight fools. This is much different in that of a Dwarven society. The king is usually the symbol of the people having little superficial power overall in the kingdom itself. The Dwarven king must follow the laws passed down by the ancient kings or be dethroned.
A king, even among the Dwarves works no less than that of the most tedious miner. Not sitting on a throne in the lap of luxury like many other kings. If there is work to be done then a Dwarf regardless of position, rank, standing, title, or otherwise sets to get it done. The king however does play a very important role in the foundation of, and building of the society, but also plays an even equal roll in the balance of it, but has no personal power of his own outside of the laws.
The king may be on the top level as far as any one dwarf is concerned for the stability, and importance of the kingdom, but the king rarely gets involved in politics, and financial affairs. Having three different hands, the king typically appoints a high priest, a high scholar, and a high orator to work where the king often fears to tread the most.
Typically, a high priest works in the affairs of religion. The high priest also handles the religious views of both politics, and finances, and being seen as the most noteworthy figure below that of the king. Though most of the documents must be first overseen, and directed by the high scholar who is a master of documents in the society.
A high scholar’s roll is typically that of a librarian, or secretary. The high scholar manages the most important documents, and hands them down the line to the other scholars much like in human societies. The main difference between the two is that the high scholar also manages many of the finances of the society’s income, exports, and imports within the city. Though much of the trade ledgers are never seen by the high scholar’s eyes, his presence is typically enough to keep things in order.
A high scholar is usually inherited rather than appointed. The final hand of the king is that of the orator, or speaker of the common voice. The orator doesn’t actually address all of the actions, or events that take place. When working in politics the orator is always the hand, voice, and arm of the king. There is a Dwarven council in all Dwarven kingdoms which are typically appointed positions based on their completely different outlooks.
Dwarven politics is a very ugly, crude thing. If an issue were to be brought into a courtroom in Dwarven society it could take years, and maybe even decades to resolve a single concern of that issue. Much of the society do not like to get involved in politics, and in turn do not let their problems reach the ears of those whom might wish this fate of them. Power can be stripped, and a Dwarf’s honorable line can be dishonored because of something taken to light the wrong way.
The majority of all debates which are argued in politics are that of large issues. Typically, the most common issues are that of allies, wars, and major historical events. These are most of the prudent events that occur within many Dwarven societies. There are no small claims courts, and any issues, problems, concerns, or otherwise are typically resolved with the groups in question.
Dwarven laws are much different than human laws. They still allow duels, mudslinging, and so forth. There are many loopholes in the ancient laws which by tradition cannot be altered even by that of the king. However, if the Dwarven king so chooses can add a new law with only the signature of the high scholar, and if the King is cunning they might even bypass ancient ones.
There is no “Dwarven Prison” like that in the human world. A Dwarf regards all masonry, stonework, and construction as a work of art, and take pride in anything constructed by Dwarven hands. No Dwarf would ever design something to house criminal scum. They find it much easier to insight punishment of any crimes on sight, and without mercy, it might be messy, but it works.
Aside from what is commonly viewed as “lewd behavior” is often a dishonorable action not to society but to that clan, line, or even the Dwarven ancestors themselves. There is no punishment for these types of crimes. However, it may result in the subject being beaten unconscious and dragged into a ditch for acting foolish, the wounds may heal, but their pride and honor won’t.
There are two primary forms of religious beliefs which in many Dwarven Societies it is either one or the other there is often no middle ground. They are each respectable based on their belief structures, but neither one is more important than another. Entire clans have collapsed, and been torn apart because of disagreements of religious belief.
The first, and most common of the religions are that of Astral belief structure. A religion where Dwarves worship Dwarven deities which are typically known as the “forgers” of the Dwarves. Moradin is often renowned for being known as the father of all Dwarves, and that he forged the Dwarves from his own fiery hammer clashing against the anvil.
The second religion is often one that is used in cities that typically use the caste system. Their belief is known as the Ancestral belief structure, because the Dwarves whom follow this religion believe that their ancestors will watch over, protect, and give them strength. Most Dwarves that follow this religion see themselves as weaker than that of their ancestors as if they themselves have lost the powers that their ancestors once harnessed, and work hard to honor them.
The Elf
Elves are often seen as slender humanoids with long pointed ears. They stand roughly 4 to 5 ft. tall and weigh 80 to 140 lbs. and often have earth shades for hair and skin, usually their hair resembles the forests, and their bodies resemble the earth. Elves often have shades in their eyes which mark them to a certain clan, but otherwise they share shades of blue or green.
The Elves, once friend and ally to Dragons, Centaurs, Blood Elves, and Human. The Elves intended to be the forerunners of peace, and create a world for all to live in, but that all changed when they were overwhelmed at the start of the 400 year war. The Elves were overrun by the Orcs, and having no where to turn, they fled to the Dwarves and forged a powerful alliance with blood and magic, creating the race known as Warforged which they used against their new found enemies, the Orcs and the Centaurs, and could only watch as their Blood Elven cousins used the other races like the Dragons.
Being one of the most ancient races living; Elves only rival Dragons for their knowledge of the ancient world, and that of the arcane arts. Many consider Elves to be shapeshifters, illusionists, and even charlatans. An Elf is simply much more than that; they are the protectors of nature; they dwell in her forests, her trees, and in her most secret places always vigilant against evil.
Many Elves consider it folly to interact with other races. The Humans are not but children of the world. Simple ignorant creatures whom destroy that which they do not know, and cannot begin to conceive. Dwarves on the other hand simply wish to fight, argue over claims that do not belong to them. For the most part, the Dwarves stay underground or away from the Elves.
Living in the wilds is not always fun, it is survival. To go unnoticed, and to dwell within any, and all forests is no easy task. How can an Elf simply disappear like stories, and myths might suggest, an Elf might tell you that answer, if one could be found. Elves are very shy, elusive creatures.
Elves are born with amazing vision able to scale distances miles away simply by staring into that direction. Not much escapes an Elf’s vision, less it be another Elf. Among the trees, graceful as the wind, one must watch the subtle changes of a leaf as it falls from a tree to notice an Elf.
An Elf does not consider themselves superior to any living creature, not even their enemies. If they meet a creature, they need not look upon it’s features with judgment in their eyes. Elves watch the actions of others and listen. But Elves assume many are the same, and judge harshly.
Stealth being one of the Elves primary assets, use it on instinct. Even when drawing close to an Elf, their clothing, and skin-tone blends with the trees, shrubbery, and grass around them. Tracking an Elf simply isn’t possible either, because an Elf leaves no footprints, even in the snow.
In the Elven community however, life is much different than it is found anywhere else in the world. There homes are built around the trees, and around nature itself without harming it in anyway intentionally. An ancient magic that all Elves process allows them to create amazing cities hidden within the leaves and the trees leaving no notice aside from a breeze flowing through the trees.
In the Elven Society there are always elders within the community. These elders are the wisest, and most understanding of the world around them. It is even said that the elders can listen to the earth and hear it like a voice speaking softly to them like a low hum.
The Elder’s watch over, and nurture the community as they grow. For every Elf lives for thousands of years, this makes elves learn at a slightly slower pace. A child in the Elven community can be many years older than the oldest human, but know very little. Though all Elves learn at a young age how to fight and defend themselves with a weapon, but not all of them know the philosophies of what it truly means to be an Elf.
Elves are naturally physically weaker than most other races, and have a slender, but frail body. There are no overweight Elves, for if an Elf were to over eat, they would die because their bodies aren’t strong enough to handle it. However, Elves make up for it with a remarkable agility, and a heightened sense of awareness.
Many Elves in the world study to become a number of different things, the most common form of Elf is a Mage, but there are a seemingly equal amount of Clerics, Druids, and Rangers. Though most would not be afraid of an Elf waving a sword their way, not like if it were an Orc, or Human
It is taught that most Elves study multiple different ways of combat. The most common style is by using a bow, and casting the arcane arts. A herald is an Elven warrior who wields both the arcane, and the deadly accuracy of a bow. Every Elf is trained at a young age to use a bow.
Elves have an ability to sense natural life around them, such as beasts and other animal. It is something they have been blessed with. An Elf immediately knows when something isn’t natural, and is either made by humanoids, or is simply not natural like if an illusion spell filled an area.
All Elves follow different tribes, which are known as variants of the Elves. There are the tribes of the moon, the tribes of the wilds, the tribes of the arctic, the tribes of the sky, and the tribes of the veil. There is also an ancient brethren of the elves that was long banished to the darkness of the world, known as the tribe of blood in the Elven community.
The main difference between an Elf, and many other races besides appearance, lifestyles, and near immortality, Elves are of fey decent. They have long pointed ears, feminine facial features, hair, and eyes of the elements of their birth. Not only the four elements of man, but the elements of nature as well.
When an Elf dies from combat or physical harm they leave an echo of their existence behind. An unholy wail screeches outwards from the Elves physical body as they disappear. This can be more than just a frightening event to those whom view it. The land around them begins to wilt, but it does not die. Forever, where the Elf lay remains a patch of plants that represent that elf’s life.
If an Elf were to die a happy, peaceful death from old age, there would be left behind a permanent mark of beauty that will never fade away. The flowers and beauty may be cut away with force, but will grow back, and any attempts to hide the area will be overgrown in days. Elves leave their love, and peace with the soil they are buried, and their spirit goes to their deity.
All Elves share a strong bond with nature, and religion. Many Elves worship the Elven god, Correllon Larethian, who is known as the preserver of life, and ruler of the Elves. Correllon was once an elf himself, and when he took a mate, Lolth, the Queen of the tribe of blood, it is said that she betrayed Correllon, and for that she and her entire tribe was banished deep within the earth.
There are many Elven deities, there are sometimes multiple gods and goddesses worshiped in every tribe. Each tribe is different, but they are not enemies, they simply have chosen a different place to life, and to survive. Their lifestyles, and social lives are much different between tribes, but they all regard other elves as a friend, or ally.
The Centaur
Centaurs are often known for being the gardeners of nature. Many Centaurs take it upon themselves to protect the land from harm from ideally good and evil intentions. Centaurs stand 8 ft. tall and weigh upwards of 2,000 lbs. Centaurs often have manes and hair in shades of blonde, red, gold, gray, brown, and black.
The Centaurs once played a crucial role in the protection of nature. They were as brethren to the Elves, but when the Dragons tricked the Centaur. The Centaurs were tricked into believing that the Elves were wicked, and cruel, that they were really Orcs in disguise. the Centaurs defended their lands with deadly aggression.
The Elves having no other choice after having formed a treaty with the Dwarves, found themselves cornered, and they used their magic and Dwarven steel to forge their protectors, the Warforged. The Warforged nearly annihilated the Centaurs outright, having no real defense against the heavily armored, and magical creatures.
The Centaurs fled, and hid in the farthest, deepest corners of the world, well hidden from prying eyes, and harmful hands. In their exile, the Centaurs grew strong once more, and their numbers expanded greatly. Slowly, they began to venture from seclusion. Though, they blame themselves for their folly against the Elves, many of the Centaurs hold them in indifference, or hatred.
Centaurs travel swiftly even while carrying great loads of weight. They are as beasts of burden to themselves, and they are always hard workers. A Centaur can hold much more weigh than a normal creature of their size; they are like horses able to carry loads of weight on their backs.
It is said that Centaurs hold above all else sacred, a deity known as Skerrit, who is a god of nature and community. Skerrit brought them together with the Elves, and the Dragons deceived them against the Elves. For that Skerrit grows quiet only speaking to the wisest among the tribe.
Centaurs often go out in small scouting parties, and keep hidden. Centaurs draw little attention from unwanted eyes, a trait they learned from the Elves. Though, it was said that at one point Centaurs spoke fluent Elven, after the Great 400 year War, it was forbidden to speak at all.
Centaurs hold a strong hatred for Dragons, and are often indifferent towards Humans. As a result both Draconic and Common languages were taught to their children over many generations so they would not be deceived like their predecessors. It has been their goal to repay their deceit tenfold to the Dragons, and to retake their lands stolen by the Humans during the Great War.
