I dedicate this world and all it's wonder to my daughter. For being the reason i am able to connect to my imagination. Seeing you grow has been the highlight of my life. I hope my stories will make for great companions as you go on to live your own adventures.
CONTENTS
0 Prologue
1 Bergona: The light of the plains
2 The essence of Krogh'ar
3 The Sign of the ravenlord
4 The luminescence of starlight
5 Silver moon and flaming sun
6 From mountains to Vaethranil
7 Wings of the Raven
8 The Light of Peradonna
9 Forests of Vaethranil
10 A dwarf and a horse
11 Springfold: The end of all things
12 Vaethranil: City of leaves
13 Cobblestone and horseshoes
14 A gift of poisonous smiles
15 Springfold: Rise of the talons
16 The ambush at broken point
17 Howler's peak
18 Khorenstead: The King's Lantern
19 Roses and Edbaskir
20 Eddengorth: The bordertown
21 Din'Kathol: The fortress of decay
22 Epilogue
The world is fixed, its rotation slowly moving. Seasons change with the end of each
passing of the 3rd month.
the winter season of Rheda
The summer season of Solfram
And the in-between of early Odar and late Odar, when the seasons change.
One year on the face of Atha is called an ofram. That contains 10 months.
One decade is called an ochram.
One century was called ochramen
The months are as followed, Wiras, Rehdan, Ohgran, Sulfe, Ghran, Solfer, Lados,
Verka, Hosh, and Khart.
On each passing month, 20 days pass. A month is also referred to as a Cerka.
Each month consists of 4 weeks. And halfway through the month is a milestone
known as Edoth.
The five days of the month are Lunas, Idas, Egras, Gardos, and Vafram.
The most noticeable months are the early days of Wiras, Solfer, and Verka.
That usher in the new seasons.
Some realms across Atha face all the different seasons, and some have the weather
almost set exclusively to a specific season.
The Western realm lives almost exclusively in the season of late Odar and Rheda.
The middle realm houses different seasons but sees most of Solfram and Odar.
The southern realm rarely sees the effects of Odar, except from their perpetual season
of Solfram.
The northern realm suffers an endless Rheda, with the occasional Odar.
The eastern realm claims Early and late Odar almost exclusively, rarely changing,
except for the early and late changes of Rheda and Solfram.
Prologue
A long, long time ago. At the beginning of our world. When it was just taking its first breath, forces beyond our understanding were already fighting a war for its existence. The largest and brightest star in creation, Athalas. The center of light, in a vast darkness. Its light shone brighter than all the stars combined. It is here that we begin to explain the origin of all things.
From Athalas, we received our essence of life. Inside every living thing, it is the light that shines from within. Athalas was shrouded in an ever-moving blanket of pure magic. Opposite, in the vastness, lingered the void. A force of darkness of immense size and its ever-consuming tendrils slowly eating away at everything living.
The difference from standard space. Darkness is when there is no light. The void eats everything and leaves only eternal darkness. The void is ever-consuming, hungering for the light. Eons passed as the opposite forces battled. After several thousand oframs of battle, the tendrils of the void finally broke through the defenses of Athalas.
A piece of Athalas was cut off from the radiant star, severed from the magic that bound it together, and shunned and shot out into the darkness. Just a piece of lifeless rock, the void did not care for it and set its gaze again upon Athalas.
Athalas had thrived against all odds against the harshness of the void, its constant attacks, coming ever closer to consuming all light—our own story, here. On Atha, the time of the falling star begins when the shard of Athalas drifted through space and time and the time after it crashed into Atha. Descending into darkness, the piece that broke free remained dormant. It broke through the magic that surrounded Atha. The shard broke into smaller fragments and spread across the surface. Athalas had survived even this assault. Yet damaged, it continued its fight.
Magic in the shards began to seep into the ground, flowing through the earth. The essence of Athalas tried to find its way to the other pieces, to make itself whole. oframs passed, and slowly but surely. The shards got closer together. During this time, the magic had seeped into Atha. Leaving a faint magical trail that seeped into the very earth as it moved. The craters where they first crashed became sites of great concentrated magic.
Once the pieces had connected themselves, after many oframs on the earth, the magic within started to flow, unbound and unchecked. Magnified tenfold, its effects upon Atha began to have wonderous effects. It pulsed magic into the dormant earth, infusing it and making it self-sufficient. But as the magic grew, it became unstable. These were only pieces, fused. A merging of the powerful magic of Athalas, and as a result, an explosion ensued. The magical blast that followed sent the newly formed large shard to shatter again.
Creating several shards yet again, now, however, highly infused with magical essence. Anchor points, if you will, to the core of Atha. The pieces drew to them the mass of the earth and held it together, terraforming Atha, as these fragments were bound to the tether of magic, connecting the magical lifeblood of Athalas. Dormant and lifeless, these shards brought life to the core of Atha. As time passed, more magic seeped into the world while they remained on Atha. The fragments fed off Atha's essence and sent the magic back into the earth. Yet as Atha's power grew, Athalas's light shined less brightly with each passing ofram.
The void, lingering in the dark, decided to hold its advance. For the terrible hunger could not be sated. Nothing would exist that satiated its hunger if it finally ended the light. So, it waited. For another source of light and warmth, to consume. Only to awaken to feed off Athalas once its light started to grow. The magic interwoven into the shards started forming into life on their own. And as such, the elements came to be. After being separated again, the pieces had taken in properties somewhat different than they had contained before. Each mass reintroduced to its magical essence started forming its elements.
Athalas sensing this growing power, decided to send its light to the shards. As much as it could spare, and in so doing, keeping the void from awakening. Once enough of Athalas's light had infused the earth, governing forces over the elements started forming. Each of these governing forces became a prime elemental lord. To care for Atha as Athalas slumbered, trying to regain its lost light. To do what Athalas, in its slumber, could not do.
