Maybe this is some interesting reading for those who are bored and badly miss the possibility to play "Final Realms". A suggestion 'we need some new books' for the very ERA we are playing in. Heh Reverend you so called "Librarian" do your thing ;) or make even more Comics. Hehe just kidding you are cool Reverend keep up the good work!
Well here are The books in Stormfront Library :
City of Stormfront: Tower of Attrition
You have entered the library for Stormfront and Belaern Isle. The dominant
feature of this room is a long countertop, behind which sits a wizened,
feisty-looking old man. He looks at you contemptuously, as if to question your
right to be in the presence of his beloved books. On the wall behind him is a
bookcase that has several large tomes resting upon its shelves. You think that
if you looked at the shelves more closely, you might see the titles of the
available books. As you continue to survey the room, you see several large
display cases, and you realize the library doubles as a sort of museum. The
northern wall holds several mounted weapons. The door through which you entered
is guarded on either side by unoccupied suits of armour. The southern wall is
completely covered by a huge tapestry. Two objects of interest are set along
the western wall, a large stuffed and mounted warhorse, and a huge stone altar.
There are two obvious exits : out and up.
Keylon is here.
A sign.
>
Keylon says: A well-phrased question will bring a useful answer.
Keylon scowls as he looks at a book with dog-eared pages.
l shelves
There are many books and tomes filling these shelves
from which you can "request <book number/name>":
1. The History of Dragaera
2. The Battle of the Aaveldrop Fields
3. Myths of the Natives: The Shaldorzuum
4. The Native Inhabitants of Belaern
5. A Book on Duskwind, Stormfront Customs Officer
6. A Book on the History of "The Cult of Hellfyre"
7. A Book on Indrin's Beacon
8. The Rule of Salmarik
9. The Dread Rakmar
10. Sal-Karr, Hero of Stormfront
11. A Book on the Sons of Salmarik
12. The Great Clocktower of Stormfront
13. A Book on the Founding of Stormfront
14. The Great Volcano of Belaern Isle
15. A weathered book
16. The History of Daggerford: Center of the Realms
17. A brief history of the Unicorn Mountain
>
> request 1
The librarian gives you a leather-bound book, "read book".
> read book
In the ancient past, long forgotten even amongst the elves and the
truth of which is only revealed within these pages there were
four tribes. The four tribes were lead by one court, presided over
by a king and a queen and a council of 8. They lived mostly
isolated, except for those who saw to the governing of the land
and its inhabitants. The court was in the fair city, Dragaera.
Dragaera is a graceful and magestic place of unbelievable
beauty. Four great plazas (one for each tribe) border the royal
palace with market places in turn surrounding them. All was set
within the most ancient and beloved forest of the known realms.
The earth, itself, is said to have welcomed the embrace of Dragaera,
offering forth the marble and wood used in crafting that fairest and most
noble of cities.
For countless generations, so many that even the elves themselves
forgot, peace reigned and the four tribes prospered and grew. No one
is sure when, but it must have happened gradually. Maybe the trees
told them, or the wind. New races now inhabited the world. Races
that were loud and destructive and lacking the ability to understand
The History of Dragaera [ Q to quit ]
the harmony... the balance that existed in the world. The new
races brought with them, spawned from nothingness and with startling
rapidness (or so it seemed to the long-lived elves) beings, which
like the elves were immortal (or nearly so or so it seemed) but
who were childish, giving in to their every whim. Not all of these
new beings were 'good,' either. They reflected the attitudes of
those who worshipped them. This was all new and almost bewildering
to the fair race. However, as none of this directly involved them
and their balance in the world was still strong, they didn't
give it more than three or four generations of consideration before
dismissing it as irrelevant.
But it wasn't irrelevant. The most renowned historians of the day
agree that that period was the turning point. The end was upon
us, but we were too blind (perhaps, arrogant?) to see it. For these
new races and their immortal creations brought something intangible
but all too real into the realms. Somehow, no one will ever
know how, a god (for this is what the new races called these immortal
beings... or so the wind whispered to the elves) was created through
her own thought. She willed herself into being, but she was weak
The History of Dragaera [ Q to quit ]
and without substance because she had no followers.
The Sundering. Though all elves now knew the basics of worshipping
'gods,' it is still hard to fathom that this could actually be of
benefit to anyone but the 'god.'