To a Centaur all life is sacred, though they might hate their enemies; they have respect for all things living. They wish to bury their dead and their enemies if their enemy refuses to take their dead. Often it is highly looked down upon for a Centaur to keep a death in their family a secret, it is a cherished event that the entire community takes part in. For their enemies there is also a ceremony, but they usually mourn and bury their dead at the same time.
Centaurs usually aren’t hostile toward other creatures unless it is one of their hated enemies. Often as the case becomes, it is brought to the attention of their tribe. It is forbidden for a Centaur to charge into combat against their most hated of enemies alone.
Though religion is important to Centaurs, Skerrit their deity has grown silent for many of their tribe for many seasons. It is suggested that Skerrit is unhappy that the Elves and the Centaurs can no longer live in peace. The wisest of the Centaurs believe that Skerrit is quiet for a reason, but not even the most powerful Shamans can’t even commune with Skerrit without meeting a wall of anger from their beloved god. This also is of great concern, and a great fear to the Centaurs.
Centaurs are always armed, but are generally mild-tempered. Their favorite melee weapon is the cudgel or greatclub, and when scouting or hunting they carry massive bows. A Centaur will often employ a lance for charging purposes because it acts just like rider on a mount.
Centaurs will normally make a swift retreat when attacked outright, perhaps after firing a few arrows to discharge pursuit. Against creatures powerful enough to pose danger or follow them back to their tribe, appear to use this same tactic, except that about half of the “retreating” Centaurs will circle around to lie in ambush or attack the creatures from the rear.
The Gnome
These little, inconspicuous wanderers of the wilds are for a better lack of a word: Exiles. Gnomes are short, fairly stumpy looking humanoids almost like a small, lumpy nosed Halfling. Almost all gnomes have beards unless they choose to shave them, which are often in colors of tan, gray, forest green, black, brown, and sometimes silver or gold.
At the start of the 400 year war, the Gnomes, Rock Gnomes as they were originally called, were as brothers to the Dwarves. They spent countless centuries perfecting alchemy, and living in peace advancing the technology of the world. However, when the Goblins & Orcs began to assault the Dwarven Citadels and Fortresses the Gnomes pleaded with the Dwarves to defend their lands, not charge into battle, as a result they had to flee into exile or die where they stood.
Gnomes are often referred to as Forest Gnomes for those are the most actively seen Gnomes. Many such Gnomes once were referred to as Rock Gnomes long ago before the 400 year war. The gnomes of the stone disagreed with going to war, and they left the mines and their subterranean homes with the Dwarves to seek refuge elsewhere in peace or had to flee into exile by Goblins. Though, there are few Gnomes who wander into Dwarven, Human, and other lands.
The Gnomes did not agree with the Dwarves with their reason to join the war against evil. They sought to better understand their enemies, and their motives. As a result many Dwarven Citadels, Fortresses, and Kingdoms were nearly and most utterly destroyed or conquered by their enemies against the warning from the Gnomes to remain steadfast, and protect their own lands.
The Dwarves hold a manner of indifference towards the Gnomes knowing all too well their own folly, but they don’t know why the Gnomes left the stone. Instead the Dwarves turned inward and began to learn their selfish ways of guarding treasures, and hording what they made solely for themselves. Dwarves delved deep, while Gnomes foraged and learned the ways of the lands.
Often, a Gnome is not easily seen by mundane creatures. A Gnome will often activate their innate natural defenses while they wander the forests, and they blend into their surroundings. Only those with keen senses or the knowledge of magic can even hope to notice these tiny tricksters. Gnomes have a knack for hiding, and protecting themselves by innate magical means.
Though Gnomes live in the forests, they often do not live off the land as one might think. Like Dryads, a Gnome will oft seek hallow trees in which to build their stead. But unlike Dryads, they can’t simply magically manipulate the interior of the tree, well, maybe some Gnomes have the power to do so, but not without magical training.
Gnomes by nature are nervous, and sometimes even a little paranoid. They tend to keep hidden, and avoid potential dangers while traveling the wilds, but sometimes they run into dangers, local creatures, and even long-lost cousins. The Centaurs are common creatures of the wilds which Gnomes tend to familiarize themselves with. Though they do not greet each other as friends, Gnomes and Centaurs have been known to communicate on matters of similar interest and peace. Gnomes rarely see Elves unless they go looking for them, they like it that way.
Gnomes often make their homes in a forest clearing. The houses are usually the trees themselves, which makes them well hidden. But an almost dead give away is that there are usually toadstool rings, which the Gnomes sit upon during large meetings.
Gnomes share several long-lost cousins, one of which, very distant is the Dwarf. However, as stated above they are not near and dear friends. Often a Gnome will encounter a Deep Gnome or Svirfneblin wandering the forests at night, scavenging for food, or even their other cousins, the insane, confused, and utterly dangerous, Derro. Though, more commonly wandering the surface is another such cousin of the Gnome, the Powrie; a evil, frightening cousin of the Forest Gnome.
Svirfneblin are often only found in the Upperdark, the closest level of the Underdark nearest the surface. Svirfneblin are often gray or white haired, but occasionally they have black hair. They are often confused as their dangerous cousins, the Derro, but one usually realizes after a few moments there usually is no posing danger, Svirfneblin are warriors, but they are also curious, and playful to others of their own kind, including other Gnomes.
Derro were once sane, but after living in the Underdark they have lost their minds. Though, not all Derro are completely insane, some of them have bouts of sanity at which time they get flashes of brilliance. Though often times a Derro will never attack their allies, a Derro will work in groups fairly well, they just do things which others often become nervous about. Derro are more prone to charging through a trap than letting the Rogue disarm it.
Powries are similar to Dwarves in nature, but are much different in appearance. Powries like most Dwarves have barrel chests, and short, stubby necks. However, Powries have thing, long, and powerful arms. Powries also have a distinct feature that sets them apart immediately, Powries where are blood-red cap. This cap shimmers with magic, and it is rumored that these hats are coated and kept shiny by the blood of humans, a Powrie will typically hold other gnomes in friendly terms, but a Powrie never holds stable alliances for long, their lust usually destroys them.
Gnomes do not have any large cities, or kingdoms after the 400 year war, many prefer to live in small patches of trees circled together. They may inconspicuously set up bridges, and pathways above traveler’s heads which appear to be nothing more than mossy vines. Gnomes band together in small communities, because they feel larger communities draw unwanted attention.
In their small communities, Gnomes will often discuss various things in the patch in front of their gathered houses often called toadstool rings. The discussion may vary, but usually simple things are discussed such as gathering food, potential dangers, and even potential allies. Though the ladder of the topic often results in an argument, and can bring fighting amongst the community if they do not all trust the potential ally. Usually Centaurs are at the utmost topic of conversation.
Though Gnomes share similar religious beliefs as most other races, they often find themselves wondering about things which can hold their thoughts for hours. Gnomes often follow the Astral religion, but some of them try to grasp knowledge as whole. Gnomes who attempt to understand knowledge often spend their entire lives around it, and will in many cases devote their lives to it.
Some Gnomes devote years to the advancement of technology. Those few often find themselves wandering back to the Dwarves where they find better use of their ideas. But, many Gnomes who research knowledge as whole will often delve in search of anyone or anything willing to let their imaginations soar to create and devise new inventions, even powerful, and deadly new weapons.
The Lizardfolk
Lizardfolk are often referred to as a whole, but in reality there are several common sub-races amongst the race of Lizardfolk. Often as the case may be, Lizardfolk are large, green, reptilian-looking humanoids. They stand roughly 4 to 7 ft. tall and weigh anywhere from 80 to 250 lbs. Most Lizardfolk, however, do not have much body hair, if any at all, and often have skin tones ranging from gray, brown, green, red, and even black.
Using marshes, lakes, and fresh water bodies as a refuge. Lizardfolk will often seek a damp, dark place such as a cave as shelter. Usually, when one Lizardfolk finds a new lair, many more are sure to follow and pop up in this new found refuge. This could just be a coincidence, but more likely than not, they track other Lizardfolk by scent that leads them to their new lair.
Though, Lizardfolk have fairly short lives, they often approach many arising threats to their lair as if they had always dwelled there. Often attacking first, and then blaming their faults on others, especially through their crude ideals of diplomacy. Though this may not always be bad, if they have a large enough lair, many respectable communities will often keep them there as an acceptable tolerance, unless they get under their skin. Lizardfolk are usually seen as vermin.
As the case most usually is, many Lizardfolk are not looked at for being very intelligent. Often seen as primitives, Lizardfolk band together, and act territorial, but they will not always recklessly charge at every intruder that enters their lair, sometimes they will try communicating and giving intelligent creatures the option of leaving. Occasionally, they might ask their intentions, but often it all comes down to how intimidating the intruder is, and how large the Lizardfolk clan is. The larger and more organized, the better chance they will communicate rather then attack.
Lizardfolk call under them, a number of different companions ranging from humanoid to monster. Often Lizardfolk will have Kobalds, Kuo-toa, Sahuagin, Troglodytes, monitor lizards, and other various reptiles living amongst them. The larger the clan, the more diverse their population.
Kobolds are small reptilian nuisances that often invade large communities scavenging for food. Often seen as too stupid to learn, Kobolds are often exterminated in large numbers by respected communities or used as slave fodder by evil ones. Kobolds, however believe they are highly intelligent, and descended from Dragons, but in reality a Kobold would sooner throw a spear at a calmly advancing diplomat than sit and converse with one.
Kuo-toa are the amphibious Underdark cousins of Lizardfolk. They are more frog then they appear lizard, but they are highly intelligent, in comparison to many Lizardfolk. Like most Denizens of the Underdark, the Kuo-toa have been known to be vicious, and they worship an Elder God known as the Sea Mother, or Hydra, the wife of Dagon.
Sahuagin are fish-like reptiles that live in the deep oceans, and dark places of the world. They often form purebred tribes, and possess a great deal of magical prowess for a so-called primitive creature. Having a large, deep ocean civilization, Sahuagin often keep many races as slaves including powerful creatures such as Blood Elves, using the deep water caves as prisons or mines. The slaves are free to leave, if they can handle the intense pressure, and hold their breaths under the water for hours. Sahuagin worship a Elder God known as Dagon.
Troglodytes are one of the fellow cousins of the Lizardfolk. Troglodytes appear to be more monitor lizard than Lizardfolk in appearance, having a large flap of skin under their necks. However, what really makes a Troglodyte stand out is their stench. Troglodytes are some of the most foul, pungent smelling creatures in existence. In fact, simply standing in their presence is enough to make one loose every meal they have had that day, and even the day before, too. Troglodytes are legends in their own right in regards to stench, and even the most dull fool knows immediately when they walk into a Troglodyte lair, and usually they run, and keep running from it.
Sometimes in large enough tribes of Lizardfolk, there is amongst them a Shaman that will often serve as a guide for the clan’s progression. Though in many cases the Shaman is second before the chieftain who may or may not even be a Lizardfolk themselves. Usually the biggest, toughest creature that enters their midst that isn’t going to outright kill them becomes their chieftain.
To become a chieftain in a Lizardfolk community, one simply needs to be the strongest, or most cunning. Often though, one simply needs to earn their dominance through combat. If an Ogre joins into their midst they will flee or praise the creature with dominance. If it is intelligent enough to accept the role, it may take immediate control of the tribe unless another creature stands against it, which most Lizardfolk would sooner flee than fight something much larger than itself.
Though Lizardfolk might seem like they do not process exceptional prowess in combat, often the case is, that Lizardfolk often lack weaponry, far more than prowess. Give a Lizardfolk a big, bashing weapon and they’ll chase down an Ogre, skin it, and drag it back to the lair for dinner. As noted, Lizardfolk are exceptional warriors, and are sometimes even exceptional tacticians.
Shamans in a tribe of Lizardfolk will often be one of the only members in the tribe to actually worship a deity. Often because Lizardfolk do not understand the complexities of simple religion. As the commonplace is in the belief structure, many Lizardfolk are Pagans, following their Shamans and performing ceremonies, sacrifices, and other more uncouth practices.