If the time came when Athalas should fail to hold back the hungering darkness, Atha could prepare to fight the void. Agar'haas, the wind Lord, Ruled over the northern continents. Across the Arid planes and landscapes, it held its dominion. Krogh'ar, the earth Lord, resided in the mountainous continents to the west. Sashishal'abenath, the water Lord, watched the waters running along each continent. Durn'gath'ara, the Lord of fire, held dominion in the eastern continents.
These elemental Lords kept the balance and nurtured the earth. They were all born of Athalas's magical life force. The Lords, in their connection to their common core, worked together. It would go on for a long time. But it would change, however.
Yes, it certainly did change. But for a very long time, everything was simple. There were the elements and the Lords that ruled over them. All that existed and had been from the same magical life force lived in harmony. And the Lords guided Atha with great care. Many thousands of oframs later. The bright star had undergone a vast transformation. It managed to find a way of concealing its light from the vastness, slumbering. While slowly gathering power within itself.
The hungering dark had seen, felt, the light growing on Atha. Different than that of Athalas, not a single light. But many small ones. Lights that could satiate the hunger, and yet still never deplete. It felt the light and warmth radiating from the Lords. And its tendrils started moving from their great slumber. Trying to infect and consume the Elements, The Lords took up the battle. And with their combined effort succeeded in fighting off the sleeping void.
The void, seemingly content with the advances it had made, returned to slumber, waiting for more warmth and light to consume once it returned. But Athalas's magic had made other plans, seeing how the elemental Lords fought with ferocity, yet only so few of them. It devised a plan. To use these continents, to create evolution, and find a way to harness these new elements to battle the forces of the void. And shortly after, all manner of growth came into being. First, there were flowers and trees. The nurturing earth and the water made them grow tall and strong. Some flowers and trees, guided by their elemental Lord, grew taller and learned how to move their essence. Next came the evolution of water.
Weeds from the sea and coral-like structures started growing, following in the footsteps of their brethren from the other elements. And so each elemental Lord started creating their kind of evolution. Following Athalas's design. Once they had the time, which was rare. From their battle with the void.
The Lords took great care to follow the guidelines set forth by Athalas. They took special care and brought natural evolution forward with giant leaps. The evolutionary path that caused the great serpents of the seas, and vast creatures that roamed the lands, was possible.
After a long time, creation began creating evolution without Athalas's help. More and more things started to populate the continents. Free of anyone or anything's guidance. Until finally, there wasn't any place left not touched by creation. So the elemental Lords decided to wait for Athalas to reveal the next step on the path of evolution. The Lords focused their entire existence on the battle. Many eons went by. Atha was thriving under the leadership of the Lords.
The void makes an effort once every few thousand oframs to consume the lands. Claim the light and be satiated. Only to be fought back by the Lords. The void each time consumed with it much of the light that resided on Atha. Until finally, small creatures started growing all over the continents. They started appearing from the oceans, the grounds, and the trees. Having these creatures inhabit the lands made the weary elemental Lords active again.
Spending so long preparing and fighting. Battling a neverending foe for ochramens to split their attention caused significant cracks in their defenses. In moments from the time the Lord's eyes had focused on the lands, other creatures started appearing. The great serpents in the waters spawned even more different animals and life. The trees infused for so long with magic began to live and uprooted themselves from the ground.
Great creatures that roamed the skies started appearing, and other smaller ones emerged soon after. Different races have begun to appear after that. More evolved.
The first to appear were the Elves. It looked like the first elves were spawned out of the moon's light when the first elf walked out of the pool of starlight. The moon is a small star between Athalas and Atha.
The elves that appeared afterward decided to live next to the pool of starlight and the elven capital erected nearby. As their numbers grew, they began to find other collections where shards of that same star had fallen. And they began to settle nearby those as well. They are not giant craters but are revered as holy places. The elves gave it its name, Daarnool.
The elven forestlands lay deep to the south in the southernmost continents. Its lush forests and green fields, collections of crystal clear waters, animals of all colors and sizes, and moonlight seem to shine brighter than anywhere else on Atha. And afterward, once the elves had inhabited most of the continent, they named it Sadornalithan in honor of the elemental Lord of water, which their pools of starlight resembled.
Here, all life is lived in harmony. Every creature knew their part to play in the great circle of life. To be born of the magic and later return to the earth to be reborn once more. And it is followed by all of nature's children. At least as much as evolution would allow.
Not all had evolved along the path of sentience. These evolutionary beings could not all survive on the magical essence that flows through Athalas alone. And some began to consume others. By magic born, by magic returned. Each creature that roamed the lands had some part of the magic in them, some gifted with more significant amounts than others. Consuming others was a way to gain enough magic to sustain their lives.
Seeing the beauty of the elves, the elemental Lord of the earth decided to mold a creature of its own. It was taking in all that surrounded it. It took the fire from deep within the world, the hardness of the rocks, and the different pieces of ore and metals, gems, and crystals. To further its creation, and so, the Dwarves were born.
Out of cracked stone, the first dwarf emerged. Drew a stony breath and saw only darkness and caverns for as long as its fresh eyes could see. Soon it began to feel lonely and decided to cut its way through the earth. And the further it got, the more dwarves it found. The elemental Lord took the rocks, stones, and minerals the dwarf had cleared and sculpted more. Soon, however, these short creatures grew weary in the earth Lord's mind. Trying to look at the beasts of the lands and the seas, it found a way to sculpt dwarves that could reproduce by themselves.
As they began to thrive on their own without the constant vigil of the Earth Lord, it returned to its neverending battle against the void. Not long after, the dwarves cleared enough space inside the mountains to call it home. And the dwarven lands of Grok'Gar'Bien were founded.