This new, self-willed god was weak. She could intervene
in the world only in the smallest of ways. Her voice couldn't even
be carried on the winds or even through the trees, which even the
youngest elven child can do. She had to actually be near to one for
one to feel her presence. She tried for many years to gain followers
among the new races, but they were unreceptive to her enticements.
She had a reputation for cruelty and the new races were frightened
of her. They called upon their gods to protect them from her.
She was blamed for every drought, death and misfortune that happened
for years upon years. She was driven into exile by a concerted
effort of the other gods.
The prevailing theory is that she found a haven in the city of the
Aerdna. She directed her presence inward (as in deep meditation) for
The History of Dragaera [ Q to quit ]
countless generations, but the essence of her began to seep into
her environment. The Aerdna began, over the insuing years, to
withdraw from court. Only the two council members and their
clans would actually be in Dragaera at any given time. Eventually,
they withdrew entirely from court. A hastily convened council
met and decided to send representatives to the Aerdna in an
attempt to rebond the four tribes together.
The representatives went to Aerdnaia but were barred from entering.
They found a wall around the Aerdna city! Returning to Dragaera,
they reported this puzzling phenomenon to the council. After
very little debate (a mere 73 years past, signifying, a very hasty
decision was made), new representatives were chosen and sent out to
gain entry to Aerdnaia by unorthodox means. This second party gained
entry into the city and found it much changed. Where once graceful
sandstone spires soared into the air, now granite and obsidian held
sway. There were strange spider carvings woven into the architecture
everywhere. Even the city, itself, was shaped like a web, spiralling
out from a central point. Traversing the winding streets, they headed
inward, to the heart of the city.
The History of Dragaera [ Q to quit ]
The heart of the city was grotesque, a monstrosity of dark granite
and obsidian with blood red accents. Shaped like a spider, climbing
a web up into the air, legs hooked in to guard the towering
doors at the front, the building standing at the heart of the city
was horrifying. The party left to find shelter in the woods outside
the city, hoping that the softly spoken trees would calm their
nerves. They hoped also to find the strength to enter that building.
The next day, they re-entered the city, full of fear and trepidation.
Slowly, they made their way to the center. Standing before the
spider building, they gathered their courage and walked up the stairs
to stand before the doors. As they stood there, uncertain of how
to proceed, the doors swung inward, revealing a black darker than
the worst nightmare filled night. The air was thick and moist,
making their skin clammy and their hair lank. They entered the building,
sure that they would never leave.
Stepping into the inky darkness, they paused in the vestibule waiting
for their eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness. The doors swung
The History of Dragaera [ Q to quit ]
closed behind them. Walking down a long hallway they felt a hum
vibrate through the air. The hallway spiralled around the building
into a vast central chamber. In the center of that chamber was a
sunken altar. On that altar was a throne and on that throne sat
a woman. Her skin was dark and her eyes were widely set and slanted
slightly. Her hair was white and coiled around her head in a sort
of crown. Surrounding the altar were stone benches arranged in tiers.
The benches were full. The Aerdna were humming and staring with
awe upon the face of the hideous woman on the throne. Her head was
slightly lowered as if she were deep in thought. As they stood there,
she raised her head and smiled... a hideous parody of joy crossing
her face.
She spoke in a low, raspy voice, her words strangely slurred, "You
look upon my people." It sounded almost defiant, as if daring the
strangers to dispute her. They didn't. As one, they started backing
out of the room, but she laughed and they were stopped in their tracks.
Three of the four fell, silently to the floor, as if their bones had
just melted. The fourth turned and ran, the woman's laughter echoing
and echoing through his mind. He ran out of the building and through
The History of Dragaera [ Q to quit ]
the streets and out the gates.
(**reference: "The Perversion of the Aerdna" for a more detailed
account of the city of Aerdnaia **)
It is likely he ran all the way back to Dragaera. It is my belief
that he was trying to outrun the laughter, though he ever did.
He died in that central room along with the others, but the laughter
kept him animated until after he brought his disjointed tale back
to Dragaera. The council debated the issue for the next two generations.
They knew after hearing the report what must happen next, but they were
unwilling to commit themselves to such a heinous deed. After much heated
discussion, a vote was called and the council of six now, along with the
king and queen, voted, five for, three against, a declaration of separation
of the fourth tribe. This was tantamount to a declaration of war and
not made lightly. There had never been 'war' amongst the elves, though
they knew of the concept from observing nature and from the
new races.