If a tribe were to fall apart, or be overrun by large numbers of attackers, Lizardfolk are very hearty. Often they will simply move to another location with or without collecting their variously stored treasures, and simply start again as if nothing happened. Lizardfolk are if anything, very difficult to exterminate, and will often prove a greater threat, and too time consuming to bother.
The Goblin
Goblins are sinister, depraved cowards, and unlike Orcs, there is no level in which a Goblin can deprave themselves. Goblins are often 3 to 4 ft. tall, and weigh 60 to 90 lbs. Goblins typically have ragged, unkempt hair that they let grow wildly, and their eyes are always red, and goblins are known for their trademark long, crooked slender noses that look like bent, gangly fingers.
Goblins were always depraved and twisted creatures, but when the Dragons came to them at the start of the 400 year war, and offered them great wealth, and power beyond their comprehension, they gladly accepted. The Goblins had no problem sneaking in and conquering the Dwarven lands. The Goblins would claim many of the Dwarven Citadels and Fortresses, which due to the lack of care from the Goblins these once beautiful and majestic works fell into disrepair, and the once great spanning Dwarven empire was cast into ruin, and the Goblins enjoyed it that way.
Goblins have been known to kidnap wanderers, or children playing too faraway from their homes. In most cases the victim is usually never found unless the event is acted upon immediately. This is often because many do not know of the lair of the Goblin, and may not recognize their loved one when found, or even regard them as more than a pile of charred and chewed bones.
Goblins don’t fuss about their lack of food, and many of them survive on eating things most regard as inedible. When a living creature comes their way, preferably unarmed, they do not hesitate to knock them out, and drag them back to their lair for dinner. Goblins usually band together in small groups often referred to as lairs, and half their number is usually non-combative.
A small community of Goblins usually consists of small groups of scouts typically of one or more goblins. There are no real leadership in their community, and typically the one cooking dinner is the leader, being often seen as the ‘mother bitch’ of the goblins. The female goblins typically toil cooking dinner with what they can find nearby to the lair, and what they have in stock.
Goblins may seem rather peaceful from a distance, but do not be fooled by them, they are tricksters, and will often lead travelers to their untimely end. Goblins are actually fairly liked in other evil communities, and are often welcomed, but they are given a one shot system. You mess up; you leave, and never come back, for about an hour. Orcs typically forget faces very quickly.
A Goblin’s role in any large evil community is often one of toil, or scouting. Goblins have a natural stealth about them; they are usually very hunched over, and are often used as slaves, which typically as a result are allowed to eat for a night. Goblin scouts can actually rival that of the Elves for their ability to sneak around without notice.
Goblins tend to scout in small groups because it helps them to get things done simply by pointing in a direction. A Goblin never wants to lead a group, so any one that spouts an order, or points a finger is automatically appointed leader of the group they are in as far as any goblin is concerned. This can often prove fool-hearty, but Goblins do not care either way, they just do what their told.
In large enough Goblin communities, there are often arcane casters, or divine casters that have enough ability to lead them, and this is typically a bumpy road at best. Goblins often spout out words like ‘king’ to anyone willing to control them whom are of their race. Because Goblins have no real joy for leadership, there is usually no argument or concern, and don’t question leadership.
A Goblin king is typically a tougher goblin, one that knows how to wield a weapon, or cast a spell or two. These Goblins are actually threatening unlike typical goblins, which unless they ambush you in groups. The larger the community, or group, the more confidence the Goblins have. Goblins think themselves unshakable until the Giant traveling with them falls, then they scatter.
Goblins typically show no alliance towards any creature, not even their own race. If there is a need to be a member of a group or a community it is typically for protection, and food. A Goblin won’t even think twice, or look back if they are frightened. Goblins tend to scare very easily, and will often seek out others from their group or search for other Goblinoids for protection.
Goblins being usually at the bottom of most food chains must typically fend for themselves. In most regards that means to steal, or take things that do not necessarily belong to them, but really what actually belongs to a Goblin; not much. Goblins learn at a very early age on how to survive, and the parents of Goblins have actually been known to eat their young in times of dire need.
As Goblins grow up, which is typically done over a years time, maybe two if their lucky. Many Goblins end up learning very quickly what it means to survive. Living in a cave, or a log doesn’t actually make food, and other things just appear, well maybe sometimes it grows on the walls.
A Goblin typically has multiple brothers, sisters, and sometimes multiple fathers and mothers. Goblins do not care about what the Goblins they are mating with are in relation to them, they simply care about increasing their numbers. If Goblins are left unchecked, they can spread in large numbers, very quickly, and overwhelm their enemies with sheer numbers.
Goblins are naturally resistant to disease, and poisons. Because of this, Goblins tend to make their own poisons, use them on their weapons, and almost always have a jar of it on their person, just in case. For some reason, Goblins naturally know how to use poisons, and it is very rare that a goblin actually dies or is ever injured from creating or using them.
Most Goblin weaponry is of crude make, and design, so much of it is flimsy. The only real benefit of this that it is easy to create, and therefore they tend to have back ups on hand. For some reason, a Goblin lacks physical strength to deal serious damage, but Goblins are naturally tough, and as a result they can carry much more than other creatures of small size.
Goblins are scavengers, and can easily find food immediately around them, even if it wasn’t there 15 minutes ago when the Orc was running behind the tree to “drop a big one”. Goblins typically don’t care about what they eat as long as they get something in their bellies that isn’t going to cause them to vomit up blood for the rest of the night, which has probably happened many times.
Goblins unlike Orcs lack a lot of Endurance, they can’t run for days on end, most can’t run for more than a few hours without having to stop and rest. Because of this, Goblins typically are not put in scouting parties with Orcs, and other creatures that move at a fast pace over long durations of time. Goblins simply aren’t built like that; they can’t handle all the running, or maybe their lazy.
Goblins as said are foul, little evil beings with no real loyalties. Goblins are tricky, but not random, or irrational. They typically have simple methods of operation, and when something goes wrong, they have no other backup plans, or the ability to follow commands. Goblins flee for their lives immediately after thinking their plan failed, and they will often have to be pulled back kicking and screaming to return to the fight, and most Orcs would sooner bash in their skulls against resisting.
It takes a lot to make a Goblin stare its own death in the face. Goblins will have to be marching in armies to stand and remain fighting even while they are bleeding out their strange blackish, blue blood. Orcs, and other evil races are often the catalysts for large scale wars, and Goblins are always wanted for front-line fodder, which they are promised piles of gold that they never see.
Goblins maybe seen as weak, but they train creatures that could easily tear doubters apart. Worgs are usually the best, and only real trained beast in their arsenal. Worgs are very powerful wolverines that have been trained to be unrelenting beasts of ferocious fury. Many Worgs will try to snap or even kill their wicked Goblin masters if they get the chance. If a Goblin falls off its mount, it will typically be the next thing the Worg kills.
Goblins that have a large enough community, and the protection, knowledge, and materials will build Worg cages. Worg cages are typically a circled pit with small alcoves in the corners for sleeping. The pit is typically lined with spikes, and the carcasses of those few who fell prey to the tactics of the Goblins.
Goblins typically have no real religious belief structures, but some Clerics, and other divine casters typically worship a deity known simply as Maglubiyet, the chief Goblin deity who urges Goblins to breed, expand, and overwhelm and conquer everything and every creature.
The Half Orc
Half Orc are large burly creatures often covered with thick, unkempt body hair covering their entire body. Often Half Orcs have flies buzzing around them, and give off a particular musky pungent odor. Half Orcs stand roughly 5 to 7 ft. tall and weigh 80 to 350 lbs., Half Orcs often have beastly manes, and tusks or fangs which can hinder their speech, Half Orcs can often be mistaken for Bugbears.
Half Orcs are only a few hundred centuries in the making. It wasn’t until after the 400 year war started that Half Orcs began to pop up. Half Orcs were the result of Orcs pillaging and raping whole communities, and abandoning the women to have bastard demon children. Though because Orcs have a beastly appearance, and Humans can be very hairy, Half Orcs became more of a beast than a man. Their entire bodies are covered in a thick hide of fur, and they have bear-like features making them appear very intimidating.
Orcs are known as relentless, blood thirsty berserkers whose only purpose is to fight, kill, and rape. Orcs typically slaughter the men while raiding, and pillaging, take the children for dinner, and keep the women for reproduction. This is typically done in Elven, and Human lands.
Half Orcs don’t really have parents. If they are brought up in an Orcish tribe they are simply Orcs. They are mindless killing machines like their other brethren. Half Orcs born in Elven and Human societies are typically marked as a bad omen, and are either killed at birth or abandoned.
Half Orcs are usually orphans early on in life. Their mothers typically refuse to take care of an abomination, and the Half Orcs then become a burden for the entire community. Many Half Orcs are orphans in non-Orc communities simply because they were abandoned so the Half Orc is thrown around from house to house, and barn to shack not really having a permanent home.
Being born without a mother to nurture them can be very difficult, especially if they are constantly dehumanized as being a monster, or something horrible. As a result Half Orcs consider themselves very ugly, and are typically beaten, and driven down until they become mindless drones. If this happens, Half Orcs suffer continued degradation, and are typically used as whipping boys, or even free labor for the community.
Half Orcs typically do not gain freedom from the town until later on in their lives or if the community cannot handle their presence any longer. When they reach adulthood, which is similar to that of Humans they are treated slightly better by some of those in the community. Though for the most part many bigots continue to treat them like dirt, and maybe even less than that.
When a Half Orc reaches adulthood because of all the hard labors, and the Orcish blood in their veins they are much stronger, and larger than even the largest human. Having earned a little respect, most Half Orcs learn that they are not stupid animals, and that they now have a place amongst the community. The Half Orc becomes a protector, and is usually taught to fight.
After reaching adulthood, most Half Orcs are allowed to live their lives like anyone else, and are typically allowed to follow their destinies wherever that might lead them. Most Half Orcs typically pick up a sword, or an axe and never look back, forgetting about their birthplaces, and those who brought them up holding little resentment. Many Half Orcs wander off to look for trouble.
Many Half Orcs are aggressive, intimidating, and cold. When other children their age were learning, and running around playing, they were always working hard all day long. It was typical that they were always the last to eat, if they got to eat that night and that meal often was barely fit for a dog let alone other farm animals. Because of their upbringing most Half Orcs have no sympathy for those who complain about how bad their lives are, especially if their Human.
Some Half Orcs are filled with uncontrollable rage inside of their hearts that makes them ticking time-bombs. Because of this, Half Orcs tend to have little patience. They tend to be loud, uncaring, and rude when in social settings. Many eyes tend to be watching the Half Orc if they are a new face, and often with the occasional scowl.
Some Human towns do not even allow Half Orcs to enter unless they are well-known in the region. Gaining a reputation well enough to be liked is very difficult to accomplish especially so for a Half Orc. Usually the Half Orc must prove that they can do more than just use their strength. This often proves to be too much to accomplish, and the Half Orc foolishly runs off to their doom.
Because Half Orcs typically share similar upbringing of Orcs, they are not very intelligent. This is partially due to the fact that their fathers were nearly mindless, aggressive beasts that see fighting, murder, and pillaging as strong suits, and an excellent way of life. This however is not accepted in the Human world, and Half Orcs do not really like their fathers, unless they are members of the Orcish community where they are considered Orcs.
There are no Half Orc Lands, and Half Orcs tend to share similar lifestyles. Many decide to work as mercenaries, and others still work as Soldiers. Half Orcs mostly appear in Human Lands, they aren’t prohibited from serving in Human armies, unlike most other races whom must earn this right. Regardless of what a Half Orc wants to become, they usually end up lifting the sword.
Half Orcs have an inability to properly use arcane spells because they have Orcish blood running through their veins. There are Orc Clerics, and other divine casters, but Orcs are cursed with an inability to cast arcane spells, and this was also shared with Half Orcs.
Orcs, and Elves share a strong bond of hatred in their veins. A Half Orc however is caught in two worlds. They do not share this trait like their fathers, but they learn from their upbringing, or their community about how to feel about others. Typically Half Orcs have a strong apathy towards Humans, but are typically more friendly towards other races they have not met before.
