Morning, Kelehess 1st - Night, Kelehess 3rd (5 total days survived)
Breakfast The Hand of Doom escorted their guests down a great hall and into an open quarter with several offshoots, to a long table with a great map of the empire riddled with strategic markings and pins. There they all sat, scions and commanders, with many more dark races and drow lingering around them. It seemed for every one the group killed, three took their place, and more passed in and out of a far, dark passage. Just how big was this organization? Just what was its true purposes?
Emaciated servants, pale and sickly, carried huge trays of food, some laden with surface delicacies and others with Underdark delicacies, to the table. Their heads were entirely covered by black, mesh bags, giving them a disturbing quality. None ever spoke, and often winced.
Situated, Hulda happened to match glances with the orc commander Mazdur. Red eyes met blue as they fought for visual dominance, but Hulda soon shied away, suddenly and uncomfortably reminded that she was just a girl, despite all she'd been through in sixteen years and two days.
No Dildos on the Table, Please Giers made an off comment that provoked Lhekrina into a show of her sexual deviancy, and she teased the ethrey with her dildo rod. Kaylan, quite offended, made her feelings known, at which point the dark elf plopped the glass penis between the cleric and paladin and assured the young half-elf that she would gladly teach her how to use it as readily as she would teach Giers.
Haxlound, the hob commander, insisted they return to more important matters.
Discussing the Accord Lhekrina and Haxlound discussed the accord, or rather dictated it to the scions. The group would remain in The Screaming Caves for one week, which brought more than a few protests. During that time the identities of Isabella and Takeshi would be varified. If they proved true, The Hand would personally escort everyone home via the Underdark, in return for secret alliances with Saspien and Atha.
Little Miss Diplomat Isabella, sensing what a bad situation they were in, truly a lose/lose, protested several times. Her outcries fell on deaf ears, leaving her frustrated and somewhat depressed. She knew well enough that when her identity was proven, she could just as easily be used as an expensive ransom than an "ally". In fact she suspected the former and drowned her sorrows in dark elven wine.
Attempted Rape As conversation continued, the bugbear commander began hitting on Takeshi beside her. She wouldn't take the hints (his horrified expressions) and moved with increasing insistence, until which point Arshagouhl tore off her top leathers and lunged for him. He managed an impressive aerial maneuver to avoid her and the bugbear tackled Mazdur instead. The two fell to the ground in a a tussel.
Eating Contest In the same moment, tensions snapped between Hulda and the ogre commander Batenhk, who'd both been systematically clearing every edible item off the table. He reached for the pheasant, which was in the half-giant's hands, and it was on. The two of them leaped onto the table and began shoving everything they could down their throats. The ogre eventually won out, though, having eaten plates, goblets, and even a leg of the table itself.
Haxlound's Ultimatum The hob laid down very clear limits to where the group could go, a tight reign excluding the South Wing and of course the stairs and outside. They were also forbidden to explore the Underdark, though it would have been a wonder that the group would delve into it for "fun". They soon found they weren't much welcomed in The North Wing, either, as the general troops didn't like the scions much at all.
Drow Quarters Lhekrina offered the group her drow's private chambers, bringing a multitude of hushed outcries from the dark elves, who now were forced to live in the smelly, soiled barracks and use the same latrines ogres and bugbears used. One drow male spoke up incredulously, a prince of the sixth house so he said, and Lhekrina snapped. She tore up and lashed him with her scourge, scarring his previously perfect face. He slinked back into the arms of his shadowy counterparts and stalked off.
Lhekrina in the lead, she took the group to their rooms, truly the nicest room in all The Screaming Caves. Well-furnished with expensive furniture, bedded with fine linens, sporting a claw-foot table and chairs, two dressers and even a man-sized mirror, it wasn't entirely terrible... but there were no windows. In fact, it was very obvious they were deep underground, a sensation of entombment that would quicklt wear on the group.
Tuckered-Out Takeshi Takeshi was bidden to remain with Lhekrina, where he initiated in aggressive negotiations, in part feeling responsible for the group's current situation but knowing had he not made a deal they'd be dead. Every night for three days he met with the drow commander, fighting to somehow release the others from the accord and burden himself with whatever else she desired.
Every night he would come back late, utterly exhausted, and pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Rumors of what he might be doing spread not just within the group...
Day One Day one was a general settling in, Isabella's hangover, some games of chance on the part of the siblings and Portia's initial scout of the accessible area. Not even twenty-four hours and half the group was squirming from the lack of sunlight, fresh air and sky. Much time was spent in their borrowed room, not really feeling safe anywhere else.
Passage into the Underdark The deep, dark passage in the upper corner of the command post was soon revealed to be a gate into The Underdark itself, which The Hand of Doom used as their secret highway across the hostile imperial region. Troops of The Hand's five races (orc, hob, bugbear, ogre and drow) passed in and out every few hours, calling into question just how large the organization was and where exactly the known commanders ranked in the hierarchy.
Screaming The South Wing was the origin for much screaming, muted explosions, surging energy and even roars. A heavy contingent of hobgoblins always guarded the wing's entrance, suffering none to pass. Haxlound often passed in and out, calling it his domain and warning the scions to stay out. No doubt something diabolical went on within.
Day Two By the second day, Kaylan and especially Giers were going stir crazy. Darkness and stone seemed to surround them, squeeze them even, and even Isabella, a daughter of Saspien, felt a gloom settle over her. The boggart seemed at home enough, though, and the half-giant didn't complain much either.
The Mystery Door Portia sneaked often through the compound, following Lhekrina when she could. She found the drow commander often visited a magically-sealed door behind crates that could only be opened by a special key looking like a fingerbone. Though her thieving skills were ample, Portia had to regroup and form a plan for pickpocketing it, as Lhekrina kept the key safe in her nethers.
Hulda's New Maul Hulda began making nice with a certain ogre and his crew of bugbear and orc mates, who played bones every night. Wanting to trade out her makeshift club for something nicer, Hulda joined in, testing her strength and her dice hand. Though she failed to claim anything the first night in the caves, on the second her jotun heritage earned her a Maul. Little did she know how soon she'd have to use it.
Day Three The third day, the group at its lowest morale yet, and The Hand perhaps at its highest, it started much the same. However many troops funneled down through the Underdark Gate, called away for something hushed and barely spoken of. With a skeleton crew and the commanders, who seemed bound to run this installation, two other guests decided to boldly emerge.
The Purples! The two purple dragon wyrmlings flew like lion-wraiths through the shadows and demanded audience with Lhekrina. They shouted and roared much in draconic, lost to the group but undoubtedly involving them as the male dragon often nodded and snarled their way. Lhekrina finally came out to see what the commotion was, where upon there was a tense argument. The drow commander used a red gem held over her lips like a translator when speaking with the wyrmlings, but words didn't get very far.
Then the male turned and demanded one of the scions be sacrificed, which really grated on Isabella. She tried to initiate conversation of any substance, but the dragons seemed to treat her as if a toddler were attempting to interject on an adult conversation. Lhekrina did her best explaining the serendipitous find the two had made when luring their next round of play things, but neither dragon wanted to give the group up.
An argument of royalty sprung up, in which both reminded the drow that they too were royalty and that while Atha and Saspien might be nice wishful allies, they represented the very real possibility of alliance with their parents. The female was especially biting when at last she left, her brother tow, knowing she had the advantage and confirming without much doubt that Lhekrina was not the head hauncho of the Hand, just this installation.
While The Children Slept That night, everyone but Takeshi in their beds, the two wyrmlings and the scar-faced drow slipped into the Drow Quarters looking to kill the group. Thankfully Portia's over-sized ears picked up the suspicious creeping. She screamed at the top of her lungs, waking the group before they were cast into sleeps eternal. A fight was on!
Deadly Down Portia, deadly with any object, took her pillow and proceeded to beat the living shit out of the drow monk, smacking him into bedposts, walls and the floor, and nearly slaying him singlehandedly.
Zulthanza and Marzonn The true power houses of the attack were the dragons, Zulthanza the female and Marzonn the male. Zulthanza blew her purple-haze of psychic breath, dazing Hulda before turning her against Giers in an irresistable moment of betrayal. This fueled Giers rage, but the dragons were quick, harty, and strategic. After Marzonn blew his breath, the group dazed, weakened and wondering whether or not they could win this, thoughts turned to a tactical retreat. Isabella thought to send them into comas and allow a quick dealing with the trio, but though each succumbed, it was but for seconds before they leaped back up, and so began the scions' slow downfall...