(**reference: "The Sundering" for a more detailed
explanation of the meaning of a 'vote of separation.' **)
The History of Dragaera [ Q to quit ]
The remaining three tribes amassed at Dragaera and prepared to
march against the Aerdna. This occurred fairly rapidly, most
every 'adult' of the elves gathered by the end of the next
generation. They marched on Aerdnaia and a fierce battle
ensued for the next two generations. The once glorious but
now hideous Aerdnaia was all but obliterated. The war spread
south into the lands of the new races. The new races themselves
were drawn into it. Fighting on both sides, the new races
complicated matters. The elves, the three tribes and the Aerdna,
were disconcerted by the capricious, unsteady rashness of the new
races. Their tactics were unpredictable and lead to catastrophic
bloodshed. During the war, the Aerdna god, Cyrcia was absent, but
the Aerdna were not chagrinned at what was obviously the loss of an
important weapon (later, it was learned that Cyrcia predicted the
defeat of her followers and was preparing a new place for them to
dwell... underground in the darkness she preferred.).
(**reference: "Cyrcia: Building an Empire" for more
information regarding her 'lost' years. **)
The History of Dragaera [ Q to quit ]
By the end of the second generation, it was obvious the Aerdna
were losing. Their numbers dwindled until one day they were
all just gone. They had fled. The elves seemed empty; their
victory was hollow, as they had known it would be. The tribes
had been sundered, the few survivors of the Aerdna gone, never
to return. The world was in complete devastation. The balance
of nature was in utter chaos. The new races had been all but
eradicated from the realms. The elves prepared to depart the
new lands, ashamed and broken. The council met and decided that
a few should remain behind to guard against the return of the Aerdna
and to help rebuild the lands of the new races. Those that
volunteered were revered for all knew that they would never be
allowed to return home.
The elves returned to their lands, using almost every ounce of
strength they had to persuade the earth to obscure their tracks
and set wards against intruders. Returning to Dragaera, greatly
reduced in number, they convened one last council of the three
tribes. This last council resolved to disband the court as The
Sundering had destroyed the solidarity that linked them together.
The History of Dragaera [ Q to quit ]
The present king and queen, disheartened by what had befallen their
people, for they were the embodiment of all the tribes, left
Dragaera and the wind never carried their voices again. One by
one the tribes left Dragaera until none remained. The city,
itself, so beloved by elves and nature, remained, though. It
will always stand as a monument to a past that is better
forgotten.
Serisin, Tribe Sinaku
> l
City of Stormfront: Tower of Attrition
You have entered the library for Stormfront and Belaern Isle. The dominant
feature of this room is a long countertop, behind which sits a wizened,
feisty-looking old man. He looks at you contemptuously, as if to question your
right to be in the presence of his beloved books. On the wall behind him is a
bookcase that has several large tomes resting upon its shelves. You think that
if you looked at the shelves more closely, you might see the titles of the
available books. As you continue to survey the room, you see several large
display cases, and you realize the library doubles as a sort of museum. The
northern wall holds several mounted weapons. The door through which you entered
is guarded on either side by unoccupied suits of armour. The southern wall is
completely covered by a huge tapestry. Two objects of interest are set along
the western wall, a large stuffed and mounted warhorse, and a huge stone altar.
There are two obvious exits : out and up.
Keylon is here.
A sign.
Keylon says: Something you would like to ask about? Hurry up.
Keylon claps his hands happily and exclaims: I'm so glad you came to see my new
book! It was found on the corpse of an elf, high on Unicorn Mountain. I think
it's very important!
The librarian gives you a leather-bound book, "read book".
> read book
THE BATTLE OF THE AAVELDROP FIELDS
The first battle fought between the sons of Salmarik was
the Battle of the Aaveldrop Fields, which was named after
the location on which it took place. The fields of the
fertile lands known as Aaveldrop were the richest farmlands
in all the Realms, at least before the wars ended. In the
first battle of the sons' armies, the fields would be
irrigated by the blood of thousands of men. In the second
and last battle, the fertile lands would be laid waste.
The battle was to be quite a rout, or at least, so thought
many of the wise men of the time. Too many people favored
Frodo, and thus, he would have a decisively larger army
which would simply overpower the army of Orfod. There were
some wise men, however that thought Orfod would be the
victor due to his skill with battle tactics. Long had Orfod
studied tomes of knowledge regarding the tactics of battles
and great historical battles. Frodo was not so wise to the
The Battle of the Aaveldrop Fields [ Q to quit ]
ways of war, yet many felt numbers alone would give him the
necessary advantage.