Half Orcs typically have no real religious structures of their own. Some might live life through philosophy, or follow a religion like that of another race of creature. Most Half Orcs, however, share no real strong bonds with religion, and many do not feel they are liked by the gods. This might be true, but in truth, many deities look upon them with sympathy some even bless them.
Because Half Orcs have no real divine figures of their own race, many who feel the need to worship typically serve Human or Orcish deities. Depending on the alignment of the Half Orc, many serve deities that reflect their alignment, or class. Most Half Orcs which end up serving Orcish gods tend to serve Gruumsh, the cruel Orc god, who has no sympathy for Half Orcs.
A Half Orc might be tough as nails, but the real curse of the Half Orc is that they are very short-lived like their Orcish cousins. Half Orcs are born from Orcs who typically do not live past forty, and humans who rarely live past a hundred years. Half Orcs almost never live to see eighty years before they perish. The live fast, hard lives typically on the road, and seeing a lot of action.
Though some Half Orcs, as they grow into adulthood feel sorry for themselves, and see their entire existence as a burden. This is usually not the case, because it wasn’t their fault, they are who they are. They can’t change that, but they typically are more active than any other race in regards of their lives. Every Half Orc tries to better their lives, typically as defenders, sell swords, or working in a field of combat. Some even do greater things still by making a family name.
The Orc
Orcs are merciless, and born slave-masters. An Orc never has a problem with sending underlings to their dooms as long as they get to watch the bloodsport. Orcs stand 5 to 7 ft. tall and weigh 100 to 300 lbs., all Orcs have shades of green, brown, or black skin, and hair, while their eyes are commonly red or black. All Orcs have tusks, fangs, and occasionally have pig snouts.
Orcs have always been a shadow of darkness, and a blight on the land. They have regarded Dragons as allies, even though the Dragons didn’t directly aid them during the 400 year war. Being the warring force that started the 400 year war, the Orcs marched against all races, including the Blood Elves. Orcs pushed back the Humans, the primary rivaling force during the 400 year war, and conquered and still control the Hordelands, the main battleground of the war.
Many Orcs revel in the fear, despair, and anguish of others. The find great joy when their victims plead for their lives, before they slowly torture, or rape them to death. It is a frightening lifestyle, but many cannot even hope to stop the horde outright. The Orcs are relentless, even against human lands. They seem to attack with near limitless numbers, even after countless Orcs fall.
Typically, an Orc is a mindless war-machine bent on the slaughter of the weak, and the innocent. There is, however, other Orcs that stand out from the riffraff of warriors. Shamans, and Clerics of Gruumsh, and other frightening Orcish deities are highly regarded by Orcs. These leaders are very knowledgeable in war tactics, and it is very difficult to get any headway against these Orcs.
In the Orcish community, there are different sections in the community. The lowest wrung of the community are the warrior tribes. The warriors are the easiest trained of the community, and Orcs naturally have a proficiency of axes, and their frightening appearance makes any Orc warrior a match for even a skilled combatant. Orcs aren’t afraid to die, so they fight fearlessly.
The next wrung up in the community are the cultists. Skilled magic wielders that study the ways of death, and suffering. A cultist does not cast arcane spells, but a combination of both arcane and divine magic. Cultists are considered more imposing then a common Orcish warrior.
The second highest wrung of the community are the eyes of Gruumsh. Powerful clerics that harness, and serve Gruumsh with terrible ferocity. Even the Orcs within the community fear the power of the eyes of Gruumsh. They are the primary authority of the kingdom, and tend to smite dead even other Orcs regardless of wrung for blasphemy and showing signs of weakness.
The highest wrung of the community is the Orcish king. The Orcish king is chosen by birthright, and by Gruumsh himself so say the Eyes of Gruumsh, to serve as leader of the Orcs. The king is typically blessed by the eyes of Gruumsh, and the king is always male. Males are known as the fathers, and regardless of their wrung in the community, females are always lower, unless they are eyes of Gruumsh, where it is whispered that the females can be even more frightening.
Orcs hardly ever find a need to wage campaigns, or wars against a single race of creature. Many of the Orcs are told to go out in small raiding parties to sack small villages, and other places with poor defenses. Mainly these raiding parties can be found all over the lands of the world, and some can be found hundreds, and even thousands of miles from Skullrock. They do not need to be by their kingdoms to survive, they learned ways of survival growing up.
Even in a kingdom of evil, Orcs have a great deal of respect for each other if they are of the same wrung in the community. They are friendly, and understanding to members of their own race, in fact, if one had only been brought up to see the Orc kingdoms without seeing the wars, and pillaging outside of them, they might come to believe that Humans, Elves, and other races might be the evil destroying the lands. In fact, the eyes of Gruumsh say such things, and encourage Orcs to go out and slaughter their “evil” rivals, for Elves not Orcs are a blight on the land.
There are strict laws in the lands of the Orcs, every Orc learns quickly to have knowledge of these laws. However, some Orcs believe they are above these laws, and typically leave the city in long-range raiding parties and may not ever return to Skullrock for the entirety of their lives. When out in the wilderlands, an Orc has only to answer to themselves and maybe an Orc hunting party.
Orcs move very quickly across the lands, because they have trained their bodies to resist fatigue, and even exhaustion. They are large, overpowering beastly creatures, and can go days without rest. This is a powerful trait of the Orcs, and this is primarily why they give other races such a challenge. Other races marching in the same way are forced marching, while Orcs can go a week or two non-stop before they are considered to be on a forced march.
Many regard Orcs as demonic, or vile evil creatures. This is typically the case in most regards. Orcs seem to smile as they charge down a foe, slaughtering them as they begin to flee. Usually, in most cases those victims are children, or simple farmers, and other peaceful creatures.
When an Orcish raiding party is successful, they do not immediately return to their kingdom of Skullrock. Many Orcs continue their raids, and pillaging, which can commonly lead to armed force tracking them down. But to an Orc, they care not for the future, for they have already killed many.
Most races have a strong hatred toward Orcs, and Orcs typically share that hatred. If an Orc raiding party spots a Half Orc alone, they will typically greet them in common Orcish manners, and wish to recruit them, unless the Half Orc tries to attack. Typically, the raiding party might offer the Half Orc shelter, food, or even supplies, if they can offer them. This often baffles the Half Orc.
Orcs love to poison, or pollute the resources of other creatures. They have been known to poison water supplies, and kill cattle, or other forms of resources for a community. When this is done, it typically preludes an assault on that community. This is rarely done against cities, or larger villages because most raiding parties are fewer in number than most in the community.
Regardless of their size, an Orc is very superstitious. If an area is regarded as being cursed, dangerous, or forbidden, an Orc will typically go out of their way to avoid that area. If forced into a place that Orcs are afraid of, they immediately are startled, and become reckless, typically running to their deaths without realizing it until it is too late, which is what their hunters expect.
In Orcish communities, there are typically no real celebrations aside from very important events. Usually once a year, Skullrock begins a chain of events, which cause the skull to smile, and for a week the eyes glow bright red from molten lava. This event is typically not threatening to the kingdom, but it is a sight that can be seen across the lands, and it foretells ill omens.
Orcs typically aren’t known for having hobbies, or interests outside of war, killing, and torture. This is often the case, but some Orcs do pick up on things they see in the villages they ransack. One might ask themselves, why would an Orc want to learn things from a village they destroy, but the answer is often because they have such a rage, they might feel they wouldn’t be accepted. This is neither true, the Orc simply wishes to wreck as much physical havoc as psychological.
The most common religious beliefs for Orcs are astral beliefs. They believe in a deity named Gruumsh, the unholy bastard father of the Orcs. Gruumsh once rampaged on the earth, once during the birth of the Orcs. Gruumsh became so powerful the only way to stop his destruction was for the deities to grant him divinity. As a God, Gruumsh still conquers and is unstoppable.
The Blood Elf
The Blood Elves, are a cruel, evil race of elves. Blood Elves are often referred to as Drow Elves, they have locks of white or silver hair, and ebony skin. Often Blood Elves share skin tones from gray to black, and their eyes are unmistakable being red, green, purple, or varying shades of orange which can in some cases resemble fire.
Blood Elves were once allies of the Elves. They were as brethren, but having been the primary instigators during the 400 year war. They set the Orcs against the Elves, and when the Elves needed allies the most, the Blood Elves turned-tail and used the Elves as a scapegoat. While the Dragons played mind games with the other goodly races, and were abandoned to be slaughtered by the Orcs.
The Blood Elves didn’t always dwell deep in the Underdark hidden away from the world. The Orcs, after pushing back, and defeating the Elves were persuaded by the Dragons to rid them of their nuisance once and for all. The Blood Elves could do nothing but flee into the darkness of the world, betrayed, and outplayed by their evil allies. Though, as it would appear, Blood Elves hold no real grudges against the other races, well, no more than they do for their own race.
Blood Elves dwell deep within the earth in a place known only as the Underdark. The Underdark is a place like no other. It is a brutal and often deadly environment where all you can hope to do is survive. Blood Elves typically are known as the most powerful of the Underdark races, but there is little knowledge of the deep dark places of the world.
To most Blood Elves, all life is pathetic, and is to be shaped, beaten, and controlled by them. Because of this, many Blood Elves are arrogant, and only wish to corrupt the world for their spider queen. A name which is never spoken, but her name whispers like a breeze through the Underdark.
Blood Elves have two sexes like all Elves, but they usually only acknowledge females for having any real power. Females are the 1st class citizens, and are born leaders within the community. Though, males are often regarded for being great fighters, females always lead them.
The typical female stands up to a foot taller than most males. They are not stronger, but they are more charismatic. Having a strong lifestyle revolving around religion, the chosen of their dark goddess are always females, so it is said. Males in the community can become priests, but they lack much of the blessings of their goddess.
Blood Elves see beauty in darkness, though much of their buildings and structures share similar styles to the Elves, but are much darker. There are brilliant displays of lights that flash through out their kingdoms, but never outside of them; that might draw the attention of unwanted enemies. Aside from their own race, there are many, many enemies dwelling in the Underdark.
In the Underdark, there are magical natural structures which can be found throughout the entirety of the Underdark. These structures are called Earth Nodes; they are natural magical devices that many creatures of the dark know how to harness. Blood Elves can naturally sense these nodes, and harness the magic within them.
The Earth Nodes of the lightless world of the Underdark are very unique. These magic structures can empower spells, create magical items, materials, and even offer protection to those who can use them. Earth Nodes do not decay over time, but they do require a recharge period when they deplete their magical energies.
In Blood Elf communities, there are cities which contain houses within the community. These houses are strongholds, beautiful castles, and unique stone buildings built from stone and cavern walls. As much as they are beautiful to look at, they are equally as deadly. There are hidden horrors within them, and around them that many do not see until it is too late.
In these houses, there are always a small noble family of Blood Elves which are protected by hundreds, and even thousands of soldiers, shadows, and wielders of magic. These nameless Blood Elves tend to be of weaker families that were welcomed into the house of a powerful noble family, often as slaves. At the top of every house is a ruler, which is known as a Matron.
In a single community there are ranks of houses, ranging from the strongest house, to the weakest houses in power. The strongest house is typically the house with the most influence, and blessings from their spider queen. The most powerful Matron of that house typically acts like the leader of the community, and they take it upon themselves to create events, and laws.
Aside from the matrons within a house, and the noble born families, there are others living within them as well. There is always scheming, conspiring, and betrayal within every house. There is no crime if a body turns up without a killer, and most Blood Elves do not care to investigate.
The laws of the community are dark, and dangerous. If there is a murder, and it is revealed publicly, and there is a known murderer, then there is a crime committed. If there is simply a murder, and there are whispers, there usually is no investigation. Blood Elves are always scheming, and they think up very complex plans that can be years in the making. Often these schemes are what the Spider Queen grants her blessings for.
The constant change, and ever-changing control of power, their dark Goddess watches with curiosity. Her dark children are always stirring up new events. It is most interesting to Lolth to sit back, and watch them from her lair within the abyss while they kill themselves and others.
Blood Elves have a natural desire to call demons, and interact with them on a regular basis. Demons dwell on the plane of existence known as the Abyss. Some of them have met, and even serve their dark goddess. Demons are known for their wealth of both knowledge, power, and they are very adamant about who this knowledge goes to, and for what price.