Brood of Taras! Giers made one last stab before rushing to the door, naming the wyrmlings as cursed brood of Taras. Marzonn laughed, turning to his sister and in a wicked sneer, "He guessed it, dear sister."
It was mentioned a little later that their mother was known as Ereshkelite.
Tactical Retreat And so the get of Matthias were renewed in vigor, but after Zulthanza felled Hulda once, then nearly did Giers, and Marzonn nearly Isabella, the group knew to stay was suicide. They fled down the same secret passage the trio took. It was dangerously pitch black, but Giers, then Hulda, then the rest fled down its length, anything better than jaws, claws and psychic attacks.
Scuffle Above, Mushrooms Below Just as Isabella entered the passage last, a huge explosion resounded upstairs in the Drow Quarters and elven voices mixed with draconic shouts. Lhekrina had discovered what the wyrmlings had done and no doubt there would be hell to pay. As the initial sounds of a fight crashed above, Giers cracked a sunrod and jolted.
The entire group was standing on a narrow bridge suspended a hundred feet above a giant, pale mushroom forest that glowed phosphorescent blues and greens. The bridge extended to another opening across the way and also split into a web-like network of stony ledges, some moving off into other caverns, some back up to parts of The Screaming Caves.
Exhausted and injured, the group took a short rest on the precarious ledge, planning their next moves.
Experience: 200 each (2018 thus far)
Loot: Maul (Hulda), Bottle of Drow Wine (Isabella), A hairbrush-bloody pillow-bed knob-crate hook-and 12 nails (Portia), 3 day's fresh food and water (Everyone)
Money: (330gp, 120sp total): 55gp, 20sp each; +12 gp (Giers); -3 gp (Hulda) NPCs: Haxlound, Hob Commander Arshagouhl, Bugbear Commander Boss Batenhk, Ogre Commander Mazdur, Orc Commander Zulthanza, Daughter of Taras Marzonn, Son of Taras Scarred Drow Monk, [name unknown]
Monsters: Drow Monk,Purple Dragon Wyrmlings
Places: Command Post, Drow Quarters, Secret Passage (Underdark)
Morning, Kelehess 1st The North Wing Exiting the Torture Chamber, Takeshi went ahead and did a little scouting, finding signs of mass dark races having used and still using the rooms down this large hall, but he took a little too long and curiosity and concern prompted some of the group to follow after. That's when they caught a strange sound...
Takeshi returned and urged they all leave, but was unheeded.
The Storeroom Having followed the muted commotion to a door, Isabella grew the balls to open it, revealing a narrow storage space stacked with crates. The noises of slobbering, chomping and scarfing were louder than ever, discarded torches illuminating a large, hunched back behind the crates off and ahead. Some of the group dared enter, but as Takeshi tried to pull them back, he knocked into a crate tower and toppled it with a great crash.
Ogre Face Off Two massive ogres with sausage links dangling from their bulging cheeks blinked, caught eating the supplies, though their eyes widened wider to find not their dark race comrades but a strange mix-race group.
At that point some negotiation was attempted by Giers and Hulda, but even as the paladin tried and pull Kaylan and Isabella back out of the room, the wizard bested him (and even tripped him). The spunk was like seasoning shaken over the girl and one of the ogres got that look in his eye, the look of insatiable hunger. Giers offered money, but the brutes responded rather flatly, "We'll take it off your corpses."
Hungry, Hungry Ogres One ogre took a position behind a door jamb to throw javelins with lethal accuracy, while another tipped a crate tower over Hulda and Isabella and rushed in for some devastating blows with his great club. With each ogre even larger than Hulda, and wider still, it would prove to be a good fight.
Death by Pumpkin Near the end, the brute wielding his club in the forefront was taken out. Portia, having climbed some crates for a superior vantage took a pumpkin from a shattered box and threw it with her boggart finesse. It struck the ogre in such a way that it broke his neck. Death by fruit.
Trapped At that point the ranger had vanished, and there wasn't much time to look for him. Banging from the storage room's side door and yelling in goblin signaled more enemies were coming. The javelin ogre's heavy corpse blocked the door from opening, but soon the banging stopped.
Quick as a half-giant could, Hulda dragged the corpse over to the hall door, which Giers had slammed shut. Not a moment too soon, as enemies tried to break through, again stopped by the incredible bulk of ogre dead weight. Effectively trapped, Hulda led the way through the side door hoping for a way out.
The Barracks The scions emptied into a large room filled with beds and small campfires. A massive bugbear slept hugging a great morningstar, while an ogre sat off the corner slowly roasting a twice-basted peasant boy on a spit. For the moment the group was unnoticed, until a hobgoblin warcaster charged back into the barracks from the hall beyond, one of the enemies that banged on the door.
Portia's Ruse In this do or die moment, the boggart stepped forward, working a quick lie into a life-saving ruse. She claimed the group was mercenaries hired to kick them into shape, and if they knew what was good for them they'd relax or end up like those two pigs in the storage room. The hob, after a moment's consideration, looked the half-goblin over and nodded.
Another hob rushed in about ready to fight, but the warcaster assured him the scions were mercenaries hired by Lhekrina. Then three orcs rushed in, now bringing the barrack's enemy total to nerve-wracking numbers.
Sausage Knockout Portia gave her same explanation to the veteran orc, looking like one big scar, who got in Portia's grill and called her out. In a truly legendary twist of sausage links, she strangle-wrapped the orc and took him down. The monster hit his head off the stone floor so hard he blacked out. The other orcs looked at Portia with small amazement and left her be from then on, the scions quite impressed themselves.
The Guard Room The rogue led the scions out and into the North Wing once more, knowing her ruse was like a sinking life raft, and together they made for the main line and the stairs, hoping Erig, Grenwigne and Takeshi had made it out already. But they found new enemies waiting for them, four drow women in cloth-of-midnight shawls each toting a leather leash attatched to a hulking orc berserker.
Surprise Attack They attempted to sneak passed the five enemies, but Kaylan was hardly used to such constant stealth and was detected. However before the drow could attack, the rest of the group leaped from the shadows and dug in with arcane and martial punishment the likes of which quickly crippled the guard room to bloody messes.
Ladies of Shadows The drow women were masters of shadows and stabbing, though, and did manage to put up vicious fights as they cartwheeled through darkness and planted blades in all sorts of painful, vital places like Giers' brainstem and Hulda's gut. Yet the group looked about ready to prevail, only two drow left before the great stone door at the main line's terminus ground open.
The Hand of Doom A contingent of dark races and drow, each led by a commander that looked tougher, more-seasoned and better equipped surrounded the scions. At their head was a drow woman of unparallel beauty, in tight, skimpy bondage that looked painful. On one hip she wore a scourge, and on the other a glass dildo.
Takeshi stepped out from behind her and began explaining a deal he'd made involving safe passage for promises of aid...
The Accord And so Takeshi had made an uncertain treaty with The Hand of Doom, for better or for ill. The group passed through the great stone door and into the command hub. Most the group was scared, or at the very least rattled, and rightly so...
Places: North Wing, Store Room, Barracks, Main Line, Command Post
Ogres: Ogres are the Dark Race of Gluttony, tremendous creatures like mounds of flesh ten feet tall, bulging with fat and supported by iron muscle beneath. Hirsute, with pinched faces and almond eyes floating in fat, two or three-chinned heads, ogres often stylize long waxed strand mustaches and beards. They favor pelts and furs of things they've killed and not eaten whole, hauberks and lamellar armor, iron spiked helms and an array of heavy melee and short ranged weapons.
They live to eat, fight and fuck. They've no shame and if left to their own devices lay waste to whatever lands they claim, moving on like a herd of rampant beasts when the resources dry up. As such, ogres are nomadic, feared, and driven out or exterminated if their chosen realm can muster such opposition. Material gain and earthly satisfaction are their code of conduct, also known as Yagsa and which includes a surprisingly intricate philosophy of getting the most out of life. Ogres claim everything that catches their fancy and exercise all the brute savagery necessary to secure it. They aren't the most intelligent race, certainly not the most eloquent, but they are brutally clever when it comes to killing and taking.