The two forces met, finally on the large expanse of the
fields of Aaveldrop. The winter had been devastating to the
fertile fields, but once spring returned, the lands would
live once again. As they were, however the fields were dry
and dead.
Orfod's army was first to arrive at the future battle site,
realizing that being their first and fortifying his forces
would give him the advantage of the terrain as well as
supplying his army with the feelings of protecting their
territory. Orfod realized that a defensive posture would be
necessary, at first in any case when confronting such odds
as he knew to be inevitable. Drawing up defensive plans
immediately, Orfod began the preparations for battle. Frodo's
forces would be there within a day or two, and Orfod knew
that in order to have any chance, he had to rely on the
unorthodox.
The Battle of the Aaveldrop Fields [ Q to quit ]
The first thing Orfod had done would turn out to be the
decisive action of the battle. Orfod had trenches dug in
a semi-circle, with the high point of the arc being the
location of his main forces. The trenches were nearly
invisible on the flat area, but were large enough for the
large force of Orfod's footmen to sequester themselves,
each armed with a claymore. Orfod had learned that Frodo's
prominent force was his cavalry, so he planned to defeat
Frodo's cavalry in this manner.
Orfod also had his men gather as much dead straw and grass
from the fields. With this dead vegetation, Orfod's group
made blankets that matched the ground, making anything lying
under it invisible for all practical purposes. To his archers
did Orfod give these blankets, and he spread his archers on
both sides and the full length of the fields.
------------------------------------------------------------
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Battle of the Aaveldrop Fields [ Q to quit ]
/
xxxxx / OO oooooooooooo
xxxxx / OO ooooooooooooooooo
xxxxx / OO ooooooooooooooooo
xxxxx | OO oooooooooooooooooo
xxxxx | OO oooooooooooooooooo
xxxxx | OO oooooooooooooooooo
xxxxx OO ooooooooooooooooo
xxxxx OO ooooooooooooooooo
xxxxx OO oooooooooooo
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
------------------------------------------------------------
---------------------------Legend---------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------
-- x = Orfod's main army / = Orfod's footmen trenches --
-- * = Orfod's disguised archers --
------------------------------------------------------------
-- o = Frodo's main army OO = Frodo's cavalry --
------------------------------------------------------------
The Battle of the Aaveldrop Fields [ Q to quit ]
Frodo's army arrived sooner than Orfod had expected, but Orfod did
have the time he needed to complete his preparations. Frodo's army
was indeed much larger than Orfod's, but Orfod's men were in no way
discouraged. The sun set just as two armies were able to see the
others' full compliment, and both knew that in the morning, they
would all see each other much closer.
The sun arose on the battle field to find both armies still at
rigid attention, eying one another over the vast expanse. Frodo's
cavalry stood at the ready, preparing to charge right through the
apparently feeble line of Orfod's men, and completely oblivious the
the trenches before them. Orfod's archers were all in place, some
no more than a few yards away from Frodo's men.
Frodo, greed-ridden and blood thirsty wasted no time and quickly
gave the order for his cavalry to begin what he felt would be the
slaughter. The rest of Frodo's men prepared to follow in the wake
of the charge and massacre the rest of the hapless little band.
And so began what is now historically referred to as "the footman's
The Battle of the Aaveldrop Fields [ Q to quit ]
charge".
The cavalry charged swiftly with their spears and lances lowered
towards the unmoving line of Orfod's men. As they neared their target
they were suddenly made aware of the folly of their confidence. As
the line of horsemen reached the trenches, out sprang the claymore
wielding footmen of Orfod. A cavalry is nothing without their horses,
and so the orders of the footmen had been made clear, remove their
horses. Each passing horse in turn was dismembered, legs lobbed off
at the knee with one clean swipe. Many of the cavalry died in the
fall, having their neck broken or by falling under the weight of
their legless horse. The rest were summarily killed by the footmen.
Frodo and his army, now in a state of disbelief committed their
second mistake by sitting there watching the misfortune of their
prized attack force. The only thing that gave the archers away
was the twang of their bow strings. Frodo's army dropped like
flies, and without much hesitation, Frodo called retreat and
the remainder of his forces fled.
The Battle of the Aaveldrop Fields [ Q to quit ]
It had truly been a one sided victory, but to many's surprise
Orfod was victorious. None of Orfod's main fighting force had
been killed, but a few footmen had been crushed under horses,
and several archers had been killed during the fighting retreat
of Frodo's army, but all in all Orfod was very pleased. He knew,
however that Frodo would be back, and the second battle would
hold far fewer surprises.