The land held great beauty but also great peril. Deep in the western mountains, a great mountain city was built and expanded from each excavation. Surrounding the great mountain where hills and valleys with prominent mountain peaks, the town lay untouched by the rest of the world. For deep beneath, evolution took its course. Once expansion hit an all-time high, creatures poured from the tunnels, emerging through. And an ageless war ensued under the mountain from a conflict none knew how it started.
As ever-working people, the dwarves have been slowly expanding their borders in secret for hundreds of oframs until they started digging east and stopped for reasons unknown to others except for themselves. The war under the mountain raged on, but expansions were halted for many oframs due to the stalemate caused by losing and gaining back lost grounds and outposts.
When they weren't fighting, they spent their days crafting and building throughout their already vast cavern and mine network: growing fungi and other mushroom-type plants and mining rocks and minerals.
Following the other Lords' footsteps, the Lord of Fire created mighty beasts by merging the sea serpents with the massive land striders, forming flying animals with the power of fire and destruction. And after some time, the first Drakkonar took to the skies. Flying animals of great size and beauty breathed flames they harnessed from the Lord's fire. They were spouting huge gouts of it at will. These fantastic beasts are differentiated in both size and color. The Lord of Fire only made a handful of them, and they were mostly similar, with some slight shift in coloration. These spewed fire like the others. What made these beasts the Lord's most outstanding achievement is that they could siphon magic from Atha, growing bigger and stronger the longer they remained.
The older ones that had harnessed the fire longer had grown bigger and grander, capable of harnessing the primal force of fire at a much greater capacity. Sometime after their creation, far longer than any living being can remember for sure, the Drakkonar started reproducing, much like the other races. The Lord of Fire had finally learned the secrets of life and bestowed them upon his creations. After that, the Drakkonar significantly increased in variations.
The colors spread from Red to blue, white and green, black and gold, and silver and bronze. And as they evolved, so did their ability to harness the primal force of fire.
Having battled the void endlessly for millennia, the lords started showing cracks in their armor. Tiny cracks, but enough for the tendrils of the void to seep through. To infect the minds of the Lords, only but a fraction. But a wound like that, if not treated, slowly festers. And the elemental Lord of fire was the first to succumb to corruption. At first, to destroy the void, unknown to all that, corruption had sunk its teeth into it. The Lord of Fire started to want more, to enhance his creations to battle the void. A benign will to do good started to turn twisted.
And the Lord decided to borrow power from the other Lords. Or they were stealing if one preferred those words. As it borrowed from its siblings, pulling from all the elements and merging them into its creations, the Drakkonar became something different. They started breathing different kinds of fire.
It was warping their essence and corrupting their minds. Frost-fire froze everything it touched. Dark-fire that destroyed everything it breathed upon, draining the life from it. Absoring it into the Drakkonar. Acid fire poisoned and dissolved all but the hardest of materials. Many of these combinations formed as the other elements were merged into the part of the fire. Conflict ensued over this breach.
As the other Lords felt the corruption, their infighting became more specific. And the primal Lords started waging war against each other.
It was giving their fight against the void a lessened effort. The dark tendrils pulling the Lord's strings, like a puppet master, content for now to oversee the corruption that had infested their minds. Leeching of their light as they fought amongst themselves. It fueled a conflict that would later seep into the elements, infecting the ones they were designed to guard. And after several hundred oframs, the elements had been filled with these thoughts of conflict and mistrust, malice and greed. Some elements had been taken in more by this than others. And it became clear when Kebora'Sin'gorah, The Drakkonar lands to the long east thought protected, was now being invaded. The Drakkonar hunted for sport. The Drakkonar, who had always thought of themselves as protectors of the realm, and held in the highest esteem, were being hunted and pursued by simple greed and desire. Which had a part in the corruption of the Drakkonars, as some became deranged and twisted, some Drakkonar more than others.
The Drakkonar began to cut themselves off from the rest of the continents. Only a few Drakkonar remained true to themselves and held onto their minds. They were scattered into hiding. They decided to unite, push the other races out of Kebora, And claim the lands as a haven for all Drakkon.
They were not being able to trust any other races anymore. As the Drakkonar race lived, they protected their borders with great prowess. As time progressed, the Drakkonar started growing ever colder. Now, the infighting amongst the Drakkonar was all but certain. Something outsiders knew little. The reason for the Drakkonar's hatred for other races, for their immense power and strength, the result of the hunting of the Drakkon, and their capability to reproduce, was all but shattered. All the female Drakkonar was seemingly lost during these oframs of the hunt.
The Drakkonar, still faithful to the mission given by the Lord long ago, could have forgiven the rest of Atha's inhabitants, but their race's destruction made them grow cold and spiteful.
Some want to turn the greed of others into their undoing. They were cursing their wealth. Unknown to the elemental lords, the continent that lay in the middle of all these great continents, with parts of all different elements scattered throughout it, from all the oframs of the Lords fighting one another, Humans started to emerge. Or Burdawln, as they refer to themselves in the common tongue.
A race of small pink-skinned Burdawlnoids, mixed living creatures from this great battlefield, began to inhabit the great plainlands with hills and forests. Soon they spread to nearby small mountains and all the great rivers and lakes. Since Burdawlns appeared, they started growing and outnumbered every other race. They were reproducing extremely fast. However, the Burdawln lifespan was significantly less than any other of the sentient races of Atha.
Many speculated this was Atha's creation keeping the balance as they reproduced so quickly, but there was another part to the evolution. In the Lord's corrupted state of mind, they saw Atha's creation as an abomination, a curse to be removed. And they all sought to influence Burdawlns in their way. To take back the magic they deemed stolen from Atha, to be used by them to wage more war.
The elemental Lord in the north did not waste time bickering with the rest of the Lords. It just created everything it could to gain the upper hand. And Burdawlns, being very susceptible to the elements, as they depended on them extensively for survival, fell victim to many of their plans.