Ogre males are the dominant gender, the women relegated to birthing and guarding the young until they're old enough to kill or mate. Ogres move in clans throughout Atha, Myaton and isolated mountain chains like the Sarsark. If ogres manage to collect in large enough numbers, hordes can be formed consisting of multiple clans and kinged by a Khan. That is often every ogre's dream.
Clans and hordes are known to, on occasion, tame beasts capable of bearing them, rhinoceros, pachyderms and the like. Such juggernauts are some of the most feared troops an army employing Dark Races can manufacture.
Hobgoblins: The Dark Race of Pride, hobgoblins are cruel, arrogant and militaristic to the point of tyrannical. Hatemongers all, they're built like men, with warty, rust-colored skin and goblins' pointed ears and scrunched faces. They're known to favor a wide array of weapons and armor, often adopting the materials of nearby humans for the ease of acquiring weapons, armor and supplies. It is also relatively easy for a hobgoblin to appear as a man from a distance, especially under a cloak or in full armor, and they use this tactic to its full effect.
Intelligent and strategic, capable of magic but excelling at martial endeavors, their wicked race falls into strict castes that form fearsome legions. If possible, these legions will collect into one great host, ever out to gain land and slaves. Several times throughout history it seemed these great armies were on the verge of carving an empire, only to crumble under the weight of their own egos, for Pride is the most destructive sin of all.
Male and female are treated as equals, for ultimately treachery and cunning determine hobgoblin advancement. To hobgoblins, they are already an empire-in-waiting, this intangible philosophy-place sometimes referred to as Skeshera the Stoneless Kingdom. Each is a soldier of this territory-to-be, and as such every tribe or clan of them is organized and labeled as a military unit. Children are called grunts, young adults recruits, and so on up the military ladder. Depending on the clan size, a captain might rule, or a lieutenant or a sergeant, or even a general if the numbers deserve his or her title.
Though they're known to work with other Dark Races, hobgoblins consider themselves without equals. Though they might tolerate the harassment of physical superiors like orcs or mental superiors like drow, there is always a hushed understanding hobgoblins are simply waiting out the inevitable rise of their people. And if they could but achieve half their ambitions, perhaps they really would prove masters of their own empire.
Orcs: The Dark Race of Wrath, Sons of Ire, orcs are blackish-green monsters standing level with men, rippled with muscle and flaked with dry, crocodilian skin. Their features are primal, almost reptilian, including overdeveloped jaws capable of crushing bones, claw-like appendages and threatening red eyes.
Orcs yearn for destruction above all other things. This racial bloodlust was once tempered by dark faith and devil worship, but every generation is wilder, more terrible, and if such an evil race could be labeled lost, then orcs have truly lost their way. They once held mighty cities, the last of which was Mongrel not twenty years passed, a time when orcs collected in great military hosts reflective of hobgoblins today, but orcish savagery has slipped into blind madness, their wrath turned to uncontrolled and unfocused rage. They've de-evolved, to the point some of the latest orc generations can no longer speak at all beyond primal grunts and growls. Yet for all this shrinking of civilization, their animosity has grown, and their tenacious strength with it.
They're cruel creatures, cold and passionless despite their unprovoked anger, just as liable to use one of their infants as a grapeshot for ammunition in their war slings. And with their last city and tribal fracture, their ability to craft has deterioriated into only the most primitive weapons and armor. The average orc scavenges what he cannot make, which is almost everything. Blood is always spilled in the effort.
Orcs no longer have any great ambitions. Their wrath once was precise and purposeful, channeled toward the destruction of men and the reclaiming of their ancestral lands taken from them in The Purge. Now they act entirely on the promise of war, blood, death and glory. Orcs once commanded scores of goblinoid fodder for their great hordes, but now their revenge has been lost to brute carnage and they cannot even command themselves. This leaves them in a dangerous position, powerful but weak-willed, capable of being used for any number of ends.
Bugbears: The Dark Race of Lust, bugbears are despicable creatures, born with a bottomless obsession for carnal pleasure. Nothing and no one is safe from their sexual appetites, this fixation on sensation warping their animal instincts. While drow, sensory-depraved for thousands of years and driven mad in soundless dark to become the dominatrix and sadist torturer-murderers they are, bugbears were bad from the start. They resembled hobgoblins once, though perhaps a larger variety, but unnatural relations with bears, dogs, sea lions, walruses and pandas across the greater stretch of the old world (Pangeal) for a great stretch of years permanently tainted them as caniformia. They stand seven feet tall, sometimes taller, immensely broad and strong as bears. Their faces are animalistic, with muzzles and snouts instead of lips and noses, and their ears are at the top of their head, rounded like their beastly lineage. Their coats ranges from tawny to black and they can, on occasion, even more-greatly resemble their abominable beast ancestors and possess particular panda coloring, walrus tusks, sea lion whiskers, or a variety of telling features.
Bugbears are semi-nomadic, keeping summer and winter dens. In summer they usually keep near coasts or water, in winter further inland and underground, often not as eager to go on raids. However the more sinister underlie is that moving around alot widens the pool of available victims, everything from livestock to kidnapped travellers, peasants to priests, who are dragged down into the dens and made toys and pleasure objects for grizzly orgies. Because of the awesome strength of bugbears, their toys quickly wear out and break.
Sex is the means to power in bugbear society, determining den leaders and clan chiefs. However sex appeal is not based on physical traits like it would be for any other animal. Bugbears are terribly ugly, even to each other, a backwards racial element that should have led to extinction but for the fact every bugbear is a complusive nymphomaniac. They often mate with trees and holes, so of course they would mate with each other. The bugbear best at coitus earns him or herself the true power of the den, for society revolves around sex and sex revolves around them, the best fucker. Their whim is followed and their persons pampered, that is until someone proves better than them. Then society degenerates into a bloody deathmatch, though usually other bugbears will rush to the defense of the best for obvious reasons.
I'm going to try and do a little experimenting with maps. This way after I describe a space you can get some actual logistics out of it, like where things are placed, what are the dimensions, etc etc.
We're going try this a little like Battleship in that I've put numbers and letters into a grid around the map. At the start of combat, I'll state where everyone is along the lines of B6 or K17. Then I'll also place where the enemies are. As you all take your moves, please include what square you land in at the end of your turn. This will perfectly explain whether or not people are flanking, where opportunity attacks are coming from, and so on.
So in anticipation of next sesh, here's the map of the north wing. Familiarize yourself a few moments with the grid system. When eventually you do enter these various rooms, I'll have new maps including predominant room features like pits or furniture or fire. In the future, if I have time I'll design more maps so we can get a more accurate fog of war, but for now just sort of go with the idea you don't know whats beyond the doors hehe.
I have Photoshop and it's very easy to do layers, so if you guys don't mind a little wait between turns, I can refresh the map with tokens of enemies and where you guys are round per round. I know this is a ghetto version of MapTools, but until I figure out port forwarding this will have to do.
I. Foundations There was always Chrysaor, The Nothing, an endless void of black space. Within it churned chaotic dust trails and raw energy. For eons beyond measure it simply was, all-encompassing, all-powerful. Then something happened, a random colliding of key elements which became the first event, bringing time and meaning to an otherwise empty universe. A goddess was born from the roiling powers within Chrysaor, the first star Raya.
Raya possessed a motherly conscience and, finding Chrysaor barren and pointless, decided to fill him. She formed a world and guarded it close, warming and lighting her planetary child as its sun. Upon it she grew forests, dug oceans, sculpted mountains and smoothed plains, but most special of all she nurtured a second being, a divine daughter to inherit this world and share in its beauty. Her name was Lordanna.
For a time mother and daughter walked the world in supreme bliss, but Lordanna had inherited her mother’s sensibilities and found the world strangely empty. She tried her hand at creation and in her experimenting populated the world with all manner of creatures, big and small, weak and strong, the breadth of the animal and insect kingdoms. Her most prized creation, however, were humans. Into them she poured her passion, aspirations, emotion and complexity.
But man was just an animal and struggled with the souls Lordanna had bestowed them. While exemplifying nobility, wisdom, integrity, genius and love, man also reflected hate, greed, fear, anger, and lust. These unbridled human aspects gave rise to other gods. Some were good, like Altan the Lord of Hope, others unpredictable like Storm King Thorm, and some were purely sinister like The Dark Gods.