MYTHS OF THE NATIVES : THE SHALDORZUUM
[Librarian's Note: The woman mentioned at the end of the text is
surrounded with mystery. She has been seen, but never approached.
She is not of the natives, though they treat her as a queen. It is
not known where she came from or why she lives with the natives.
One local rumor says that she is a former resident of Stormfront who
left many years ago, but according to those who have seen her, she
appears much too youthful for that. ~ K.D.E.]
Born in ancient native myth, a great race of powerful immortal
beings known as the Shaldorzuum has been a working part of traditional
folklore on the Isle of Belaern and in Stormfront since nearly its
founding.
The belief and worship of the Shaldorzuum has been an integral
part of the lives of the native population of the jungles of Belaern
ever since history has been recorded. The natives hold to the belief
that they were created in the image of the Shaldorzuum and were placed
Myths of the Natives: The Shaldorzuum [ Q to quit ]
on the great isle for a purpose. Believing that they are the chosen
of the Shaldorzuum, the natives believe all other races to be corrupt
and against the ways of the Shaldorzuum. Little is known as to why the
natives developed this particular myth.
The Shaldorzuum, or Chaeldurtsum, [ shal - dor - zoom ], are
said to be beings of immense stature, traditionally 15 feet tall, but
capable to alter their size and appearance at will. The beings are
completely benevolent unless mocked or otherwise troubled. The immortals
are also very protective of the native population, causing storms and
other natural disasters when the lives of the natives are threatened.
The Shaldorzuum dress in brilliant colors and silky material, sometimes
adorning themselves in beautiful plummage of birds and beasts of the
outer planes.
The natives believe that once, when the isle was 'pure' and
populated by only being of like kind, the Shaldorzuum walked freely
among them and upon the Isle of Belaern. Now, it is believed that only
a single descendent of the race lives among the natives, and it, in
the form of a lovely woman. The natives believe that the Shaldorzuum
Myths of the Natives: The Shaldorzuum [ Q to quit ]
reside in another plane, yet always watching and looking after them
and their progress.
DUSKWIND
[ Librarian's note: As Duskwind is reluctant to talk about
her past, and the wisdom of interrogating her is questionable,
all the conclusions drawn in this text are just speculation.
Perhaps one day, Duskwind will open up and write about her
experiences as she did about Sal-Karr's life in another book
found in our collection. ~ K.D.E. ]
The stunning woman that guards the docks of Stormfront has
a mysterious past that equals her beauty in complexity.
Duskwind has spent her entire life in the city of Stormfront,
though her beginnings are somewhat clouded with rumor and
uncertainty. Her mother, Lauranya, died giving birth to her,
and also before naming the girl's father. It is believed by
most residents of Stormfront that her father was indeed the
legendary Sal-Karr, though he vanished before the child was
born and was married to Sylasha at the time.
A Book on Duskwind, Stormfront Customs Officer [ Q to quit ]
When she was orphaned at birth, the family of Balithor, the
town smithy and former fighting companion of both Lauranya's
husband, killed in the battle for the Tower, and of the great
Sal-Karr himself, took the girl in. She was raised alongside
his children, and thinks of the smith's family as her own.
Balithor and his family were always upfront with her about her
uncertain beginnings, and by the age of 17 she wanted to seek
the truth about her father's (?) disappearance. She left home
and set out in the direction Sal-Karr was last seen moving
toward, that of the Great Volcano. She was gone for several
months, and many feared the worst... but she returned to
Stormfront, wearing a mysterious amulet and with a strange
look in her eyes.
She has never married, though she was at one time pursued
quite extensively by a miner. She appears to have rejected
men under several different and uncharacteristic reasonings,
the one she employed with the miner was to proclaim him too
A Book on Duskwind, Stormfront Customs Officer [ Q to quit ]
poor to support her. She has broken many a heart, and one
wonders how and why she chooses to remain solitary.
Presently, Duskwind can be found patrolling the docks of
Stormfront. She acts as Customs Officer for the island. Why she
does this is not entirely clear, she appears to have reasons of
her own. When she presented the idea to the City Elders, they
saw its merit and allowed her free rein in planning the customs
system. It serves the city well and is a tribute to her skill.