In Burdawln lands, making the most of your life was the primary goal. But its creations were made in haste, trying to duplicate the pureness of Atha, A mixture of man and beast formed—a mix of creature and man but neither. Many different breeds and sizes started spawning out of the Northern lands, the beasts reproducing out of control. Even the extraordinary capability to produce that Burdawlns possessed was weak in comparison. They were more fragile than Burdawlns but many in numbers. A few hundred oframs later, roads, towers, villages, and stone castles littered the countryside in the middle realm.
They knew they had limited time on Atha and were influenced even more by the elements. Their greed and lust for power and wealth started to deplete the natural resources faster and faster as the Burdawln population grew. Atha's magic replenished the lands, but as greed grew, so did Atha's resources run dry much more quickly. The decline in resources fed the desire in the hearts and souls of men even further, so they continued to expand their borders to other parts of the continent, trying to consume the resources of other realms.
As they continued to increase their borders, it caused friction in the other nations. The Burdawln lands are the only territory holding the Barbaric beast-men in the north at bay from invading the rest of the continents. That is not to say that they haven't tried invading other continents before, but failing significantly against the fortified dwarven lands to the west and the enormous winged fire-breathing Drakkonar of the east.
As the oframs progressed, the battles of the Lords, where civilization slowly began to emerge, were more noticeable. And with increasing power came an increasing desire for greed. And conflicts turned into wars, and even the lesser races began to fight. The great continents held together with the unity of Asha's creation began to split from the significant conflicts.
And Landmasses broke off and slowly started drifting apart. This chaos fed the void for many oframs to come. Drinking in the destruction, savoring each light extinguished. For as all thought, magic born, magic returned, it wasn't all so. The void stole more and more magic as each creature fell. New powers rose. And old forces fell. Having their lands claimed.
It took considerable time, but soon, makeshift stability had been won. Much by the aid of Atha, it was trying to purify the minds and souls of the world. Some resisted the corruption that whispered in their ear, and some embraced it. And a few thousand oframs later, five dominant territories stood above the rest. At the same time, many minor territories were either vassals or fighting silently under the rule of others, with small wars and peace enforced or created. In the elven lands to the south, The conflicts had also struck. Fighting the wildlife, as it turned feral against them. It made them distrust others, losing their ability to communicate with nature. Soon after that, a warning was sent by Athalas to the purest and uncorrupted of the elves.
As it had sensed the coming darkness that would envelop it, it had waited long enough. It would make a final push to conquer Athalas and consume all of it. Making sure there was no escape from it this time, gifting the knowledge to a powerful druid. That was elven in form but a child of Athalas in the heart. The warning was given, but to corrupted ears, fell silent. The mistake would haunt the elven King for the rest of his days.
"Beware the tendrils of darkness that seep. Beware the voices of the blackest night. Calm your spirits and rise upon the winds of dawn, and smite with the vengeance of the light. Never falter, never surrender; the darkness shall never claim the heart. Should the heart fall, the one shall be anointed. In the darkness, the age of blood shall spill across the lands, and the vastness shall slumber victorious in the blackest void."
At this time, in Burdawln lands. The war by Burdawlns and Beast-men had taken a heavy toll on Burdawln grounds. Not being prepared for the overwhelming size of the barbaric Beast-men's army, they overtook the northern part and the capital soon. Thirty or so oframs after the loss of the cities of the north, the Burdawln King Alderious Artemian Falgor and his son, Crown Prince Peridius, barely escaped with their lives after being betrayed by their most closely valued friends.
Who gave them up to the Beast-men of the north. Their family was not so fortunate to survive the ordeal. The Queen and two of the Princesses perished that fiery night. When the Beast-men came, with fire and axes, and slaughtered any that stood in their way.
A fiery vengeance started to grow inside King Alderious. The burning of the Queen and the princesses alive inside their castle. He was fueled by the tendrils of corruption, seeking his every thought of anger and fueling it. And he soon gathered what was left of their army and led them across the plains of Eberas and over the hills of Angerdal—striking down the Beast-men holding the lands without mercy. Reclaiming villages and watchtowers keeps, and castles with such ferocity. Vengeance and hatred burned bright like a fire in his heart.
Peridius quickly gained favor with the army after this. As his father became more consumed by his anger and hatred, Peridius rose high in the hearts and minds of his people. A skilled warrior but an even more gentle soul as many oframs of war ravaged the lands. Whereas his father would slaughter all in his wake, Peridius tried to save the innocent Beast-men and women that had fled their oppressive homeland. Now considered traitors and were to be killed on sight.
It became increasingly apparent that Peridious would make an excellent King one day. As they quickly liberated settlement after settlement. Peridius had started creating secret villages and sanctuaries for the refugees. The King and his son's tale was sung across the Empire, and whispers of the Prince's actions for the Beast-men and women refugees also surfaced slightly. They were bringing both foe and friend to their doorstep. Depending on which man they left from, it significantly differentiated if they parted as enemies or friends. Peridius, by far, is the more friendly of the two.
They fought throughout Falgor, liberating settlement after settlement until only the Crown Jewel of the Falgorian Empire remained. The resting place of the star shard that fell to the earth. "A grab'shul afakti," As the Beast-men had renamed the city.
It was heavily fortified, having been under the Beast-men's rule for over an ochram. And the siege lasted for many oframs—far too many oframs for anyone's liking. Several attempts to reclaim the city were made. One day, Crown Prince Peridius had enough of the fighting of losing men and women under his command and took a small group of his finest warriors. Breaching the city in secret to avoid any more bloodshed was their mission.