Man struggled in those days, much like in every age, to come to terms with his conflicting nature. Raya, feeling for her daughter's humans, created a race of teachers epitomizing morality, caring and intellect. She called them elves. Lordanna likewise made a companion race, hoping that through diversity man would find his way. She lay with Altan and bore dwarves, enduring creatures of single-minded determination.
Thus were born the three Prime Races.
II. The First Cycle
The First Age of Spring
For thousands of years the prime races coexisted, settling the vast paradise of the great continent Pangeal. The first half-elves and Halflings were born into the world, strengthening the bonds of community. Many villages formed, as well, which eventually grew into towns. Raya, Lordanna and Altan walked as shepherds among their flocks, while Thorm and The Dark Gods kept more private councils with select members of each race. Some taught wisdom and understanding, others strength and honor, and still others power and indulgence.
The First Age of Summer (The Golden Age)
The elves built the golden metropolis of Glorian in the heart of Pangeal, amidst the grass seas of Saindoron, a sanctum of learning and self-betterment. Elves welcomed men and dwarves to explore the mysteries of the universe. In these brilliant spires and wide amphitheaters the singular most powerful mortal discovery was made, Magic, the ability to bend and shape the forces of the cosmos to mortal whim.
Dwarves feared magic and left the City of Gold, convinced only through Divine Prayer, tempered by the judgment of the gods, should mortals influence the world beyond the ken of brawn and ingenuity. They headed west until they hit The Great Mountains and built the metropolis of Grimtand, a temple-city of divine genius and favored hall of Altan.
Men stayed in Glorian, though, fascinated by this new power. They scrambled to learn its secrets, taught by the High Elves, elves who wielded magic. All elves were natural mages, but not all wished to explore the depths of the arcane, some reflecting the wariness of dwarves. And the greatest of these mages and its first practitioner was Gloriandel, Son of Glorian in the elven tongue, whom the elves soon elevated as king.
The Trinity of Raya, Lordanna and Altan disliked the greater implications of magic, but allowed its continuance for how close it seemed to bring men and elves, its doctrines of discipline and study, and the greater good it enabled. Thorm shunned it entirely, sheltering his followers from what he knew would lead to corruption. The Dark Gods, however, saw magic as the greatest boon that fate could have delivered, the ultimate weapon, leverage to increase their power and standing. They urged men and elves to delve ever deeper into arcane study, for all purposes, including enchantment and destruction.
The Great Schism
The Dark Gods’ influences eventually caused a schism in Glorian and two splinter sects of mages broke away. The first was a matriarchal clan of elves led by Gloriandel’s own daughter, the proud Warlock- Queen Mauve, who headed east and established the second elven city of Alistria. Another clan of elves headed south, led by the renegade King Kelketch, and built the third elven city of Que'tesh (Koo-EH-tesh). Kelketch also brought along half-elves and humans, who founded a smaller city called Maynabad.
The gods sensed their golden time was coming to an end, and so it was…
The First Age of Autumn
While the world was being populated and magic practiced, something triggered in the void. Chrysaor recognized a change within itself. It felt creation roil inside it and was nauseated. This was not how the void was supposed to be. Light and life were corrupting its perfection. Gathering errant energy, dust and vapor, it pained itself by forming a temporary avatar of its will: Laz.
Laz would be its messenger, the destroyer, the ender of life and light and restorer of the old dark. Against Raya's warmth, he would bring intolerable cold, fueled from the black depths of the infinite cosmos.
Laz struck Raya with all his power, but the two proved equal. Though Laz's cold was endless, so too was Raya's love, bolstered by Lordanna and the prime races. Human, elven, and dwarven souls each contained limitless emotion, enough to keep Laz from victory. It also seemed that magic drew from Chrysaor’s raw being, weakening its power around areas of potent use.
The ethos of Laz and Raya were fated from then on to oppose each other for all time, death against life, dark against light, nothing against everything. The seasons formed as a result of this cosmic duel, summer and spring Raya's while autumn and winter Laz's. With Laz also came the night, when the sun succumbed and the good of the world receded.
Death and Immortality Among Laz's curses against existence, the worst was aging and death. Up until his arrival, the prime races were immortal. No race was prepared for their own sort of seasonal change from the spring and summer of youth, the autumn of middle and old age, and the winter of death. Men were completely racked by the attack, their lives shrinking to less than a hundred years. Altan did what he could to shield Grimtand, but still dwarves’ lives shrunk to within five hundred years. Yet with the urging of The Dark Gods, who anticipated Laz’s final caress, the great elven mage-monarchs were able to stave off aging through complex magic rituals involving hundreds and hundreds of High Elves.(Certain lucky humans and half-elves happened to be in Kelketch’s city during their great ritual, effectively making them immortal anomalies amidst their own kind. One such human was a young man named Serren.)
Delilah-in-Shadow
Mocking the blessed relationship of Raya and Lordanna, Laz shaped the powers of the universe into his own daughter. He called her Delilah-in-Shadow, a bloodthirsty deity as strong as Lordanna, who began expanding her power through corruption of the prime races. Delilah-in-Shadow whispered to the weak-willed and maddened, coercing them to perform an act they had no previous concept of: Murder. Delilah built upon the evil of The Dark Gods, inherent in every mortal race, and pushed them even further, pushed them to kill. As they caved into this blackest sin, Delilah grew in strength, and as the obliterated mortal souls were swallowed by the void, so too did Laz.
On-High and Torment Lordanna knew that for existence to endure so too must all the souls of men, elves and dwarves. Her mother was locked in battle for all life, so the goddess took it upon herself to create two new worlds folded over and under Pangeal, the first planes. One she dubbed On-High, an afterlife of light and beauty, to house the souls of the dead. All those who lived by the ideals of good would be admitted and cared for by benevolent custodians known as Angels. However, even the souls of murderers and evil-doers were needed to reinforce existence against Laz’s mammoth power. For those unfortunate souls, Lordanna consulted The Dark Gods in creating another afterlife, the antithesis of On-High, which they gleefully named Torment. She allowed them a temporary use of the Power of Creation to shape tormentors, twisted reflections of mortal races known as Devils.
For a time the universal struggle remained at a stalemate, until Delilah-in-Shadow coerced a god...
The First Age of Winter (The Winters War /The God War)
The Dark God Greed, by nature, thought only of himself and his immediate gain. Delilah came to him under the cover of night, when the power of Raya was weakest, and seduced him with promises of power. If he would side with her in a war against Creation, he would inherit Pangeal and all the wealth there-in. Long had Greed coveted Glorian, The City of Gold, and quickly agreed. But he was no fool and planned to turn on the goddess of murder once the dust settled and claim the universe as his own.
That same night Delilah visited the other Dark Gods, but, despite being incarnations of their vices, each refused her. There was an instinct even more powerful than hate, lust, envy and the rest, one that permeated all life, the will to survive. The Dark Gods understood their continued existence depended entirely on the prime races. Only Greed would be so bold and selfish as to risk it all.
Delilah-in-Shadow was furious at the rebuffs and spirited Greed off Pangeal and into Chrysaor. There she infused him with a portion of its power. Greed adopted a new name, Kultuss, and used his new-found power to create a race as selfish and greedy as he. He called them dragons, each color and kind led by a corresponding Dragonlord. To further add to their mighty army, Delilah wove another portion of Chrysaor's chaotic innards into demons, led by The Seven Demonlords. Laz plucked the corpses of those mortals unlucky enough to have be murdered before On-High and Torment and created the undead. They were led by the Archdead, the first victims twisted into mighty unclean spirits that embodied the aspects of death.
The following night their unholy army attacked. The combined fury of Kultuss's dragons, Delilah's demons and Laz’s undead easily plowed over surprised towns and makeshift defenses. Death tolls from the initial plunge were devastating, with over a quarter of the prime races killed within twelve hours. Only the great cities of Grimtand, Glorian, Alistar, Quetesh and Maynabad endured. With such massive extermination, Laz's strength exploded and an ice age ensued. Laz bent all his effort into snuffing out Raya forever, leaving his allies to land the killing blow on Pangeal. Kultuss and Delilah-in-Shadow reveled in the might of their army, riding the back of the colossal glacier Polarbite from the dark, northern pole into the sunlit south.