ORIGIN AND HISTORY OF THE CULT OF HELLFYRE
[ Librarian's note: This book is an excerpt from HISTORY OF
THE REALMS, a not-yet-finished work. ~ K.D.E. ]
"...For seven centuries, the inhabitants of these
young Realms enjoyed what has become known as the Age of Light.
With the close of the elven wars, the drow had retreated into the earth,
where they would remain hidden for many years. Upon the surface,
new alliances were formed between the races of good, as even dwarf
and elf formed bonds of friendship.
It was during this era of prosperity and peace that the first
Council was formed; a brotherhood of Paladins, Archmages, and
Holy men, who roamed the land, assuring the safety of all peoples.
The goblins, orcs, and other giant-kin were driven back into
their caves, and it was said that a virgin could walk alone through
the Realms without fear for her safety.
The Age of Light was a long and glorious period of these
Realms' history, but, as all ages do, it came abruptly to an end.
A Book on the History of "The Cult of Hellfyre" [ Q to quit ]
The drow, having established themselves in the wild Underdark,
re-emerged, their magic enhanced by the dark radiations of the
world beneath our own. With them came the duergar, evil kin of
the dwarven peoples, in armies so mighty that the earth itself
shook with fear. The city of Bryndhol, ancient seat of power, was
sacked within a fortnight, and across the land, elves, dwarves, and
humans banded together in a desperate hope for survival.
Little is known of the age which followed, called by some
the Age of Darkness. Few kept records of any kind, and even the ruins
of the Realms' mightiest cities have disappeared over time.
One name comes down through the ages however, the name of a
dark elf unmatched in power or ambition. His name was K'ycer Hellfyre.
A High Priest and Necromancer of Cyrcia, indeed the FIRST male
ever allowed into that goddess' dread clergy, K'ycer was a force
to make worlds tremble. For four hundred years, his
armies besieged the Realms. The elves of Semyrlin were all but
eradicated, the dwarves in Duncamber were forced to collapse the
tunnels leading into their city in order to escape destruction.
Good seemed a forgotten concept, and evil's victory complete.
It was then that the great Council re-emerged, its membership
A Book on the History of "The Cult of Hellfyre" [ Q to quit ]
composed of all good races, from elven archmages to human paladins,
good's last hope of victory.
The armies met, and evil was thrown down from its seat of power,
though the cost was incalculable for each force. The race of duergars
was almost completely destroyed, their lack of magical prowess a
decided weakness which the enemy archmages capitalized upon.
It is said that the skies rained blood for a year afterwards, and that"
the great desert which is now Kycrin was a lush forest before
the month-long battle.
When the skies cleared, many of the drow had retreated into
their dark cities, claiming that Cyrcia no longer favored the war.
K'ycer Hellfyre and a few others were all that remained of evil's
nucleus. The Council too was irrevocably shattered; of the
more than one hundred powerful mages and lords that had begun,
less than twenty survived. Aching and exhausted, they nevertheless
took up their staves and their weapons, gathered their retainers,
and set off after K'ycer, such was their hatred and fear of him.
Into the Underdark they came, the mightiest of the Realms'
paladins, followed by legions of warriors and powerful archmages.
And there, in a crumbling tunnel of broken stone, K'ycer turned
A Book on the History of "The Cult of Hellfyre" [ Q to quit ]
and met them in battle. He was at the height of his ability, and
Cyrcia was with him, as he tore ranks of holy warriors apart with
his spells, and dominated mage after mage. His followers fell,
one by one, but the great Lord Hellfyre shrugged off lightning
bolts and sword wounds with equal disdain.
There the battle might have ended, with evil once more
victorious, but a holy Priest of Timion called upon his God,
in an act of sacrifice beyond any this Realm has seen.
His physical shell became a living conduit for Timion's power,
and a hammer of light formed in his hands. As the life faded
from his body, he hurled that great hammer at the
drow Priest, and struck him to the ground.
All was still. The war cries of battling
enemies had ceased, to be replaced by the moans of the dying.
The Timion Priest lay where he'd fallen, his body spent
by the strength of his prayers. For the space of an hour, nothing
moved.
Then a small shudder ran through the body of K'ycer Hellfyre.
Slowly, and with great pain, the drow crawled towards the north
wall of the cavern. Before him, the rock split wide, and he tumbled into a
hidden
A Book on the History of "The Cult of Hellfyre" [ Q to quit ]
complex. Upon the deep carpet, the great drow offered a final prayer
up to Cyrcia, forming the words of a spell through trembling
lips. 'My Queen', said the dying drow, 'Defend thy Servant.'