He was enabling his army to storm the gates. Using the friendships he had forged over the long and hard oframs of fighting with some of the native Beastmen and women he had saved, they managed to sneak into the city and disable its defenses. The Beastmen were caught unawares, growing complacent in their hubris. They believed that the attempts to seize the town were in vain.
The occupants swiftly fell as they swept through the city, cleansing each level of the Beast-men. After the battle, those who surrendered were either slaughtered by the King or sent back to their homeland by Peridius—causing great conflict through the inner workings of the Empire. Peridius's actions sowed the seed for peace that would last for a while.
Peridius focused on rebuilding the lands and aiding his new people, taking in refugees from the northern lands, beast-men that had none of their kin's lust for blood or carnage and who wanted to live in peace. Much to his father's great disgust. And the reason for many of their primary arguments and fights. Slowly but surely, the hostile Beast-men were driven back to their homeland in the north. But at a high cost. Vowing to return to end the Falgor line. The Beast-men's Alpha swore a blood oath on the shores of the northern continent. Peridius taking this threat seriously tried to negotiate with the Alpha. But King Alderious wanted more. His fury knew no bounds.
The tendrils of the void had a firm grip on the King's soul. No, he did not want to settle in peace or be content with reclaiming what he had lost. He tried to crush the Beast-men. Annihilate them, wipe their existence from history.
Even though King Alderious was a great soldier and an even greater commander, the Falgorian army could not break the army of the north. He sent scouts, saboteurs, assassins, and raiding parties to disrupt the northern lands. Waged war, winning some but losing more. No matter how many beasts the Falgor army slew, the Beast-men's ranks always filled back up. Their greatest strength was the ability to reproduce, and no strategy seemed practical.
And so oframs passed. With each passing ofram, the kingdoms' resources were draining to fund the King's endless war. Peridius's attempts at diplomacy were all that held the nation together. The skilled negotiators of the realm brokered peace while war waged on until King Alderious died. The situation regarding his passing was speculated for some time.
Many suspected that he found death at a blade. Some thought he was betrayed by his own, and some thought the most likely outcome was an assassin's touch. But the matter was quickly laid to rest as Peridious forged a peace treaty with the northern Beast-men. He was sacrificing much for his people's safety. A peace born out of sticks in the mud was not much of peace. Peace was hatched.
And Peridious made no moment go to waste in rebuilding and forging his Empire into something extraordinary. Fortifying the borders and ensuring the people received enough resources to rebuild what they had lost in the wars took much of Peridius's attention. The refugees helped where they could rebuild, some being more petite in size and some bigger. The rebuilding started to pick up. Several peace treaties were forged, uprisings quelled, rebellions struck down, and wars started and ended. But the Empire was thriving and blossoming under the Falgor banner as much as the commoner could perceive his wealth. And Peridious had now entered his late sixties.
The oframs passed, and soon the forging of the Falgor empire was a faded memory in the parchments of history. Peridious lived as a hero to his people. And by the end of his life, he was blessed to have three children standing beside him: two daughters and a son.
Several ochramens later, Ferandel Artemian Falgor, the last living pure descendant, suddenly passed. From unknown causes, at the age of thirty-eight. Behind remained his three sons, all from different mothers and a daughter. The oldest son was birthed by a noblewoman, a Burdawln of notable nobility, matched by his father to strengthen relations with the northwestern territories. The middle son was birthed by a courtesan, a woman of great beauty, who seemed to have just appeared one day at the castle and quickly found herself in the King's chambers.
An elven royal birthed the youngest son—the sister of the elven Queen.
The daughter, birthed second, from the Queen, A Burdawln noble of great renown. These four royal members of the Falgor empire remain in the scriptures of history as the most important of the Falgor line, after the great King and his son Peridius.
To this day, the history books tell a tale of the second brother's growing madness and lust for power. Him being responsible for the greatest sin of the Burdawln's historical knowledge. The Risah.
The act of returning those dead without their own will to serve under his command.
And to sell the souls of his people to a Hark'shas.
As the siblings grew, the oldest brother took up the mantle of King once he came of age. His youngest brother and his sister supported him.
But the middle brother only saw disgust, whereas the rest saw love and affection. He wanted the power for himself. So he planned and schemed. He plotted and deceived his way forward. He was doing anything he could do to achieve his goals, researching for any means to gain control. Even practices that go against any beliefs taught to him. But the voices in his mind promised him such sweet rewards, goading him on. And the brother was so easily swayed.
Searching far across the world for the most horrifying ways to achieve it, the thing capable of giving him enough power to control and seize the Empire from his older brother.
As a few oframs went by, he became more desperate and crazed. He was having a more challenging time hiding his dark schemes. Several servants and guards went missing over the oframs as they discovered the brother's dark secrets. He was delving into the blackest of magics and forbidden taboos of the dark and twisted ways. He finally found what he believed to be the ultimate power. To tap directly into the void, to be gifted the infinite, in exchange for this power, however, a price was asked of him.
His undying soul.
The brother tried to weasel his way out of the deal, to find a way to keep his rotten soul. And as the void had seen, he went another path as planned. Bargaining with the Hark'shas Prince Kaaz'Gabrool, the manifestation of flesh made by the void, He persuaded it to be supplied a near-endless source of souls; instead, every enemy slain was to be given to it. And in return, he was given dominion over the fallen dead. The corpses were left behind after the Hark'shas Prince had feasted upon their souls.
This fact was not known until a very long time afterward. The brother started raising the fallen dead out of the ground and began his slow march across the land toward his brother and the Empire's throne that he coveted with such greed. They supplied the Prince with one soul after another as he moved along.
Across the countryside, the puppeteering tendrils softly moved alongside him. The void gently guided his actions with but a whisper. As he kept winning battles, he fed the ever-hungry Prince more and more, and as he did. The brother's power grew, gaining more and more influences from the void disfigured him the more darkness he drew. Until almost he was nearly unrecognizable except for the closest of kin, his body had withered, and his flesh stretched over his bones. His eyes filled with deep green and black smoking mist.