Raya's strength wavered and the sun dimmed. Lordanna, fearful and desperate, infused Altan, Thorm, and even The Dark Gods with the Power of Creation. They needed an army to support the mobilizing prime races or face extinction. Thorm crafted the Jotun, larger, stronger, fiercer reflections of men, and the creatures of storm, air and mountain. The Dark Gods quickly grew drunk with such an awesome power and spawned The Dark Races of orcs, goblins, bugbears, ogres, trolls and hobgoblins, as well as a slew of other monstrous creatures. It was uncertain what Altan chose to father and, though he never claimed them outright, the avian race of Raptorans also came into being, as well as the four elemental tribes of Genie.
Altan and Thorm took the head of two great armies consisting of all life's creations, young and old, angels, mortals, animals, plants, insects, everything Pangeal could muster, and moved to counterattack. The Dark Gods served as bodyguards for Lordanna as she headed for the Polarbite Glacier and the source of all woe. The devils, meantime, slipped behind enemy lines and began inciting fights, mutinies and insurrections between the dragons, demons and sentient undead.
Due to the devil-stirred trouble, Delilah and Kultuss were forced to personally intervene against the in-fighting and didn't notice Lordanna and the Dark God's arrival until they were on top of them. The subsequent fight was epic, one that tore the fabric of reality and dug the well of The Astral Sea and the pits of The Elemental Chaos. Kultuss and his Dragonlords, one of each color, fought furiously against the vices, who in turn were supported by The Archdevils. As surely as Raya was meant to oppose Laz, Lordanna charged Delilah-in-Shadow. Behind her flew The Seven Epitomes, the highest of angels, who clashed against the original Seven Demonlords. (It should be noted here that the original seven demonlords did not include Shalraza or Que’Nihal, but instead Anansiel the Spider Queen and Lorcryn the Hydra King).
Further south, the armies of Altan and Thorm clashed with the dragon-demon-undead onslaught. The fighting was brutal, with both sides taking tremendous losses. As each being was murdered, Delilah grew even stronger, and she fed her might into her father. The world's freeze deepened. Raya was barely a twinkle in the long night. Dead lay everywhere, piling until there was only Altan, Thorm, and a small contingent of angels and mortal lifeforms standing against the dragon king Darminus The Skyblinder and the first demon Phalzamut The Stillborn Titan. Altan mustered his troops for a final stand, but Thorm told the mortals to stay back. Altan nodded grimly. There was nothing more mortals could do. It was a fight of divine proportions.
Thorm was the first to charge, bull rushing The Stillborn Titan, as Altan swung his great axe for Darminus' neck. Pangeal quaked as the blows fell, bits of the continental edges breaking off into islands and archipelagos. Ultimately Altan and Thorm were bested. Phalzamut, in a gruesome spectacle, tore out Thorm's very spine. The resulting scream broke the land of Pangeal into continents and would have killed every mortal nearby if not for Thorm’s agonizing efforts to divinely spare what was left of life. The use of such precise and complex divine will relinquished whatever chance he might have had to divinely recover from the death blow. Thorm died.
However, instead of empowering Laz, Thorm’s death weakened him. Altan fumbled for a reason why the ground around Thorm's body suddenly thawed, until he realized self-sacrifice was not death at all, but the preservation of others, death serving life. Moved beyond reason, the mortal races charged, and, while falling in scores, their sacrifices were not in vain as each death brightened the sun and weakened the snows. One among them, an elf named Vaness, landed the final blow to The Dragon King, an impossible feat that infused her with the dragon's Chrysaotic energy and raised her to godhood. Now two against one, Altan and Vaness finished Phalzamut and took what was left of their forces north.
The Dark Gods were maelstroms of power, but Kultuss could not be turned, so fat off Chrysaor's power. His Dragonlords were dead, but the Archdevils with them. It looked grim as Kultuss, in the form of a six-headed serpent, strangled Wrath, Lust, Pride, Gluttony, Envy and Sloth.
Lordanna faired just as poorly, barely defending against the goddess of murder. Her Epitomes dead or crippled, Lordanna resigned that her strength was not in conflict, but harmony.
When Altan, Vaness, and the surviving army topped a hill crest, Lordanna saw them and was moved. In the greatest sacrifice the world had-ever or would-ever see, Lordanna accepted death, every last ounce of Delilah-in-Shadow's power, and in turn fed the evil goddess all her love, life and dreams. Neither could withstand their opposite and in a brilliant flash that melted the age of ice and nearly all the Polarbite Glacier, both goddesses imploded.
Raya flared into a new brilliance, expending the last of her sentience and will into casting Laz back into Chrysaor. Creation had endured, and the fires of the sun were lit for all time, but at the price of both primeval goddesses.
The Wild and Cadavera
Lordanna ripped through reality and tore a new verdant reflection of the world, a plane overwhelmed by something wilder than nature that would become known as The Wild. In time, her corpse and last mad, pained moments fertilized The Fey, insane creatures combining the greater aspects of animals, insects and plants. Their Feylords even inherited portfolios of elements and seasons.
Delilah’s corpse shredded another reflection of the world, a plane of shadow that was to be known as Cadavera. In the deepest dark she festered, her rotted being cultivating a horrific multitude of entities known by many names, but by some Aberrations, whose very existence twisted sanity and reality.
And following Delilah’s fallen corpse into the new shadow plane were the Archdead, led by Rathven the Hunger, to wait for a time when they might again bid for dominion over the world.
Carceri
The Dark Gods died subduing Kultuss, but the dragon god was so infused with cosmic power he himself could not die. Thus Altan and Vaness carved a prison plane known as Carceri, only accessible through The Pyramid of Time, buried somewhere best not named. There he would be locked forever more, bound to suffer an endless life in the cold, empty prison he tried to make the world. And all his dragons were driven there with him, as well as the vast numbers of enduring demons.
Contingencies
Nothing stays dead, the old saying goes. Many of the most powerful entities had contingency plans, means in which to live on or break free.
Unknown to the gods and races of light, some dragons had hidden eggs in secret locations across Pangeal before its shattering. Their hope was one day those hatchlings would grow into ancients and find a way to free them.
Likewise the demons rested their future freedom on a gambit, their demonlords imbuing their very essences into certain objects and scattering them across the known world. Mengorot fed himself to five rings, Anansiel to six swords, Lorcryn a belt, but ruefully the rest of the demonlord’s vectors remain unknown. And all of them lay in wait, passed throughout the spoils of war, for a time when one would rise to lead them anew. (Her name would be Shalraza, and though demonic she was not a demon or a demonlord. Shalraza was actually a simulacrum designed to house Delilah’s divine spark [see below].) Delilah hid her pale copy well…
But perhaps the most remarkable contingency plans rested with the fallen gods Thorm, Raya, Lordanna and The Dark Gods, whose divine sparks were transferred into their most devote followers, and then jumped from generation to generation in certain, randomly-fated newborns. If one of these vessels could prove themselves worthy throughout the course of their lifetime, the spark would activate and his or her child would become the inheritor of that entire spark’s divine potential.
Thus The Winters War, or The God War as it was known by some, came to a close. Pangeal was shattered, only two gods remained, and the races and all other life were few and tired. Altan leaned heavily on his hammer-axe handle as he surveyed the broken continents. On the central continent, which he dubbed Othyr, it was the survivors’ duty to rebuild...
III. The Second Cycle The Second Age of Spring (The Restoration) Altan took command of the rebuilding process, teaching his dwarves the finer aspects of mining, crafting and architecture. Together the races and the gods rebuilt the broken cities and cultivated the land anew. Glorian, Alistar, Quetesh and Maynabad saw growths in population and development. However, Grimtand, the ancestral home of dwarves, was lost to a broken fragment of continent in the western ocean. Altan built his homeless children the great mountain hall of Citadel, Gate of the West, a stunning replacement.
The devils marched into Torment to become infernal kings and rulers over the souls of the damned, while the surviving angel host returned to On-High. The Genie made their home in The Elemental Chaos, exploring and settling the vast, new planar regions.