And then, he died.
Thus ended the Age of Darkness, and began the Age that is our own.
K'ycer Hellfyre and his dark works have been forgotten by the mortals
who walk these Realms, all except a chosen few, who have come to
worship in the chamber of his death. Favored by Cyrcia, each
strives to complete K'ycer's grim vision. This is no group of
weakling fools, but the chosen succesors to the drow's
legacy of pain and violence. This is the Cult of Hellfyre.
Let the Realms beware..."
[end excerpt]
THE MYSTERY OF INDRIN : A COLLECTION OF SCROLLS
[ Librarian's note: This collection of scrolls was discovered
at Indrin's beacon by Gerdon when he and Hain went to interview
the current Indrin for a text in progress. It appears to be
some kind of journal, found and then re-found through the
centuries. We store documents like this so that perhaps some
scholarly adventurer can study and make sense of them. ~ K.D.E ]
None are sure exactly what Indrin looked like..
Seems that he or she (again there is little certainty)... really
didn't like publicity, and was always working and doing magic
in the shadows. It is generally assumed that Indrin was indeed
a male, perhaps a human or half-elf... none think it could have
been a dwarf (Although to the historians on Golhyrr it has long
been assumned so.)
So with the general uncertainty around Indrin, the sketchiness
A Book on Indrin's Beacon [ Q to quit ]
of "his" legends and histories are understandable.
Here is the tale of Indrin (consolidated) as was told to me in
the late summer around 30 years ago by a strange and deluded old
man who lived along the eastern coast of the Isle of Belaern.
(I am sure he is gone now... storms and time would have long ago
erased any sign of him. But I believe his name was Gelion.)
Indrin came from the West... from across the great sea. He
was found adrift on a sailess boat, near dead, by a vessel from
the now nearly forgotten Kingdom of Gwaithir. At his request, he
was brought before the King, who at that time was Dhorin
Stoneweaver, greatest of his clan. The court was alive with
rumour and speculation, and it was generally assumed that the
stranger Indrin would perish, for even during those marvelous
times he was severly ill. It was nearly a year before he spoke.
For a time Indrin lived with the people, seeming to relish in
observing them. A great friendship was formed between Indrin
and Dhorin, so much so that Indrin was highest among the advisors
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to the king and was trusted implicitly. Indrin taught the
children of Dhorin of the wide world, and of the beauty, both
magic and corporal, that lay within it. Many years of happiness
ensued, and great were the wonders the Stoneweaver clan wrought.
Great mechanical creations, magical gates into other worlds,
sleek powerful sea vessels, and yet not all were pleased. Ever
has it been among those that have so much, they can never get
enough to satisfy them, and so wild were their explorations into
all things that much was done that would be considered wrong.
It was nearly 60 years after the arrival of Indrin from the west
that the Chamber was found. A small dark hole in the earth, that
many said didn't even exist in our time or dimension. (I believe
Gelion speaks of a pocket dimension, quite large from his
gestures.) IT was in this chamber that IT was found... a sliver
of the chaos that spawned the world. Against the wishes of
Indrin, Dhorin took it forth and fastened it upon a scepter, this
was the beginning of the time of darkness, that still continues
today. By slighting Indrin, Dhorin had driven a wedge between
them, and only upon the death of Dhorin many years later would
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it be bridged.
A foretelling was given to Indrin and he told those that would
listen... among then were many of the sons and daughters of
Dhorin. Many struck out the the West, seeking the land that gave
Indrin to them, others went East, some went through the world
gates to adventure in other dimensions. Soon Gwaithir, which was
once mighty and great, grew neglected and empty. Those that dwelt
within it, humans and dwarves, quarreled amoung themselves, and
great was the discord and sadness in the heart of Dhorin.
It was during this time that Dhorin became very sick, and he
knew death was upon him. He summoned his remaining people
and bade them seek out Indrin, so that they might be reconciled.
Even as he spoke Indrin appeared and came forward to comfort Dhorin
in his death. Upon his death, Dhorin was entombed in an glorious
crypt. Not long after his death a great silver dragon flew
from the south, which unlike most dragons did not attack the
city, instead it spoke in the ragged, sad language of a creature
that has lost all will to live, saying that it had failed to
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protect Dhorin, and would therefore would guard him in death.
(I surmise here, for the elderly chap began to babble terribly,
that the dragon was indeed Stoneweaver's wife. She was long thought
dead, but never had her tomb been found. A few things the old chap
said during his tirade seem to suport this idea.)