Though a Blood Elf cannot travel to the plane of the Abyss without learning a powerful spell, most high-ranking figures interact with these denizens of the abyss regularly. Their dark goddess will appoint handmaidens to her most powerful, and loyal Matrons, and these creatures are called Yathchol. They resemble a mass of tentacles, and large glowing red eyes are known for driving the weak of will irreversibly insane.
Other creatures within the community are often slaves, and servitor races. Which are typically all creatures from the surface world which are taken as slaves, and servitor races. Other creatures that are created from Blood Elves are known as Blood Striders, which are half Blood Elf, and half Spider, these creatures are hated abominations, and often killed or banished outright.
Though, little is known about their goddess, most Blood Elves simply refer to her as Lolth, the queen spider bitch. She created the Blood Elves, she betrayed the Elves, and their Elven God, Correllon Larethian with her evil seductive nature. For her punishment, Lolth was banished to the Abyss. The Abyss is a plane of horrors which many cannot begin to imagine, a living nightmare. The Blood Elves were equally as punished, and were cast away deep within a world of darkness.
There are other deities within the world of the Blood Elves, but they are worshiped in different religions. There is a god of war whom is often worshiped by soldiers. There are also twin sister goddesses who are worshiped for their magical prowess. All Blood Elf deities are spiders like that of their queen, which were created by her, she however does not like to have powerful priests serving a different deity, and will often tempt them or curse them if they do not return to her.
The Jaezred Chaulssin is a secret, patriarchal organization consisting of skilled killers. Their goal is to rid the Blood Elves of the tyrannical rule of Lolth and her priestesses. They are "based" in the long-ruined Blood Elven city of Chaulssin, a surface city in the middle of a desert.
They began as House Jaelre, a former house in Menzoberranzan, which was destroyed for heresy against Lolth. In 792 DR The Church of Vhaeraun reveals that the ranks of the Chaulssinyr leadership have been heavily infiltrated by Malaugrym. The Masked Lord’s followers assume power and found "House Jaezred", an elite brotherhood of killers trained to ferret out and kill shapeshifting interlopers. In truth, they only visit Chaulssin to hold highly secret meetings. They are actually spread throughout the Underdark in each major Blood Elven city.
The Undead
Decaying, and foul, Undead are often high intelligent predators, hunting and killing living creatures for sport. Undead are highly respected in evil communities for their straightforward blunt nature. Undead stand 4 to 7 ft. tall and weigh 40 to 150 lbs., because they are often in the latter stages of decay. Undead often have fading white, brown, black, or fungus ridden hair, and usually have no eyes, red glowing eyes, or in some cases no heads to speak of. Undead often have limbs decaying and falling apart, which isn’t all too uncommon for an Undead to be missing.
Undead are said to not have existed before the 400 year war. With magic being released in such a mass, it would spread beyond the hands of their wielders and spread to the lands. Undead were raised from the dead as fallen warriors. Initially their role was simply to feed and fester, but they soon were given purpose by many of the evil communities, being hired as Rogues and forged a fierce name for themselves being regarded favorably and well-liked, especially by Orcs.
Undead creatures are typically known for being mindless horrors of the living world. But, this is not always the case. About half of the Undead reborn after they die retain intelligence. But, no Undead creature ever retains memories of their past lives, apparently their brain cells die after their living life ends. Undead does not remember how they died, but are drawn to different places.
When an Undead creature is reborn, they typically undergo decay momentarily. This decay can actually begin later on months after their death, and the Undead can awaken months, or even years after their living body died. This isn’t a problem at all, because Undead can live forever until their physical body, or spectral body is destroyed.
Undead do not have any lands of their own, but many typically dwell in places of death, and darkness. Many mindless Undead dwell within swamps, dark forests, graveyards, and barren places. Undead typically prefer dwelling around the dead, and believe that others like themselves will come to these kinds of places, and they can make groups, and sometimes even communities.
Many Undead do not have the good graces to begin their unlife in a community of their own kind. So, many Undead travel, almost being drawn in a direction, as if they feel their home is nearby. As an Undead travels, they do it at night because many of them fear, or hate light of all sorts. A trait that they share with their mindless cousins, but alternatively Undead can travel underground.
Though an Undead creature is not living, they still require sustenance of some sort. Fungus, decaying creatures, or objects, and even dieing, or dead creatures satisfy this unnatural hunger. Though they see themselves as zombies, or some kind of flesh eating Undead, they do not feel disgusted by doing this; they actually enjoy the feeling of euphoria they get from feasting a lot.
Regardless of what a living creature did with their life, they do not retain any of the racial appearance, or abilities they once had in life. In fact, Undead actually have magical prowess even if their physical husk was once a warrior. Undead also have well rounded statistics aside from their decaying bodies.
Having a strong bond to darkness, and evil, many Undead actually worship demons, and other Undead, or evil creatures. Many demons, devils, and the like actually find Undead interesting especially if they were summoned by them to answer a question, or to do a service. They may actually do what the Undead asks without requiring any payment simply to converse with them.
Undead creatures are typically hunted by living creatures such as Clerics, and Paladins. Though, when these creatures hold up a holy symbol of a good deity, the Undead merely laughs at them unaffected by its power. This is one of many reasons that Undead are feared by many.
Though Undead do not have lands, or large communities, many Undead are actually drawn to other evil creatures such as Orcs. Though, they might share no loyalties, they actually find larger numbers amongst them. It could be safer for them if the other race doesn’t find them to be a threat. In fact, Undead actually are regarded in the world of evil for having good reputations.
Because an Undead creature is a mystery, many other evil creatures regard them with both uncertainty, and curiosity. As a result, Undead are typically looked on upon with respect, and are given a good deal of renown in an evil community. Many Undead simply look upon this as an opportunity to garner more power, and Undead love power.
Power seems to be the only thing that means anything of real consequence to Undead. An Undead creature has the ability to sap, or drain the life force of other creatures, unwillingly if they are powerful enough. This typically doesn’t happen for many, many years, possibly even lifetimes. Though, if a creature is willing, an Undead creature can actually drain power from other creatures, this is typically granted as a reward for completing trials.
If an Undead creature eats food that requires metabolism outside of their typical diets, they actually begin to decay once more if at all possible. Flesh decays, bone rots, and so forth. Because of this, Undead creatures do not go near, and can fear the food of the living.
Though they may not look it, an Undead creature is very strong even if they do not have skin, muscles, or even bone. But, an Undead creature can wear armor, and wield weapons. Spectral Undead are among the most powerful of Undead because they can disappear, and have ethereal abilities that allow them to avoid weapons from the physical world, but wear armor, and use weapons from the physical world.
A lich being a powerful spellcaster in the Undead world are literally Clerics, and Mages that have learned the special powers such as a lich’s evil aura, and other abilities as the Undead has become more powerful. Lichs are among the most powerful casters, and can make any living creature shake in their boots and flee for their lives. Who could blame them, well the Lich can’t.
Powerful forms of Undead are sometimes written in stories. Racial variants such as Death Knights can be learned by intelligent Undead. Because an Undead creature can become different types of undead, they are feared for their diversity, and often considered multiple sub-races in a single foul, unliving abomination. Undead often consider themselves superior to all life.
In a community of Undead, there are different levels of power. The lowest rank of the community is mindless Undead which listen to intelligent Undead without question. Many Undead band together, and use the mindless Undead as guard dogs. However, a mindless Undead will never follow the orders to attack another Undead creature; they do not see them as a food source.
Even though an Undead creature can eat rotting, dieing, and decaying things, they do not retain any nutrition from eating other Undead. It is actually looked on as being cannibals in their world, and Undead can be banished, or destroyed for this. An Undead creature, however, cannot die, or decay any further from eating of their kind.
Further up in a community of Undead are the guardians, or undeath guards. Typically they are the warriors of the Undead world, and they defend the more powerful Undead, seemingly with great resolve. Most undeath guards will fight until they are dismantled, destroyed, or they are commanded to do otherwise. Undeath guards follow orders of their betters without question.
Many Undead in the end are solely out for themselves. They do whatever they feel they want to or can do for their allies. Undead will never risk being destroyed, unless it was a dire need to risk their existence. Most Undead see spellcasters, and other dangerous classes as favorable, and they themselves typically try to use some magic.
The highest level of the Undead community consists typically of arcane, or divine casters. Sometimes, Rogues, and classes of stealth make very good leaders. The most powerful Undead are always the leaders of the community, but they do not fight for leadership. Undead typically form different sections of their lair, so they scarcely have to interact with other powerful Undead in the community. Undead often have powerful leaders in each aspect of their community.
The Githyanki
The Githyanki are planar creatures home to the Astral Plane. They are unusual looking humanoids appearing a combination of an elf, a goblin, and undead, but are none of the three. Githyanki stand 5 to 6 ft. tall, and weigh anywhere from 150 to 200 lbs. They have wicked-looking facial traits which can make others distrust or even fear them.
The Githyanki were once enslaved by their most hated enemies, the Illithids more commonly known as the Mindflayers. The plane-spanning empire of Mindflayers were overwhelming and so they conquered and enslaved many of the races native to the Astral Plane. Though that wouldn’t last, and the Githyanki fought for their freedoms, and hold a strong hatred for Illithids and many other races native to the Astral Plane. Which eventually led the War of the Astral Collapse.
Githyanki society is most unusual in comparison to what many might imagine. They live in a world where leadership is splashed around and there can be a lot of brooding similar to what one might expect in a Blood Elf community. However, there are not many internal wars, and the placement of power can be tossed around by ancient laws and traditions rather than bloodshed.
Usually power is chosen by a sacred Githyanki weapon, silver swords, anyone holding a Silver Sword of Gith is allowed to rule as they see fit, and they have a much greater sway in the community. To obtain a Astral Silver Sword of Gith one must go through a rite or ceremony, it is not easy, and may take many years. If the elder brood see it fit, they can pass down their silver sword to one who has earned it. This however may not always work out in the way they were intended because through several generations the Githyanki were at war, and enslaved.
Githyanki hold a strong hatred for other psionic creatures such as Mindflayers or Illithids which enslaved their races for eons. Though in that time the Githyanki learned Psionics themselves, and possess a magnitude of psionic based attacks. Which is why they can be hunted by creatures who feed on Psionic creatures, and they hold their powers in reserve for such an event.
The Githyanki have many enemies on the astral plane such as Slaad, a devastatingly powerful reptilian race of creatures who seek to hunt down and destroy the Githyanki among other races home to the Astral Plane. But the Githyanki have allies, a sub-race variant known as the Githzerai. Githzerai are the forerunners of the Githyanki society, and they united under the command of the rebel Gith and threw down the plane-spanning empire of the Mindflayers.
Githzerai are unusual in comparison to Githyanki. They dwell in self-contained, fortress-like monasteries hidden deep in the swirling chaos of Limbo. While unlike the chaotic system the Githyanki chose to rule by, the Githzerai hold stability within the monasteries. Each of these monasteries is ultimately under the control of a sensei, and those living amongst the monastery follow a strict schedule of chants, meals, martial arts training, and devotion according to their particular sensei’s philosophy.
Though the Githyanki have allied themselves with their cousins they focus inward before looking for assistance from their morally bound cousins. Githyanki themselves dwell within similar massive fortresses adrift the Astral Plane. Family dwellings within these fortresses are non-existent, since most Githyanki prefer their own abode, which often is a corpse adrift in the void. Usually, creatures of the Astral plane are magical beings, and their anatomies are different allowing for Githyanki and other scavenger or homeless creatures to dwell and feed upon them.
The Githyanki have a racial pact with Red Dragons, which sometimes serve the Githyanki as mounts. Individually, Githyanki are well astute when dealing with Red Dragons, and in large groups, Githyanki can make temporary alliances with the Red Dragons as long as they are substantially indulged and satisfied the Dragons. The Dragons will hold to the alliance until they grow weary of the Githyanki, or they desire more than the Githyanki agreed upon, which is often.