When the reconstruction was complete, Vaness moved north to guard The Pyramid of Time and prevent any god-made cataclysm from ever happening again. A loyal band of elves followed with her, led by one called Issima. Vaness lifted Issima to the status of emperor and gave him one of four Blades of Destiny, katana that were the banes of demons and dragons, but also men and elves.
Raptorans also headed north to build their own civilization and Jotun scattered, some north, some south, some east and west, to eventually develop into all the races of giants. The Dark Races, born of the vices, dispersed as well, already growing more chaotic and bestial for lack of their guiding deities.
The Inheritance of Hope Altan, weary of war and meddling, chose to disperse himself into the hearts and minds of all mortals. Altan infused each living person and all their descendants with a dormant something, a deep bravery, sustenance for the soul when all other things failed, namely hope.
The Last God In the Northland, Vaness sculpted the ice city of Ivristel out of MountIlon. It was during her rest after such a feat that she recognized a dark taint in the region. Kultuss had already begun breaking his prison apart. If breached, he and all the demons and dragons would spill back out over the world and quickly overrun it. Dutifully, Vaness marched alone ever north, to the secret location of the prison, to reinforce it with all her power...
The Second Age of Summer (The Silver Age) For many years after the world healed, the races repopulated, and in some cases cross-bred. The Five Prime Races of Man, Elf, Dwarf, Raptoran and Jotun lived in relative peace, but for the occasional skirmish with The Dark Races, who also thrived. And many other unusual and magical creatures roamed the world besides. Land, food and resources were in abundance. Things were good.
The Elven Combine
The elves built a fifth great city, Sunaul, in the western plateaus, ruled by The Bard-King Moondasl, and continued growing the cities of Alistar, Quetesh, Ivristel and especially Glorian. After years of diplomatic efforts, Mauve and Kelketch made peace with Gloriandel and all the elves rejoined into one great empire known as The Elven Combine. Each city-state had a monarch, who was also a great archmage, but all deferred to the singular magic and might of the newly-dubbed High King Gloriandel. Without question The Elven Combine was the most powerful force on Othyr.
The Elder Dragons
Across Othyr, dragon eggs secretly hatched, releasing a multitude of wyrmlings into the world. But life was hard for the unprotected orphans and many perished, some extinguishing their unique lines forever. Others survived, a generation which grew during the next two thousand years into such fearsome names as Ferenefef the Shadow, Arraret the Blue, Reedthagn the Green, Erlkite the Silver, Yesenya the Gold, Yathnoc the Red, Daithrak the Black, Khebozelluth the White, Dejeiv the Copper and Urum-Shar the Brown.
These great elders remained hidden for as long as they could, even from each other, though inevitably Kultuss’s descendants were made known to each other. With each new dragon found, the others grew suspicious, threatened even, for long had they thought themselves the only true surviving draconic power. Suspicion grew to hatred and soon the dragons were poised for war. Yet none were willing to reveal themselves to the world, for the magic of The Elven Combine could easily banish them to Carceri or slay them outright. So in light of this, they chose to fight a secret war.
The War of Whispers
Men were plentiful, easy to replace, easy to rile, and amusing to inspire and corrupt with promises of power. Each Elder Dragon adopted a kingdom of men to influence and rule in secret, to nurture and bend as they saw fit. They cultivated new heights of human achievement, fueling the fires of the human soul, and turned these great achievements against the other dragon kingdoms.
So began the War of Whispers, a hundred years of fierce fighting between twelve dragon kingdoms that utterly spent their people and resources. Everything The Restoration had rebuilt for men was broken once more and the very land was blighted from man’s strain and efforts to best one another.
Despite the peace summits and interventions of elves, man, spurred by dragon, continued to indulge their violent, destructive sides. High King Gloriandel looked on with growing displeasure.
The Rise of the Vampires
On the one-hundred-and-first year of the war, its toll evident in every dragon kingdom, Ferenefef pierced the planar veil and went looking for an advantage in Cadavera. What he found were The Archdead, who quickly overwhelmed him and possessed his body. They used the shadow elder to sneak back into the world, where they took over rule of Ferenefef’s kingdom of Saspien.
Seeping into the populace, the unclean spirits corrupted all, changed them, creating a city-state of vampires, the aristocracy of the undead. Each of the Archdead ruled through an unholy Vampire House, namely Lorein, Al’Zareef, Calalus, ‘Dir, Huma, Mallus, Il’spana and Ruiz. And under them were slews of lesser undead, sentient and mindless.
And so, in a way, Ferenefef did gain the advantage, though was hardly conscious of how it played out, remaining possessed by the most powerful Archdead and vampire creator Rathven the Hunger. Being the essence of hunger, and seeing an open vein in the world, he made war with all neighbors.
The Night War
With knowledge of magic from Saspien’s once-human mages, Houses Huma, Al’Zareef and Lorein conjointly conjured an everlasting night, one that grew and moved with their armies. The everlasting night heralded the end of the northern Ultus, as House armies and the undead horde quickly overwhelmed every town and village in their path. The fallen were converted into more troops for the horde or, for a select few, vampires for the Houses.
Citadel was next in their path, but the walls and ramparts of the god-built Citadel and the resilience of the dwarves halted Saspien’s armies in their tracks. The dwarves proved excellent gatekeepers and prevented the evil army from spilling into the Saindoron and Glorian lands. Ravenous in their failed efforts, the horde saught easier meals further south.
Yesenya’s kingdom of Pricilli was their next closest target. With ample military and navy, the Pricilli managed to momentarily halt the invasion, but it was evident their blockades would not hold for very long. While Yesenya was free to abandon her pet kingdom and seek refuge elsewhere, she’d grown to love the humans in her charge. Their valiant efforts inspired her to swallow her own fear and reveal herself to The Elven Combine in a beg for aid.
High King Gloriandel was surprised to say the least at the existence of dragons, nevermind them controlling human kingdoms, and rued his irresponsible watch over Othyr. He demanded all Elder Dragons reveal themselves on threat of total annihilation. Urum-Shar, coiled around his city of Maynabad, refused, and the wrathful Gloriandel personally flew like a bolt of lightning to the southern city and slew the dragon outright. The other elders agreed to meet then in a great council of dragons, elven monarchs, the dwarven queen and even the Jotun kings of frost and fire. Human rulers, of which there truly were none, were decidedly left out of the meeting, for The High King no longer trusted their weak wills.
As the undead festered and grew like plague in the west, an alliance was drawn to combat Saspien and The Archdead. All the council’s might was aimed west, crashing against the swollen horde commanded by the Houses. Many died during the subsequent fighting, which only fueled the enemy.
Ferenefef infused with the power of Rathven was truly a horror to behold, blighting everything in his wake with a breath that annihilated the essence of warmth and life. At his sides were the other Archdead, each possessing sires of the Houses.
High King Gloriandel on Yesenya’s back rode to battle the abominations, leading a column of dragon knights paired Queen Mauve and Daithrak, Caliph Kelketch and Reedthagn, King Moondasl and Arraret, Emperor Issima and Erlkite, dwarven Queen Breineath and Dejeiv, Frost Jarl Yjaslr and Khebozelluth and Fire King Blauszt and Yathnoc.
The resulting clash blew the hole that became Szana’s Ring, so named for the jeweled capital of Pricilli that was utterly obliterated during the battle. Only through the highest magic and the fierceness of dragons was the world able to overcome The Archdead and their horde, and not without losses. Among the fallen were Erlkite, Queen Breineath and the jarl and king of the two giant clans.
High King Gloriandel, sick of death, quarantined all the wretched remnants of the Houses and the horde into The Saspien Vale, twisting the mountains and the forests as a sort of cursed prison. (It took many years before the Houses were able to break their confinement, with the construction of Waypoints, obelisks and totems that acted as means of teleportation. During that time many vampires starved and the undead rotted away.)
The Aftermath
The Archdead and Rathven with them fell in a mythic fashion, their evil spirits dispersing into a gray vapor that infected a huge swath of valley that became known as The Veil. All living things avoided it, inherently sensing something evil and unnatural about the great span. It was said things didn’t work as they should there, as if reality itself had become tainted.
The Elder Dragons, for their aid in winning the war, were offered pardons if they remained out of worldly affairs. Each agreed, though it was questionable how many listened. Should they ever be discovered, Gloriandel promised to personally make them pay as he did Urum-Shar. And so each elder chose a spot and there they laired, attracting their lesser kin who hatched later than they, quietly breeding, quietly gaining worship by small tribes of kobolds, lizardmen and the like, but none daring to call much attention to themselves.