Nine oframs of peace have passed since the shadow campaign swept the countryside. It was set ablaze to everything living in eyesight. The bordering nations, unaware of this foe, kept to themselves. They minded their borders until the day that shook the realm completely. The fighting over the oframs was only heard as whispers or rumors. The Burdawln capital was attacked. They send their agents ahead of the forces to poison the guards, spread fear and chaos, and make more soldiers for the cursed brother's army. This action was made in the moon's light for all to see.
And so, being successful in their task, the dead rose. The deceased started to rise and fight their previous allies all over the city. It was causing widespread panic. Soon they began to swarm the streets. The dead walked across the fields outside the city gates. They started approaching as the rest of the army lay siege to the city walls. Servants of the demon prince had been gifted unto the brother for his service, and these creatures with sharp and razor-like fingers tunneled under the walls, creating tunnels for the dead to sneak through.
The King and his sister fought a hard battle once the castle was alerted to the sneak attack in the dead of night. But it was to no avail. Come sunrise, almost all that drew breath were breathing no more. The siblings decided to both make sure to protect their youngest brother to the end. Recollections from the King's guard had been written down over the oframs, and the history of these events was compiled as accurately as possible. The battle raged for several days. The King held the throne room for a very long time. He was holding off several of the enemy's attempts to advance.
Each attack takes with it more souls of the guards. Wave upon wave of the dead shambled through the corridors on their way toward the throne. As it appeared all was lost, as the remainder of the King's most loyal guard stood beside him on his throne, the King ordered them to leave him and protect his sister and brother. They stood their ground until the King called them again and pleaded with them to keep his family safe.
All shedding tears for their beloved monarch, the guards broke ranks and rushed toward the sister's tower. There, she desperately tried to keep the dead from entering her chambers. The dead had just broken through the door as the guards charged toward the room. They were coming to their aid, slaying the dead, and putting them to rest. They tried to escape with the youngest brother. The guards secured the route toward the secret exit. Once they reached the back room of the armory, they listened to the King bellow as he fought valiantly against the dead, now pouring into his throne room. Fighting was heard still across the castle but died down as each scream echoed throughout the halls.
All sounds died down during this fight, as the King's voice was heard loudly throughout the castle, almost magically enhanced for all to hear. Until he finally was struck down, his last words echoing and etching themselves into the bones of any who heard them. "I'm sorry, Yalina," as he was struck down by none other than his brother.
Now, being the great fighter that he was and also the King, he possessed incredible magical artifacts. Had he not hesitated once he saw him, the King would not have perished by his brother's evil magics. He had held his sword high and began to swing it. Stopping at the last second as the brother struck him with a most heinous curse—the last sound before the castle went silent.
The sister and the army commander had escaped to the royal passageway hidden inside the backroom of the armory. Behind them, the guards tried to follow through the passage. The King's guards kept the two royals safe while the commander extracted them from the castle.
Hearing footfalls down the armory corridor, several guards stayed behind to buy them time. They made their way through the connecting tunnels and into the city. Just as the few who remained had found horses and were preparing to leave, the sister screamed out in pain and fell to the ground. A green and black mist came out of her back. The commander grabbed the young Prince from his sister's arms, and the remaining guards fell into a protective barrier. They were shielding the horse and the Prince. Before getting out of the city, however, several of the guards had perished. Some to arrows, some to magic. Black and green bolts shot from rooftops and streets.
Finally, they survived the escape and quickly moved across the countryside. The sister, however, was indeed struck down. She looked to have perished but not killed. Oh no, not killed. The brother had other plans. The brother was eviler than any could have foreseen. He brought his sister in chains in front of the Prince. And he willingly offered his sister's soul in exchange for being turned into a Lich. The ultimate sacrifice is that of blood that he gives freely and claims to love. The void, pleased at its puppet's work, granted the request.
Keeping his phylactery safe would ensure that he could live on forever. An intricate piece of art decorating a droplet vial with a dark crimson liquid inside seemed to react at the slightest touch. As inside was the blood of his Burdawln self. A vial dropped through a black hole, turning him into a faithful Lord of the undead.
The youngest brother of the Falgor Line was quickly spirited away by Prime General Velathan, the army commander. And the remaining guards that had guarded the previous King. For many nights, the guards could not stop their tears. And even in small moments of solitude, the general shed tears. Many oframs spent every waking moment guarding their new King with fervor. Hiding him at a high cost claimed many of their lives over the oframs. Until only a handful remained, and Velathan.
They had sought refuge in both the dwarven and elven lands. But they were soon found out there as well. Feeling that no place was safe, they returned to their homeland. And they had a few oframs of calmness. Until one night, some odd fifteen oframs after they had last left these lands while some men and women were gathering firewood. Velathan heard fighting and rushed back from the woods. Just as she saw the camp area and the lookout posts, the tents, the horses, and the fire, All decimated, the guards dead in their positions. Arrows litter their bodies. The cook, the horse tender, all that had been left inside the camp had been slain. Fearing the worst, she stormed into camp in search of her King.
The King was lying down inside the burnt-down remains of his tent, several arrows piercing his side. He had burn marks across his face and arms, and legs. It didn't look as bad as she first thought. Believing he was dead. Verlathan helped the King support his weight on her shoulder as they went outside. The remaining gatherers from the soldiers she had left with had returned to camp. They were trying to find survivors of the massacre while holding the area for their commander and their King while they made their way to the horses.
Shadows appeared, and quick blades found their marks. Several of the ones guarding the area fell, instantly slain. The shadows moved quickly during the night, and with no fire to reveal them, they outmaneuvered the soldiers. One by one, they fell as the clouds seemed to be growing in numbers. Fearing defeat was inevitable, she sent her King onto her horse and was about to get on when a colossal mallet struck her straight in the stomach—sending her flying across the ground.