Githyanki have no deity, but instead pay homage to a Lich Queen, Tchiss. A jealous and paranoid overlord, she devours the essence of any Githyanki that rises in great power. In addition to eliminating a potential rival, the Lich Queen enhances her power with the stolen life-essence. All Githyanki expect this as an inevitable future, few are aware that there is more to their existence.
Githyanki sometimes go on expeditions to the Material Plane or are exiled there. An exiled Githyanki is stripped of their magical equipment, and are not given a very long life expectancy, and as a result the Lich Queen often ignores them seeking to watch over her chosen followers. Exiles are able to grow and adverse themselves in the lives and mannerisms of mortals.
The Dragon
Dragons are of the most cunning, elusive, and dangerous of adversaries in evil communities. Often a Dragon can assume the role and appearance of any creature they wish and gather information, or cause chaos. Dragons in their polymorphed form resemble humanoids; they can mirror any of the other playable races perfectly.
Many centuries ago during the 400 year war, Chromatic Dragons played a crucial role in changing the world. Having outsmarted every living creature, they became the catalysts of change. Chromatic Dragons serving under Tiamat ushered in this change. They convinced many of the other races to go to war with each other by use of their polymorphism, having the ability to change into any of the races, they would take on roles of heroes, leaders, kings, and the like to thwart alliances, wage wars between races, and ultimately cause as much chaos as possible in serving Tiamat.
Chromatic Dragons are typically black, blue, brown, green, gray, orange, purple, red, white, and yellow. These dragons typically use acid, cold, fire, shocking, and water breath weapons. Chromatic Dragons like Metallic Dragons have lethal breath weapons, capable of killing many targets at once, or devastating a single area or target.
Age is very important to Dragons. The older the Dragon becomes the larger, more powerful, and greater powers the Dragon learns. Dragons can live through the ages living endlessly through the ages. In fact, it is rumored that Dragons cannot naturally, but must be slain in combat.
Unlike Metallic Dragons, Chromatic Dragons are typically villain-like by nature. During the 400 year war, there were few Metallic Dragons involved in the conflict, and as result, the Chromatic Dragons have become dominate among Dragon-kind. If the Metallic Dragons had joined in the fight sooner, and in greater numbers, the effects of the 400 year war might have been lessened.
The Dwarves, and the Elves begged the Metallic Dragons for aid, they even received the aid of a powerful Gold Dragon, and a pair of Silver Dragons, but their numbers were far too few against the numbers of enemy Chromatic Dragons, and the forces arrayed against them. In the end, too few Metallic Dragons came to the aid of the other races, and it was their biggest mistake. Now the few Metallic Dragons alive slumber, or hide from the overwhelming Chromatic Dragons.
Treasure is always the key when making dealings with Dragons. Dragons horde tons of treasure, and some actually inherit treasure from a parent. Though the parent does not actually have to die to inherit this treasure, and typically it is a gift for aging. Dragons then can use this treasure as personal possession, and use the magical trinkets as well.
Dragons being very intelligent creatures have picked up a great deal of knowledge. In fact, Dragons actually hold some of the most ancient, and forgotten truths of the past. A Dragon learns everything their parent teaches them upon birth. It is not very difficult to learn at such a young age, most Dragons however end up putting it in the backs of their minds until they actually need the information.
Many see Dragons as huge beasts that are a blight upon the lands. This is almost entirely true, but Dragons are not always huge beasts. They grow from eggs tougher than stone, about a foot in diameter. These eggs can withstand the element of the Dragon type they grow into, if a Mage were to encounter a Dragon egg, they could guess which kind of Dragon they are handling. Be warned, Dragons make for bad pets, and the would-be master is often lunch.
Many believe that like humans, and other races, Dragons can be taught at a young age as a hatchling to be taught to be different from their heritage. Dragons are given knowledge from their parents at birth. So think again of making a new friend or a pet for these are not simple creatures.
A Dragon community typically consists of either a single Dragon or a Parent with a pack of hatchlings, or young Dragons. Dragons are solitary creatures, and do not dwell near other Dragons. Many Dragons of the same sub-race are usually hostile to other Dragons unless there is a Dragon of a different color involved. Two evil aligned Dragons will often gang up on a neutral or good Dragon simply because it is a different color, or because it is butting into their affairs.
Dragons have the ability to fly, and large enough mouths to swallow a creature of the same size, and a breath weapon. A Dragon typically will not eat another creature unless it is dead, but few have been known to eat creatures whole, in terms of fighting. This however, is usually a last resort, and can end up killing the Dragon from the inside, if the meal doesn’t agree with them.
Dragons have a natural ability to sense creatures walking into their lairs, and creatures nearby them. This ability is often referred to as tremor sense, and is a very useful ability to detect prey, and foes moving nearby. In fact, if a Dragon is old enough, and powerful enough they can sense a creature’s heart beats, breathing, and nerves twitching that all creatures, living and dead have.
A Dragon that transforms into a creature to enter another creatures lands, or kingdom are typically welcomed depending on the situation. If a Dragon takes on the appearance of a specific figure, important, or otherwise there is always a little suspicion. To limit this suspicion, a Dragon tends to watch others who watch their movements, and will often learn the ways of others.
Dragons are very sophisticated creatures. They prefer to talk before they eat on most occasions. Dragons will show great mannerisms when dealing with those whom enter their lairs, and while they are polymorphed. They typically can mimic the appearance, habits, weaknesses, and strengths of a creature almost perfectly. The only real problem is that they can still be seen by creatures with trueseeing irregardless of how well they can mimic another creature.
As a Dragon grows it naturally gains powers, spellcasting ability, and dramatically increases in size, and over all ability. Dragons can learn to cast spells like a Mage, or Cleric of their age category in addition to any character classes a Dragon might have learned. This makes Dragons very powerful opponents indeed.
There are no real religious structures in the world of the Dragons. Typically a Dragon acknowledges the god-like Dragons Tiamat, and Bahumat the mother and father of the Dragon-kind. All Dragons hate either the mother or father, and typically their parent is either male or female. Dragons are A-sexual creatures, and do not require mates, Dragons have one parent.
Dragons are can be arrogant, or overly aggressive, but hey typically act with respect to any creature speaking to them until grow bored or learn what they wish. The most common use other races gain from Dragons are the use of allies, seeking ancient knowledge, or to plunder their treasure. No Dragon would willingly part with their knowledge, treasure, or would work for free.
The Warforged
Warforged are an ancient race of living constructs. Because of their unique design, they were granted life, and unlike most constructs, they have a Constitution score. They are the most tough, and hearty race of humanoids to ever exist in most respected good or evil communities. Though, because they are ancient, they are also very rare to encounter, and are often considered myths.
Warforged were originally created by an ancient Dwarf and Elf treaty during a calm just before a long 400 year war, which without the Warforged aiding them, they would have never weathered that storm. Warforged were forged for combat like their names suggests, which can be a burden because they see odd or strange motions as threatening, and are often suspicious of new faces.
Warforged stand taller than most humanoids standing 6 to 8 ft. tall, and weighing well over 600 lbs. Many Warforged were crafted from tough alloys such as steel, adamantine, mithral, and even other various special metals. Usually the type of metal a Warforged is created of determines which path they are best to follow. Lighter alloys often indicate scouts, while heavier alloys often indicate front-line combatants, but a Warforged is magical, they often make bad spellcasters.
Warforged were awakened and created by magic, it runs through their veins. Potent magic still resides within them, and it would seem, for an endless time it shall remain. A Warforged does not simply die, in fact it is rumored that it is impossible to kill them, because often the case seems they just restart, and get right back up a minute or two later.
Though it may seem as though a Warforged is a greater or prime species, they are very humble. A Warforged lives by simple codes of logic, a Warforged will serve the laws of the surrounding areas not by a choice, but for the reason they were created. A Warforged may not be lawful in the aspects of what many consider for not all laws are lawful many can be chaotic. A Warforged will only serve the laws of ancient Elven and Dwarven rule, laws which many still exist.
Often times, the laws of the modern society can conflict with the Warforge’s ancient knowledge and programming. These can be good or evil laws depending on most circumstances. Sometimes when a Warforged does something they don’t agree with, they can react with hostility to those who uphold those “evil” laws, or if they see someone breaking their ancient laws.
Though, a Warforged is a construct, many might think they are dull or lack personality. This is not usually the case, because a Warforged has a unique personality based on traits they learn, and the glitches in personality made by their creator. Many Warforged pick up the mannerisms of a community after living amongst them for a time, which can go as far as being seamless.
All Warforged are programmed with a natural knowledge of combat. Many Warforged pick up weapons and swing them as if they had been wielding them their entire existence even if they had never touched the weapon before. Even the most difficult to master weapons seem to come easily to a Warforged. Many Warforged often carry with them many such weapons or even the most unusual, complex weapons ones imagination can conjure up.
What is usually an alarming sight are a Warforge’s eyes. Often they are large glowing orbs which shimmer, pulse, burn, or even explode with brilliant, beautiful, and dark colors. It is said that to see into ones eyes is seeing into their soul. It is usually impracticable to determine a Warforge’s alignment or motives simply by looking into their eyes. Maybe at one time the Warforged you see might have been created to look intimidating or evil, but they have become a hero for good or ill.
A Warforged also has frightening attachments to their limbs. Often a Warforged can have blades pointed off a shoulder, both shoulders, heads, hands, or even legs and feet. A Warforged may also appear to be a particular type of creature like a hybrid animal like a lion walking, or even a terrible demon. But usually they are not evil, and were designed to suit their creators tastes.
All Warforged harness some level of magic. Often though, it is highly improbable to see one hurling fire balls or any manner of spell of the like without arcane training. Though it is very common to see them surrounded by ancient magical auras, and casting protective spells to aid or harm others. Warforged were created by magic, and it is in there blood more fully than any other race of creature that isn’t made of pure magic.
Often being an ageless creature, a Warforged will take their eternal life in stages. Every lifetime of a Human they might walk a different path. Therefore, many Warforged have learned many, many things throughout their lifetimes and most do not walk the same path for very long. In fact, it is suggested that Warforged harness the knowledge of many things, including the knowledge of ancients, such as forgotten places, and objects of ancient and terrible power long forgotten.
Though a Warforged share a similar awakened system, none of them however share a similar consciousness or view of life. Many Warforged will often argue amongst themselves, and simply try to work together under a larger goal without bringing in simple, petty personal emotions into their goals. Most Warforged will often remain quiet, unless they grow attached to another creature, this may be because they have seen lifespans of similarly acting creatures.
In most societies, there are a very few number of Warforged, and many of them search for peace, large cities in which to earn fame, gold, and often as the case, is to serve a greater purpose. There is always fighting going on, and many Warforged find a good deal of comfort in fighting, so they go looking to conquer the lands for others, which sometimes they may encounter their brethren. In many sad cases they fight to the death, even if they do not share the beliefs of the country or place they are fighting for, but both sides are honorable and consider it to be a duel.
Many Warforged do not share the same ideals or beliefs of other races. In fact, often when religion becomes the topic of conversation, they commonly ask things which often feign on the ignorant and blasphemous. To many, Warforged have no religious views or understanding. Most likely because if they worshiped their creators, and they end up having to kill one of their creator races, their prospective might then boarder on insanity, so Warforged don’t have religious views.
Though Warforged do not share the same religious view of mortal creatures, Warforged follow an unusual lifestyle. They follow a light and dark path. A Warforged will often walk in a circle, doing great things for tens, hundreds, and even countless thousands of years, then turn into a dark, foul thing killing for pleasure, and having little regard for life. Though a Warforged can worship a deity, most do not, but it is not entirely uncommon to see Warforged Clerics & Paladins.
The 5th War
The story begins in the west, where the Orcs began changing tactics. At first, they would simply break against the Silver Dragon Knights like water on a stone wall, but eventually they began to calculate their assaults. Among there assaults, too were unusual monsters, not simply Orcs & Goblins, but large giants as well.
Hill Giants are not numerous creatures, but their numbers were enough to cause enough trouble to cause a deal of grief among the ranks of the Silver Dragon Knights. They began to call for aid, and with their request came word of Lord Thrax. Lord Thrax, a powerful Red Dragon, whom is often accompanied by Crush, a solid Black Adamantine Warforged of great power.