And men, the easily-corrupted, poorly-deciding, greedy, vice-ridden race that bred quickly and killed often, that abused their resources until there were none and drew danger upon the whole world, Gloriandel gave one last chance. He demanded they reform or they would be made to.
And for a time man obeyed…
The Second Age of Autumn
The Black Blitz
Now despite the death of the gods, it was not widely known the deities had perished. Their contingency plane of divine sparks was wholly secret. It was simply assumed the gods ascended or descended into heaven, hell, or whatever other plane. Man turned to religion for guidance in the years followed Gloriandel’s Ultimatum, to temper their natures and rediscover order. Mighty churches rose in each of the god’s names, replacing dragons as the string-pullers of human cities. But as Raya, Lordanna, Altan and Thorm were given their proper dues, likewise the evil gods garnered following, specifically Delilah, Laz, Kultuss, and of course The Dark Gods. This revival in the black religions nourished and empowered the worst in mankind.
In several centuries’ time this glut on evil led to a crusade on good, all dark religions and The Dark Races with them blitzing in one, sudden, brutal offensive to wipe Othyr of goodly opposition. They might have succeeded had they limited themselves to man, dwarf, giant and raptoran, but the arrogant cabal dared test the might of The Elven Combine.
For all the devastation, murder and loss the Black Blitz caused in the first push against good, the elves pushed back ten fold, toppling the evil churches and nearly wiping The Dark Races from existence. The evil religions were forced into hiding, relegated to small, secret cults, and The Dark Races fled into the wild places of the world to lick their wounds and repopulate their races.
High King Gloriandel’s patience for humanity was nearly spent.
The Dark War
The massive death toll of the blitz and elven response, coupled with the revival of Delilahns, was enough to spark Shalraza. With her waking the various magic items which held the demonlords stirred. One by one a mortal came in contact with the rings, swords, belt and so on. They were quickly overwhelmed by their power and became possessed by the evil entities. In time these unfortunates had their souls ripped from them and were converted into flesh-bound likenesses of The Seven.
The Seven were irresistibly drawn to Shalraza’s hiding place, a spot which touched the very bottom of The Elemental Chaos dubbed The Abyss, and there Shalraza greeted them. Mother Lamarial began birthing a new army, even as the demonlords interbred themselves, creating a slew of demon princes and princesses. When their host was sufficient, they burst into the world, headed ever-north to The Pyramid of Time, to break their demon brethren free. The resulting carnage would stoke Shalraza’s divine spark and allow her to become Delilah Reborn.
The demonic resurgence was even more unexpected than The Archdead. Prime races, dark races, and all else were called upon to fight a desperate battle of survival. The armies were assembled, still recovering from the blitz, and formed a wall on The Saindoron to intercept their enemy coming up from their abyssal gate in the deep South (another location best kept secret).
The Bahamut and The Tiamat
Dragons were faced with an important choice of which side to back, one that split them forever more into two factions, The Bahamut and The Tiamat. Bahamut would honor the pact made with Gloriandel and preserve Othyr. Tiamat would seek to realize their parent’s ultimate goals of freedom, even by helping demons. Yesenya, Dejeiv, Reedthagn and Khebozelluth unified under The Bahamut, while Arraret, Daithrak, Yathnoc and the survived Ferenefef wished to crack open Carceri as The Tiamat.
Each faction fought ferociously for their respective side, though Ferenefef was ultimately killed by a dwarven hero (and what some think a divine vessel of Thorm) known as Noob Sair (who also died in the fight, preventing him from ever realizing a god-child and successor to Thorm).
The Archdruids
Arcane and Divine power had long been at the disposal of mortals, and as the demon army crashed against the wall, Othyrians unleashed both great forces. But despite all the radiant smites and arcane elements hurled and racked against the demons, it just wasn’t enough. Too many mortal resources had been spent during The Black Blitz, armies were exhausted, materials low, and many clerics and mages that might have been present were already dead. It looked like existence as the races knew it would draw to a close just then, despite the mythic efforts of The Elven Combine and the churches of men.
Yet then did seven elementals, one of each Othyrian leyline, call to seven with strong ties to their native region. There was power in the earth, in the continent itself, residual energy from the roiling powers Raya and Lordanna imparted at the onset of Creation. These energies were constantly replenished by all living things that made the land their home. This was Primal energy, natural, cyclical, rejuvenating and independent of the Divine or Arcane. Men were most in tune with it because they were the first race, because they were animals and once-favored children of Lordanna. Other races could wield Primal force with less easy, but for the sake of time and affinity, seven humans were chosen. Each was given a piece of Lordanna’s Raiment, seven parts of the armor and affections worn by the goddess as she entered battle with Delilah.
Of those seven, a ring that would be called Archdruids, one was chief among them, a Lordani boy named Miskoumakis. Stirba, Element of Lichen, came to him in a series of prophetic dreams and waking rituals, imparting to him the great secrets of druidism and dubbing him Archdruid of the North. He proved the most capable of wielding the forces of Primal nature, and used them to powerful effect, collecting all the great beasts and plants and insects of the North as Lordanna had during The Winters War. His army flew to the aid of the Othyrian wall. Then he visited each other land, helping his fellow Archdruids call on their natural armies, which they then brought to battle. Between the druid armies, the elementals, and the seven Archdruids besides, the Othyrian forces found the edge they needed to overwhelm and defeat the demons.
Yet it was beyond the ken of any living soul, even the great wizard High King Gloriandel or the mighty Archdruid Miskoumakis, to destroy the demonlords utterly. They managed to cast Anansiel and Lorcryn into Carceri, but they could send no more. The great strain would kill them both and sap far too much Primal energy from Othyr. So instead they collected the remaining five demonlords’ essence-bound vectors and transferred the demons out of them and into five distinct prisons objects, which were entombed one in each land, bound by the Primal power of that region, kept by an Archdruid and their chosen guardian.
Miskoumakis chose Shalraza as his ward, the most dangerous demonlord of all, the seed that could become Delilah once more. He set a family of mighty sabertooths to guard it and there he stayed, keeping quiet vigil in the deeps of the arctic.
(It should be noted that at the end of The Third Cycle a dark djinni named Que'Nihal would set certain events into motion, including a caravan explosion and a snow storm, to bring about the freedom of Shalraza. She then welcomed him as a demonlord in the last incarnation of The Seven Demonlords, she herself also taking a place. It could then be contested that in The Demon War of the Third Cycle it was really The Eight Demonlords, as Anansiel was also freed, but I digress...)
The Dark War was won.
The Othyrian army dispersed to lick their wounds, triumphant but crippled. Raptorans returned to their peaks and vowed to never again come down for any reason, having come to near-extinction. The Jotun similarly receded into the deepest wilds, no longer friendly with the other races, preferring their own council and company, and having grown prideful enough to regard others as lesser beings. The Dark Races, collected for the demon struggle, were sent running, and again broke into many tribes and clans to settle all stretches. The church-run kingdoms of men were all but reduced to nothing after the blitz and then the war. The Elven Combine was still the premiere power in the world, but they too had taken heavy losses, and Quetesh and Glorian were in ruins.
High King Gloriandel had had enough of men.
The Second Age of Winter
In a bold and shocking decree within The Elven Combine, High King Gloriandel made known his intentions to break the race of men and bring them low as slaves and laborers. Too long had they gone unchecked, deaf to elven lessons unless power or pleasures were concerned. Too long had they corrupted and been corrupted. Gloriandel would not risk Othyr again, all of the world they had left, by leaving such reckless and chaotic creatures as men roaming it.
Immediately The Elven Combine was in an uproar. Emperor Issima refused to take part in such lunacy and returned to Ivristel, quietly readying his defenses. All knew well Issima possessed Simple Vow, the blade of destiny designed to slay elves with mythic efficiency. It proved a great enough deterrent, as its creator Vaness had hoped, in keeping Issima and the Feladrin safe. The emperor did nothing more then but wait out the conflict he felt brewing. He did make it known that the Athar northmen and all else who could manage to make it to the North were under his protection.