When she comes to moments later, bloody and barely making her way to her feet, she looks straight into the eyes of her King. The young Prince that she left the capital with so many oframs earlier. The young boy she had taught, cared for, protected, and trained. Who held all the virtues of a true King, a close friend, and perhaps even felt like a surrogate son, hands to his knees, arrows still in his side, with a defiant look on his face. Seeing through the periphery of his vision, he looked straight forward and mouthed a silent "Thank you" The assassin chuckled and swung its sword.
The Prince's body fell to the ground, beheaded. His head was not moving, being held aloft by the shadow-like assassin. At the same time, his body started rolling further away. The Assassins took the head it held by the hair and put it into a bag on its belt. The shadows laugh into the night. The laughter sounded like dying crows.
Velathan, mad with grief, pulled herself off the ground, consumed by rage, charged into battle. Her wounds seemed like a distant memory, running on the fury of fire. Heat almost radiated off of her as she set at her opponents. She turned her attention toward the assassins and unleashed her fury.
Like a wild animal, she ferociously slew all of them, keeping the beheader alive the longest, questioning him. Until he, too, tasted her swords. In a way that cannot be described as fast or painless. She mourned her fallen King and friend. And in some ways, to her, the loss of a son. The few surviving members on the ground tried to crawl, stand up, or walk over, none saying a single word. Their extended mission ended in the worst way possible.
Finding him a quiet, undisturbed place within the nearby woods, she said the elven prayer for the dead. The dwarven hymn of stone and the litany of the departed. The few who remained stood behind, not a dry eye in sight.
Having nothing left in the world, having everything she owned gifted to her by the late King, now having lost the last of his royal family, she got up from her kneeling position and walked out of the forest, jumping onto her horse and riding off. Before she left, her soldiers were given a choice to follow for revenge or return home. Everyone got onto their horses with fire in their eyes. Her mind was honed and set for a single purpose. Slay the usurper—the killer of her Kings. She spread her story far and wide to anyone who would listen, taking advantage of her Elven heritage and previous contacts within the Dwarven and Elven lands where the group had made camp for the past twenty oframs.
Many of the people they had met along the way were greatly saddened as they also knew the King and what kind of man he was. And many became infuriated, and a fire was lit inside the hearts and minds of the people he'd met. That burned across the nations, finally reaching enough ears to gain the support of the two great countries to the west and the south, having the help of the Dwarven King and the Elven Regent. She gathered the remains of the army still loyal to her and the late King and began to march upon the Empire's Crown jewel.
Not known to anyone but the youngest brother and perhaps the maiden who took him in, not even Velathan was aware, that during their travels, the young King had conceived a child, which he knew not that he had. This child, unknown to all, was to play a more significant role in the fate of the Empire than any could foresee.
Massive battles were fought, and many died in the fields outside the Empire's capital. Once the elven and the dwarven forces arrived, the tide of war began to sway. Finally, the city was breached, and the road to the citadel cleared. It took their strongest warriors to combat the usurper's commanders, but the usurper was brought down by the might of each nation's fiercest warriors and magic.
Judging the Lich's crimes too heavy for him to continue his existence, the nations decided to have their most vital magic users and weapon-wielding heroes destroy the usurper's form. But nobody knew that, in secret, the usurper's phylactery was smuggled out of the citadel by his Burdawln manservant.
A fake phylactery was left in its place. And found. They believed it to be authentic. Destroying it served to settle the minds of the nations. The oframs that followed were those of rebuilding and reconnection. Rumors had surfaced that a phylactery still existed. Even though the council appointed to rule over the Burdawln lands tried to quell these rumors.
Bloody infighting of the Burdawln capital's noble families ensued, and unofficially a secret mission was given to the most powerful heroes of the combined armies. To set forth, hunt down the phylactery, and destroy it utterly. To this day, none know what happened to these heroes.
Having worked hard to quell any talk of a phylactery being real had left the populace believing the lies spewed by the council. And such left the darkness to root and fester once more. The nations had left their representatives inside the capital to liaise with their respective kingdoms. And also to keep the diplomatic alliance forged by the commander alive and prospering. In case any evil once again started to rise.
Diplomatic areas were where representatives could stay and were considered protected. And as the Burdawln lands seemingly had no royal blood heir left to ascend the throne, a council was chosen to represent the Empire of Falgor's interests. The oldest nobles from the most influential families picked up the mantle. Velathan, a very significant person, a trusted general, and a close friend to the royal family had gained much support throughout the Empire. Having battled and bled for the honor she now holds, the army supported her.
The people chose her to be on the council. The one represented reflects the people's will. Some still looked down upon her for her gender and for simply being an elf, meddling in the affairs of Burdawlns. And some, even for both. But they accepted the ruling of the people.
The skies are darkened by red clouds and a burning sunset that begin to rise on the horizon. Looking out over the fields covered with thousands upon thousands of bodies, the lands covered in red crimson. It had been several days, and the care of the dead had been well underway. The oldest and wisest of all the races had gathered and stood at the center of the carnage.
And even as they were holy men and women. Magic users with powers more extraordinary than most could ever dream, Kings and Queens. It mattered not. They slowly began helping in any way they could and helped move the bodies of all those that fell—aiding their way to the beyond. Some blessed the departed and prayed for their safe journey toward the beyond. And once all the bodies had been laid to rest. They all returned to that spot in the middle of the brown-stained fields. Thick with blood and gore, the ground was seeping with corruption. The gnawing and ever-hungering void, salivating mouths of ever-growing sizes are ready to consume the world. As the blood soaked into the earth, Atha's light started to glow duller, less bright, and more erratic. It seemed that all hope appeared lost. The men and women decided to lay down their arms, stop all fighting and sign a treaty. They tried to purge the corruption from the lands using all their power and every ounce of magic they controlled.