Lord Thrax was a calculating sort, always too clever, and began leading the assaults against the kingdom. The Silver Knights eventually scattered, their numbers broken, and the Orcs began clashing against the holdings. Their King, Druldole, was helpless to prevent such catastrophe from happening, as his armies were too scattered, and were occupied at every turn by such a force of Orcs as not seen in an age, hundreds of thousands, and more seem to be filling the lands.
For five years the Kingdom fought against the Orcs, and then the Blood Elves. It took a group of heroes, lead by the eldest son of Druldole Elaster, Logrik. Logrik was young, but he was formidable, and fierce, standing almost 8 ft. tall, and having the build of a hill giant, with easily the strength of one, wielding a powerful greataxe, Roar. He first lead a march to the north, to his younger brother, Delstirn.
Delstirn was a smallish man, clever, far too clever, and charismatic. He avoided battle whenever possible, but praised himself as a great swordsman, wielding a rapier he called “Giantbane” which he said he slew the previous frost giant king, Elthrgrothnaron the Mighty, and brokered a lasting peace with Elthrgrothnaron’s son, Brothnarnon, a cunning frost giant, and it was rumored that some deal was struck between Delstirn & the frost giants, but no one would ever openly accuse, or question Lord Delstirn.
Logrik had a great distaste for Delstirn, and Delstirn sent Logrik to the northern mountains, to the deep Frosthorn Mountains to claim a powerful artifact from the frost giant leader, Brothnarnon. Logrik met this frost giant leader, and immediately learned they had broken the simple peace Delstirn had made, and they had joined the Orcs, and Blood Elves, and assaulted Logrik’s small band, and in the end Logrik proved the stronger.
Logrik knew his brother had been the real target, and marched back to his brother’s holding to find it under siege. The castle was completely surrounded by Orcs, Goblins, Hill Giants, and most likely unseen Blood Elves. Logrik had to fight his way within the keep, and upon reaching the inner fortress of his brother’s holding, Lord Thrax appeared with Crush his Warforged henchman, and a band of elite guard.
After a great battle, Lord Thrax & Crush left unaffected, and unharmed while Delstirn, the youngest of King Druldole’s sons lie dead. The battle had been lost, but Logrik now had the makings of an army, and they marched with him to the south, to his father. Druldole, however, never lived to receive the aid, his castle was sacked by a legion of Orcs, and Lord Thrax himself, a solid assault force few could survive against.
Logrik, being the eldest son, and heir to the throne of Everess became king that night. He grieved the loss of his father, and needed answers. He needed to find the remaining Silver Dragon Knights, he needed to find the ancient sage of the diamond desert, his search lead south, his army remained camped awaiting his return, hopefully without being obliterated before his return.
After days searching the diamond wastes, Logrik eventually found the sage. The sage wove riddles, and gave more questions to the young king than answers, as sages were wont to do. Logrik was told to seek the coast of Lorrel near the coast of Fern, the Centaur kingdom. After a week of searching, he found a Silver Dragon Knight, whom lead Logrik to fellow noble family, Agron Destaroy. Logrik knew of Agron, and thought him dead years ago, but the Silver Dragon Knights have been waiting, and planning to counteract the assault of Lord Thrax.
It took some weeks, but a plan had been formed, and readied. It almost seemed a desperate plan, one that would leave the newly formed army of Silver Dragon Knights, and the army of Lorrel sorely pressed. They were to assault the western assault force directly, head on. It was almost a suicide mission, and it quickly seemed to become just that, as Lord Thrax knew of the assault, and set an ambush for young Logrik, in which lead his small band use a mysterious medallion abandoning his army to their own survival or die horribly. He used the unusual teleportation device, saving the lives of his fellow band.
Logrik ended up in an unknown environment, one deep underground, deep in the underdark. There he met a small village of Sylph, a once thought lost race of underdark fey creatures. The Sylph were in dire need of aid, who by luck stayed under the Orc legion’s radar, but ultimately attracted the attention of a powerful aquatic sentient race, the Aboleth. The Aboleth dwelled in the black lake several miles from the Sylph village.
Logrik agreed to aid the Sylph, as they might know a means of Logrik to return to the surface safely once more. Upon entering this aquatic stronghold, Logrik, and his band were captured, and when they awoke, found themselves in an a foreign, alien world deep within the black lake. Logrik had never encountered any creatures with psionics before, and it was violating to say the least.
Fighting their way out, Logrik’s band made for the Aboleth king, where they also encountered a powerful Mindflayer Mage who nearly destroyed the band. In the end, Logrik’s band proved the stronger, beating the Aboleth back to their own dimension, leaving the prime material plane for now. Heading back to the Sylph, they found the Sylph had a guide who could lead them to the surface, but it would take weeks to arrive on the surface, and it would not be an easy journey, but Logrik had no other choice.
After weeks of travel, and battle, Logrik’s band arrived on the surface. However, it was not in any place they had ever been or seen before. After a detailed search of the surface, they were not near Orc lands directly, but they could see the Hordelands not far off. Instead of heading into that desolation, they headed north instead, the only path safely presented to them.
When they traveled north, they encountered a band of Jotun Humans, powerful massive humans strong enough to kill a man with a punch, so it is said. These Jotun were, however, deaf to Logrik’s situation, but they did not kill them, but gave them food, and let them meet with the Jotun king, Butabandar. Butabandar, a weathered, ancient, and powerful Shaman of the Jotunbrune deity Vatun.
Butabandar did understand the threat of Orcs, but Logrik having no idea where he was in relation to Everess left the ancient king at a loss. But, all hope was not lost, for Butabandar told Logrik to seek the ancient dragon of the snow drifts, far to the north. Butabandar told Logrik he would need to battle the beast personally to gain knowledge, but the dragon would not kill him unless he showed weakness.
Days of marching later, Logrik’s band came before a terrible, and beautiful sight. The ocean for miles was filled with black ice snow drifts. The water was black, the sky was dark, the land here must be cursed. After days of traveling through freezing waters, land, and snow drifts, the band came before a strange sight. The water was surging into a hole, a hole 30 ft. wide, and the water around it seemed to be slowly sucking in the snow drifts around Logrik, and before the band could move away, a roar of epic proportions shattered the snow drift sending the band into the water, and into the unusual, frightening, and probably deadly hole, which each believed would be their watery braves.
Logrik awoke then with a start, finding himself in a shimmering, dark, frozen lair of some terrible creature. Seeing ancient stone steps leading to a pair of ancient, and massive doors roughly fifty feet wide, and at least a hundred feet high, Logrik seemed at a loss as to how he could possibly open the portal, let alone budging it an inch. Upon approaching the door, some strange, ancient, and powerful voice asked him a question in a language he knew not, if it even was a language, or a question.
Logrik could not figure out what the voice was asking, and he answered that he couldn’t understand such a language. Suddenly, the massive door began to open with a great deal of resistance. Beyond the door, however, the chamber beyond seemed even less welcoming. Within this chamber there were black crystalline walls, no windows, no side chambers, just a single massive chamber with a small hill of black crystal in the center of the chamber. Logrik began to enter the chamber, seeking some kind of hidden side access, or means of egress.
Suddenly, the mound in the center of the room began to shift, and crack. Within it appeared steam, or smoke, and as suddenly as it started, a loud cracking noise occurred, and a massive Dragon head broke it’s way out. By the size alone, this beast must have been beyond colossal, so massive even his army could not hope to fight, and win against such a monster. He wasn’t sure if such a god-like entity could even be killed.
The Dragon stared at Logrik, and then began to laugh. Logrik shouted out against the painful sound of the laughter, as it was so deafening that nothing else could be heard. The Dragon looked at Logrik, and then proceeded to greet him, the Dragon announcing himself as the ancient stone Dragon, Nimon, or Nimondrelnorthanarvel. After speaking with this ancient creature, he came to learn a number of things, this god-like entity was one of the original Dragons, and was actually a Druid, or the original Druid.
Logrik had a friend who was a Druid, and knew some of the lore, but none of the lore ever suggested their origins to belong to a Dragon as far as he knew. Nimon was friendly enough, but told Logrik that he knew why he had come, and Nimon would need to learn for itself if Logrik was worthy of being called “King” in the Human-tongue. Logrik told the creature, he was worthy, and he would answer, and solve any riddles this ancient one had for him. The Dragon smirked, or what could only be what a Dragon may do to make a smirk, and Logrik felt he should hold his ears again, excepting another deafening bout of laughter.
Nimon seemed bemused by the story Logrik wove about the war that has come to his kingdom. Nimon told Logrik that war was the way of the Orc, and that his plight is one of countless others. Nimon saw the first war, an ancient war that shattered the world, and Nimon saw all of the wars since. Logrik began pleading with Nimon to see that he was worthy, and that the cause, his cause was a worthy one. In the end, Nimon said he would offer no aid, and he would return to his dream slumber once more to watch the world as it began it’s shift.
Logrik demanded some kind of aid, and event drew his greataxe, Roar, which was shaped with the head of a Dragon, and proceeded to strike the beast. Nimon only laughed once more, a deafening sound that made Logrik drop his axe with a clatter that was lost in the cacophony of laughter. Nimon said he would offer a boon to the young king, and proceeded to call forth, and crystals began falling from the ceiling, and the members of Logrik’s band came crashing, but unharmed to the floor. Nimon said he would create a portal to a lost fortress with a powerful artifact buried within that could aid the young king.
After traversing the portal, the band found themselves in a jungle, the ruins around them looked ancient, and long lost, and forgotten. But something about the ruins told them they were lost for a reason. Some curse, or evil still filled the air, and some unnatural heat filled the air around them. As they began traversing the ruins, they found an ancient temple leading underground. All of what might have once been useful to them was ruined, and broken, like the ruins around them, but something told them, that there was still a presence here, it was not fully abandoned.
As they headed deeper underground, the heat became more intense, as if they were heading into hell itself. As the group traveled further, they came to realize they were actually within a volcano. The deeper they went, the more dangerous, and damaging the heat became. Eventually, the black forms of creatures long since burnt, and dead began to appear around the temple ruins, as if the volcano had once erupted. The unusual clumps, and stone walls were a dead give away that the tunnel they now traversed were once lava filled.
Upon entering a massive chamber, they came to understand that this temple was build within the volcano, and that they were now standing on the hardening inner surface. Areas within the chamber were brilliant bright red, and surely deadly to approach, while others like the ground they now stood were cool enough to walk on without falling through the ground to their deaths. That is when they saw it, on the far end of the chamber, some object shimmered catching the band’s attention. It looked like a large emerald, probably a foot in circumference, and glowing rather intensely, but it was a putrid green glow.
Upon navigating the chamber to the unusual gemstone, they saw it was sitting upon a large hardened magma-stone throne, and within the grasp of a skeletal figure adorned in ornate armor. Logrik approached the gem, reaching his hand out to grasp it, when suddenly the entire volcano shook, not entirely as dormant as first thought. They were at least a thousand feet down within the volcano now, and they could not quickly make it to the surface if the volcano erupted.
To make matters worse, suddenly the head of the skeletal entity began to turn, and adjusted to look directly at Logrik as if it were staring at him. Logrik shuttered at the sight, noticeably, and reached to grasp the gemstone, when the hand of the skeletal entity pulled the gemstone away from his reach, and the cracking of joints could be heard as the entity began to shift, and stand. The death knight let out a wail so frightening it could have killed most where they stood.
As the band began to battle with the skeletal entity, they could feel the volcano shifting, and the ground beneath them was not entirely stable. Pockets of lava began erupting around them, and the ground collapsed in different areas around them. It was luck more than anything that kept the party from plummeting to their deaths, but in the end, the skeletal entity collapsed, and the suit of armor, powerfully enchanted began to shift, glow, and react to the eery green glow. Logrik put the armor, and gemstone alike within his portable hole, and the band raced out of the chamber as more, and more of the ground began to collapse, and lava erupted all around them. As they raced their way out of the chamber, they soon became aware that the tunnel was growing intensely warm.