Others were not so strategic. Mauve nearly attacked her father from across the council table, but Kelketch caught her before she got herself killed. The two stormed out of the meeting and drew plans for an alliance against Gloriandel and his loyal friend King Moondasl. The weak kingdoms of men joined them in this endeavor, as did what remained of The Dark Races. Even The Bahamut and The Tiamat fought, the former for the rebellion and the latter for Gloriandel.
Dumbfounded as to the response of his command, Gloriandel’s confusion turned to anger and hate. He and Moondasl assembled the armies of Sunaul and Glorian in a war whose like had not been seen since the gods. And so was the case, many songs and poems since been sung of it, of the The Sylvan War, the great conflict of the elves, which shook the foundations of the world and rippled the seas, broke the skies and pierced the planes. For a long time Mauve and her forces of Alistar and Kelketch and his forces of Quetesh proved equal to Sunaul and Glorian, but even their great might was still second to the first wizard Gloriandel, many, many thousands of years the arcane superior of his enemies.
The Beast Races
As the war began to turn, looking worse and worse for the enemies of Gloriandel, Mauve and Kelketch scrambled for more troops. They appealed to the Archdruids, hoping their Primal power would turn the tide of yet another war. Yet each of them refused, unwilling to risk or abuse their power and the health of their land for the sake of a war, even one over the subjugation of men. That is, each of them but one. The shaman-king Chantico, Archdruid of Suoul, agreed to lend his support. He couldn’t openly offer them warriors of his loyal tribes, or else draw the whole of Suoul into the conflict, but he could perhaps create troops…
Stealing away whole barbarian clans from the steppes north of Alistar, Bedouins from the deserts nearest Quetesh, and rival tribes from the jungles and marshes of Suoul, Mauve, Kelketch and Chantico enacted unspeakable rituals combining Arcane and Primal magic. They wanted soldiers of great strength and endurance, crossing men with bulls, and made Minotaurs. They wanted ferocious skirmishers and crossed men with hyenas, making Gnolls. They needed mages and spies and mixed men with snakes and created Yuanti. These monstrous creations were abominable acts against nature, creating races outside the Power of Creation, races without souls. This left Minotaurs, Gnolls and Yuanti open to corruption by all manner of entities, demonic, fey, spirit or otherwise. Yet Kelketch’s will was stronger than the pull of all earthly tides and he pressed in the initial troops’ minds that he was nothing less than a god. It was the only way to ensure their obedience, or so he claimed.
Kelketch at the head of his new troop-worshippers, with more being made through Chantico and Mauve’s tireless efforts back in Suoul, Gloriandel’s unsuspecting elves were slaughtered by the scores. Even one of The Beast Races was many times the physical superior of an elf and none quite expected the wrath each brought to bare. For a time the war turned again, this time in Mauve and Kelketch’s favor.
The Hoping and The Damning
Just as Mauve and Kelketch had reduced themselves to gross experimentation with the arcane to get an upper hand, the losing elvish lords Gloriandel and Moondasl desperately did the same. Their own troops dwindling, their magic nearly spent, the two great kings combined their power to create two of the most potent artifacts ever made. One was a key to On-High, able to call down the heavenly, dubbed The Hoping. The other was a key to Torment, able to unleash the fiendish assemblies of the devils, dubbed The Damning.
Though many times Moondasl warned that a great price would need to be paid, Gloriandel urged his friend on in the shaping. Ultimately, The High King was forced to relinquish his two daughters in order to complete the artifacts. Young Princess Ilpa, barely flowered, was robbed of her very soul. The endless light of The Hoping replaced it. So too Mauve, even so far away and unwitting of the near-godly ritual, lost her soul. It was replaced with the bitter balefire of The Damning.
To Gloriandel’s benefit, Mauve did not know how to unlock The Damning inside of her, and in fact barely comprehended the loss she felt, but Gloriandel knew well enough how to activate Ilpa’s Hoping. He asked her to die in order to save the empire. The young girl was struck then, emotional, confused, frightened. However her good nature prevailed and she agreed for love of her father and her people. Such an act of self-sacrifice threw wide the gates of heaven and spilled the angelic army onto the land.
Mauve and Kelketch, their great cities and followers, and even The Beast Races could not withstand the holy onslaught. Most were destroyed and all were broken, scattered and defeated. The Hoping was spent for a thousand years and a day, and could have been taken off the world forever, but the angels felt pity for Ilpa and allowed her to remain, the artifact acting as her everburning soul, keeping her young, keeping her good (and perhaps knowing they would be needed again in the world).
Gloriandel in his wrath had Kelketch dragged before him, the king who dared side with his rebellious daughter. Unto him he cast a terrible curse, one that threw the elf into an agonizing state of living and dead. He was bound in arcane wrappings, his organs removed, his tongue cut out, and his body sealed in a sarcophagus filled with worms. Then he was buried in the deepest canyon in the desert. In a last show of awesome might, Gloriandel sundered the southern desert and cast it as an entire island out to sea, with the suffering Kelketch buried alive at the bottom of it.
Birth of the Drow
Mauve and her kingdom were brought before the High King, but death was too good for them. Their punishment was an endless darkness as they were locked away in great Vaults deep underground. Buried alive with only their magic to sustain them, they scratched an existence off fungi and condensation.
Thousands of years in the soundless, lightless Vaults slowly drove them mad and sensory depraved. Their skin became ebon, their hair bleached white, their eyes glowed luminescent. They grew lustful, cruel, strange and twisted. Some turned to false gods of nightmares, beings from other dimensions, and even demons for worship. Others forsook all religion and vowed to live only for the moment, only for themselves, for all their endless years.
(After the fall of their jailer, the magic of the Vaults lost enough potency for the queen to break free. She and her elite scoured the underworld cave systems, digging and blasting new ones in their search for the rest of their kin. So was born the Underdark, a twisted labyrinth of caves, caverns, pools and pits. After a hundred years of searching, and nearly every Vault found, she took a new name, The Mab, and established the drow kingdom under the unwanted stretches of the West.)
The Curse of the Were
Chantico’s abuse of his Archdruid powers did not go unnoticed for long. Miskoumakis and the others soon became aware of a strain on Othyr, a constant drain of Primal energy that was not being replenished. Their investigation revealed the lands of Suoul in ruins, the once lush and vibrant jungle of Otezum having deteriorated into a sickly marshland. Even worse, The Archdruids were shocked to discover the grotesque mock-creations being performed by the wicked Suouli shaman.
Miskoumakis struck Chantico and his evil tribe with ruin, but instead of killing them outright he placed a curse which proved much direr, The Curse of the Were. Primal energy racked Chantico and his people, over-saturating them, causing them to lose control of themselves and fall in and out of beast forms most fitting of their evil natures. So were born the first werewolves, werebears, wererats and other were. The Archdruids scattered them into the wilds to live shamed and wretched lives, hunted by all should they dare reveal themselves. And not only would this curse suffer their tribe, but extend to all evil men who survived a bite or scratch.
Yet this sudden retribution drained much of the Primal energy left in Othyr, especially when so many living things perished in The Sylvan War. The Archdruids, so weak they could barely stand, withdrew to their respective regions and entered The Druid Sleep. They lay dormant for many years as Othyr rejuvenated itself, awaking only once more to pass along their knowledge to the next generation of Archdruids.
The Gloriandeline Empire
Having won the costly war, and attributing it to man, Gloriandel punished humanity by toppling their small kingdoms and casting them into slavery. They’d caused more death and suffering than any other force in Creation. They’d been given more chances for peace and happiness than any other people in Creation. They would pay like no other in Creation.
For over a thousand years man suffered as servant and laborers, subjects for arcane experiment and elven amusement. All other races feared and shunned the elves during this time of The Gloriandeline Empire, knowing how easily they too could be made to serve. Dwarves buried themselves in Citadel, Raptorans kept to the peaks, Jotun ruled and raided their remote stretches beyond the care of elves, The Dark Races made their small wars and skirmishes against any and all to no great gain or loss, and The Beast Races grew corrupted by all manner of evil entities the world over, worshipping them as new gods in the wake of Kelketch’s vanishing.
It was a dark time.
((So now you have it! The definitive history. The major events of The Third Cycle are contained in The Kingdom pdf Timeline, and you know what happened during The Demon War. However I'll be covering these events and the epilogue and beginning of The Fourth Cycle in the next installment.))