To cleanse the stench of decay and remove the blood. The collected might of the united forces was pushing back the corruption. Athalas's light began to shine brighter and brighter. It was making the void recoil. Its tendrils drew back. They had cleared much of the corruption that had seeped into the lands.
Holding each race accountable to one another in this new treaty, always seeking diplomacy where able. To bring peace in all things, to always fight alongside and never against each other. To keep this kind of senseless death from occurring ever again. This treaty was known in history as "The Blood Treaty." Based on the cleansing of the earth, and the beginning of a united land with a bond more profound than mere words, it was enchanted with the blood of each royal family, each Master of magic, men and women of great notice.
The corruption would forever be held at bay as long as this treaty was firm. If one should try to start hostilities towards another, the blood treaty shall let all know who are bound by and to the blood treaty.
And so began the Age of Blood. Elves, men, and dwarves are now starting their lives together, trying to live in harmony with one another. And at first, it seemed unfamiliar. The races have been at war several times for hundreds of oframs. It was not encouraged to seek out other nations, and nobody knew what to expect.
But then the Dwarven King invited the Elven Queen to his palace. And later, they joined the Burdawln council in rebuilding their capital. After that, the cooperation and friendship of the races significantly increased, and they started to prosper. Now seemingly growing further away, the void's plan began to wrap its tendrils into any lesser beings it could. It was trying to find every chance to destroy what they had built. No more border guards patrolled the borders. Merely a guard post to keep watch. And to keep contraband out of their respective nations.
All lands inside Falgor were made part of the United Empire of Falgoria. Previously it was four different lesser kingdoms. But as the council formed, the parts all merged into the council. They were marking the unity of the entire continent. And to honor the late Falgor bloodline. They had given their brave souls in defense of the Empire's lives. The Drakkonar in Kebora'Singorah kept a close eye on the following conflicts but merely held their borders. In the newfound spirit of cooperation, the elves gave the Burdawlns their medicine and knowledge of healing and the way of nature to the other races. They aided the dwarven people as they delved deeper into the earth, uncovering beasts and other creatures. Men, who were the most populated of the three races, however, after the wars, slightly reduced in size, given their numbers and hard labor to rebuild what had been lost during the war.
They were aiding the dwarves in their mining process underground and making significant advances in the dwarven expansion of the Western mountains. Helping the elves create roads to allow the races to visit the lush and green lands of the south. Knowledge and technology were shared freely among the races. Prejudice and hate were all but gone. It seemed like a distant memory. Divergence and unique qualities were celebrated. And the elements had silenced their influence on the smaller souls. Having the races at peace, the followers of the Elemental Lords aided their struggle against the void. And they fought back the tendrils that crept into every crevice they could muster after they had finished fighting each other.
Pushing the dark away from Atha drew corruption, and the minds of the Lords became less corrupted. They were regaining some of their lost sense of duty and honor, giving the races time to breathe and regain more control over their lives. The dwarves gave their knowledge of the earth and their riches of gems and ores for trade. This knowledge was most sought after by the elites of men. They began to prospect and dig into the earth, coveting the gems and riches for themselves.
The dwarves were the most wonderous crafters of jewels and trinkets—the greatest pendants and jewelry with gems from Western mountains. The dwarven forge masters were the only ones to harness and create the most impenetrable armor known worldwide. Though, to be fair. It was only inside the western mountains that the ore existed. They also made the heaviest, most sturdy weaponry. They were only parred by the elven grand smiths who forged more delicate things. Sharper and lighter, if one had the grace of the elves, no sword could match its speed. Different, but in no way lesser than the dwarven-made weapons. Weapons forged by elven smiths were the sharpest and most deadly in the lands. All the metal made into weapons and other things elves used were harnessed out of Astaroon, Moonrock.
A strong metal that broke off from the stars as they fell to Atha. And though stars do fall, the rarity is immense. Therefore any Starfall upon the earth is of great concern to the elven people. Everything from bowls and goblets of high quality had an essence of Astaroon. Trinkets and swords for the average elf had a tiny amount more. As its rarity was so immense, only the most gifted of fighters that have shown the grandest of skill, after royalty, were allowed Astaroon equipment with a higher concentration of the pure element.
The only ones to have pure Astaroon creations were those of the royal house of Riddarhlein. The elven King and Queen and their daughter. Astaroon, teardrops of starlight. Ah, how it glows brightly in the night sky. A white-blue tint that fades into deep blue only to gently caress a streak of silver, gently fading into a black mixture as the moonlight fades and the glow ceases.
Peace endured, and the nations became more at ease with each other. And some of the retired dwarven commanders who now did not need to command their platoons were free to seek other lines of work. Most of these turned to construction. As did many others that retired from a life of battle. Even though the nations may be at peace, bandits, roaming monsters, and animals were still a problem. Goblins and orcs created homes below the ground itself. They were preying upon the rest of the world. They rarely get wiped out as they return more robust each time.
Tenacious little devils, these goblins, skulking into every crevice, and orcs who detest anything good can't stand the light—thriving in darkness. These and several other bandit camps appeared across the siloeyir road. But the significant conflicts of the world played their course. Now only the more minor challenges lay ahead. After all that had happened during the age of blood, the strongest and wisest amongst the races created the Hall of the Elements. A place where the elemental forces could come together and converse. Its primary purpose is to uphold the balance of the world.
A safeguard to watch over the lands should the worst come to pass and the treaty is disrupted. They would send their representatives to places of great disturbance to help ease the tensions and solve the chaos created by the void, whose tendrils were growing ever closer. To put out the light and to finally bring everything to utter darkness.