As they raced through the chamber, the lava also began rushing up the tunnel behind them. It soon became a race to the surface, and they were quickly losing it. Luckily, the tunnel was one of twists, and turns, and they could traverse those turns much better than the lava, which had to fill the area before continuing to elevate further. Eventually, a very battered, bruised, and well-cooked band rushed out of the tunnel seeing a new, and frightening sight. A river of lava could be noticeably seen about a hundred feet from their location, and cutting off the path in that direction.
The band had to move quickly, or die, as they traveled along the only route that presented itself to them, and hopefully one that would not kill them in the process. It was then that the ground began to shake, and shift so violently, the band fell over, and even Logrik had to struggle to gain any kind of footing. The temple behind them was collapsing into the volcano, and soon with it all of the ruins around them they saw. The entire area around them began shifting towards the volcano, and more, and more rivers of lava began blocking their path.
It was then when the band was entirely surrounded that a miracle happened. Out of no where a fleet of giant flying eagles appeared in view flying towards the ruins. The garbs of the men, and women flying the eagles appeared to be simple, and natural, almost Druidic in appearance. From Logrik’s knowledge of such things from his friend, he knew that not all Druids were friendly, but he had no other choice but to call out, and seek aid from the newcomers. As it turns out, they landed nearby, and they didn’t appear Human at all, but remarkably, they were Elven, a race all but lost to the knowledge of Everess, and the Elves had not been seen in many centuries.
The Elves rescued the party, but several of them looked at the band suspiciously, and even scowling angrily. When they finally landed, about 10 miles, and within sight of the volcano, within a small Elven village, they were not openly welcomed. The band was ushered into the village, and brought into what could only be seen as a prison, large magically enchanted ironwood vine structures handing from a tree is where they were brought, and left. However, they were up some fifty feet or more above the ground, none of the Elves seemed to give them any attention, not even their guards standing twenty feet away on the only platform nearby. They lazily swayed in the breeze for several hours before an elderly-looking Elf appeared to be approaching the guards, and saying something in a language none of the band could understand.
It was then that one of the guards grasped a long hooked pole, and pulled on the ironwood cage, bringing the party to the platform, but not directly nearby the elderly Elf. The band was immediately surrounded once more, and helped out of the cage one by one. It was then in perfect common, the elderly Elf told the guards to escort them to his abode, and said they were not to be mistreated, and the Elf simply walked away after that, going to some unknown destination.
It was then the band was brought to a rather large tower build into, and around a rock wall. It had a natural beauty about it, and the tower seemed almost like it had been there for longer than most could count. The tower was warm, welcomingly so, without drafts, or even a furnace or wood-stove. Within the tower was what looked like layered rooms stacked around, and within a central staircase, which was the main focus of the chamber, outside of the myriad smells, and colors within the tower itself. The scents of flowers, and spices could be smelled heavily within this chamber.
There were several other Elves within the Tower, by the looks of it, they were housekeepers, and the guards quickly yelled for them in their language to begone, and sat the band around a large stone table, which they had to sit or kneel to properly sit at. A short while later, one of the housekeepers, a female, and rather shy Elf came out with a jug of some strange dark liquid, and a handful of small green leaf-cups, and began to talk to one of the guards, who was arguing with her momentarily. Eventually the guard lost his bluster, and the band was served some tea, and a light meal of thin bread, green herbs, and berries.
Shortly after the band finished their filling meal, the same elderly Elf came barging through the main door of the tower, startling the guards nearby. He motioned for the guards to stand down when he tried approaching the band, and then started conversing with each of the band one at a time, even approaching to be more polite. When the elder finally approached Logrik, he had much to say, and discuss with the elder at length, and the elder seemed all to happy to oblige.
That is when they learned that this clan of Elves, the Dunthorine as they called themselves, were the last, or said they were the last of their kind, only a few hundred strong. Many of the guards glared at the elder when he mentioned this point, but he motioned for them to be quiet once more, and Logrik began telling the story of how the party arrived in this village in the middle of no where. The elder clearly thought it was no coincidence.
Delrassa, as the elder called himself said he knew of the great Nimondrelnorthanarvel, and was awaiting such a catastrophic prophecy to appear for many years, a century, and longer even. He said that a band of wary Humans would appear from thin air, and the volcano would then erupt, and with it the symbol of change, and with change, the downfall of the Orc. The elder then went into an elaborate story of a dragon, a great red Dragon who was going to end the world if not all the races joined against it, and destroy it.
Logrik was amazed that Delrassa knew so much about his plight, and happily formed an alliance with the Elven village, and the last of the Elves. The band was then granted supplies for the journey ahead, and the Elves soared on eagles, and headed east, which lead to familiar shores, and Everess. Logrik was finally heading home, and probably to a greater war then he had ever seen.
Shortly after arriving back at his army, he sent emissaries north to the Dwarves, and south to the Centaurs for aid. It sadly was declined as both races were actively engaged in battles of their own against the Orcs, and they instead requested aid. So Logrik had to decide which group he would aid, and in the end, he sent his army south to the Centaurs, and went north with the Elves to aid the Dwarves.
It proved a hopeful tactic, as the Dwarves were more amazed then hateful of the Elves, which could not be said the same of the Centaurs who would probably attack them outright. The Dwarves welcomed the aid of King Logrik, and with the help of nearly a thousand Dwarves, the Elves, and the aid of Logrik’s band, they managed to turn the tide of the Orcs in their favor. However, it was there within the Dwarven city of Forstholme that Lord Thrax once again showed himself, and attacked Logrik’s band, and killed hundreds of Dwarves & Elves.
Lord Thrax, however, did not fight fairly, and attacked from on high, and cast powerful magics that decimated buildings, and numbers alike. It was then that Logrik drew out the orb he had found, it was an evil item, but a tool they desperately needed. But Logrik had no idea what forces he was about to disturb. Shortly thereafter, a legion of dead began to rise from the remains of those who had perished, and they began marching towards Logrik, but did not defend themselves when struck down by Dwarven, Elven, and Human hand alike, they simply kept marching, and stopped before Logrik, motionless as he held the orb.
This was not lost on Lord Thrax, of course, and when he saw this sight he let out a terrible roar, and proceeded to fly away immediately to the south west. The army of the dead followed Logrik’s every command, and every number of Orc that died, the dead rose against them once more. Soon the Dwarves, and Elves were cheering, though a little nervously. Both leaders of the Dwarves, and Elves demanded what, or where Logrik had come across such a powerful artifact. Delrassa said he knew of the Orb of the Dead, but had no idea how powerful it truly was until now.
Delrassa said it should be hidden away so Lord Thrax can’t find it, lost again to the ages, for none should hold such power. The Dwarven King Bruthrig Hammer-hand readily agreed. Logrik, and his band, however, knew not how to hide such an artifact, and he said we should return to the central staging area, and await his armies return. It was then, shortly after, a combined alliance of Centaur, Dwarf, Elf, and Human began making plans to finally stop Lord Thrax once, and for all. However, they soon learned it would not be so easily accomplished.
It was then, weeks later, the eve before Logrik had staged the next stage in their battle, that an army of Undead attacked them. These were not simple, mindless Undead like the ones the Orb could command, but powerful, thinking beings of thousands strong. The Undead army was lead by a powerful Lich under the command of Lord Thrax, and unknown to the band, the Lich had been searching for centuries for the Orb of the Dead, and it would not stop until it had it, and Lord Thrax knew this, and staged the entire ambush.
As the battle waged on, Logrik’s forces were winning out against the Undead, as their numbers didn’t increase, but neither did Logrik use the Orb of the Dead on the members of the alliance, as it was too horrible an act to do. In the end, Logrik thought the battle won, except for when his band were ambushed by this Lich general Boneripper the Mageless, and Lord Thrax in humanoid form together. As well as they fought, Logrik was their primary target, and was summarily beaten, but the band survived, although Logrik now walked with a limp, and the band lost control of the Orb of the Dead, as there was little that could be done about it. In the end, the battle was a terrible defeat, hundreds were lost, and they lost a powerful artifact.
It was then that the wise sage of the diamond desert came before Logrik, and his band with grave news. Lord Thrax was seeking a powerful item, a staff of destruction, an ancient, and powerful artifact that could, in Lord Thrax’s hands wipe out the alliance single-handily. That did not seem promising at all, so when the wise sage told the band they needed to travel deep in the wastes, to a lost, and ancient temple some days journey from their location, it was Agron Destaroy whom offered to join them, and offered to fly the band to this temple. So the wise sage, Agron, and Logrik’s band set off to stop Lord Thrax from gaining this potentially unstoppable artifact.
Upon arrival to this ancient, and forgotten temple, they knew then they might already be too late. Outside of the temple stood a legion of Undead waiting for them. Their numbers were so numerous, and condensed, that it may not even be possible to enter the temple. However, the wise sage said he could make a way, and told the party to protect him while he prepares a spell. No easy task with a legion of Undead shambling towards the party, and a dozen powerful Death Knights leading them like leashed hounds.
After nearly ten minutes of the sage chanting his spell, and the battle unfolding poorly, not in the parties favor, the spell was completed. A brilliant light erupted from the sages hand, and began firing blasts of brilliant light out towards the Undead nearby. Soon hundreds, thousands of beams of light shot out from the sage’s hand, and soon the numbers of the undead greatly diminished. All that remained in the end was a handful of minor Undead, and the dozen Death Knights in the back by the doors. The minor undead were summarily cut down, but the Death Knights were powerful, heavily enchanted, and armored, no easy combatants.
In the end, Logrik, and his party opened the ancient doors of the temple, and raced through it’s halls towards some unknown destination. Logrik knew he might be walking to his doom, but he always knew that they needed to stop Lord Thrax, and this Boneripper the Mageless. As they traversed the complex, they eventually saw a brilliant, glowing red light shining through from under the door to the next chamber, and the sage said that beyond the door lies great evil, and warned the party to let them check the door for possible runes, or wards which are won’t to be on such doors.
Upon entry to this evil-filled chamber, it was almost pitch black, save a glowing red light that sent pillars of light throughout the chamber. Upon further notice, this red light was shaped like a skull. A hideous laughter could then be heard, and the shape of a haggered man could be seen outlined behind the red skull. Boneripper the Mageless would be no easy opponent, especially when he pulled forth a green glowing gemstone, and placed the rather large gemstone into the top of the red glowing skull, and suddenly the chamber began to shake, and the light was now black, blacker then the darkness around them filling the chamber.
It was actually wrapping Boneripper the Mageless in a thick cloak of darkness like a cloud. All of the torches the party had suddenly went out, and the sage simply said the party had better leave through the forward exit, and leave this entity to his more experienced skills, and find Lord Thrax before he obtains the staff of destruction.
Boneripper laughed at this, or what could only be the sound of laughter such a strange Undead creature could make. It sounded more like bones cracking, and snapping than actual laughter. However, Boneripper did not stop the rest of the party from moving ahead, and it’s attention turned towards the powerful sage before it. The explosions of some unknown spell could then be heard from behind them as the party went forward, and the doors collapsed behind them, sealing them within the chamber, maybe permanently.
As the party continued in near complete darkness, they could then hear the sound of raw power, or energy erupting in front of them. The hum of ancient, and powerful magic could be heard ahead. As the party entered the next chamber, a sight opened before them they had never seen before. A powerful blue barrier filled half of the chamber, and beyond a brilliant glow blocking view, and closer, unfortunately was Lord Thrax in full Dragon form with it’s back turned from the party trying in vein to force the ancient barrier open.
Lord Thrax was in no means interested in conversing with the party, and a great battle ensued, one which Logrik wasn’t sure he would come out of unscathed, if at all. The Dragon roared, and started off the fight with it’s killing breath weapon, as it both flew, and charged at the party. As battle ensued, the eruptions of more magic from above the chamber began sending debris, and large falling rocks clattering to the ground at random points. This battle would not be easy at all.
In the end, Lord Thrax lay dying on the ground, bloody, and broken. Logrik limping, and the party bleeding, hurt, and dying around him. Logrik, though, he knew he would live, and continue to fight against evil. For now though, the 5th War had ended, but Orcs, and other evils will continue to rise, and heroes will continue to rise to meet their challenge. In the end, it was the persistence of man that stopped something greater than itself.