Indrin was overcome with sadness, as were the remaining people of
Gwaithir. But this was short lived. Indrin and the remaining
sages of the Clan, sought to entomb the Rod of Chaos, as it was
now called, for they attribute its arrival with the decline of their
civilization. A great and elaborate holding place was constructed.
And so to seal it off the Sages built the Arch.
Indrin wanted to guard it more heavily... by removing it from
existence, but the sages grew weary, and longed to depart from
this place of sadness. (here the old man began to chant...
it was indeed odd.. and frightening... but this is basically
what he said) "Light and dark are the keys to the keys, and
they that unlock the door and complete the gateway, doth
welcome death to the quickly." (His tone of voice was most
disturbing, and he began to babble terribly after that.)
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Once it was finished the city of Gwaithir was abandoned, those
that chose to remain traveled south, while the rest traveled West
from whence came Indrin.
Indrin remained on the Isle of Belaern for another 100 years after
the fall of Gwaithir, staying only long enough to erect the Beacon,
to "guide those that will come to this place to see and maybe
right that which we leave wrong." During this leaderless time many
petty kingdoms arose from the dust of the Stoneweaver kindgom.
Soon Indrin could bear them no longer and he too traveled West,
to rejoin the children of Dhorin, and so Indrin was gone.
Here ends the story the old man told me... what follows
are my notes on the subject of my namesake Indrin.
Indrin was obviously a great wizard, and had a slight
gift of prophecy. The lighthouse I keep was built to light
the way through the deadly reefs. I can only assume that
the Gwaithir was a city somewhere near the southeastern base
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of the sleeping volcano.
Although I have only found a few mentions of anything
similar in current records. I can only assume this story to
be either a delusion, or a verbal historical account, and
as such I have transcribed it as closly as possible. This
Indrin chap I feel was real. For I am the 12th of my title,
and even though I was given a different name this is the
one I wear as Beacon keeper.
~~Indrin 12 [Year 20 of the reign of King Merkis]~~
[Librarian's note: The following handwritten note was tucked
into the orginal manuscript. ~ K.D.E.]
Upon cleaning the lighhouse library, which was quite dirty,
and much cluttered with books, I came upon this scroll. I feel
it is of some historical value, and I will send it to the
Town Library as soon as possible.... but I feel the need to
add a few notes myself.
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I am the 6th Beacon keeper since the Destruction. I too wear
the title of Indrin, althought it seems to be more of a name
than a title... Gwaithir was I think a small ruined town
far to the north, that was overcome by the volcano and the
great desert. This couldn't be the Gwaithir of the story for
so ruined was this place that not even the evil beasts
of the desert would live near it...
I will send this to the village as soon as possible.
THE RULE OF SALMARIK
[ Librarian's note: This book was co-authored by the brilliant
scholar Gerdan and his protector Hain. Gerdan and Hain proved
themselves to be a near perfect pairing of mental and physical
prowess during their many years of adventuring. Hain's sword
guarded Gerdan's notebooks, and together they interviewed
countless individuals, friendly and malevolent, all over the
isle of Belaern while preparing this tome. ~ K.D.E. ]
The first and only true king of Belaern, Salmarik's reign
was marked by great accomplishment and violent tragedy.
He was born about 370 years before the founding of Stormfront,
one of many children on a farm in the eastern part of Belaern
(what is now the Blood Sands, but was then a rich agricultural
area). The farmers had no real leader, and traded amongst
themselves for items they needed. It was a peaceful existence,
marred only by occasional raids by the native population.
These raids were rarely violent, but often took provisions the
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farmers held in storage for emergencies, which made life a
risky, day-by-day thing.
As Salmarik grew up, resentment toward the natives increased,
and groups of men organized to defend the farms from the now
more frequent raids. Salmarik was the leader of one such group,
and was considered a highly effective captain.
Salmarik is eventually proclaimed King, and proceeds to organize
and expand his dominion to include all of Belaern from the base
of the volcano to the southern tip of the isle. He does this
in a seemingly effortless manner, and it is rumored that he is
recieving help from a drow mage named Rakmar [see book on Rakmar
Horgashax].
At an elderly age, Salmarik steps down and hands the throne over
to his eldest son, Orfod. Orfod's power is not the equal of his
father's however, and turmoil in the kingdom results. Frodo, Orfod's
younger brother, desires the throne, and war ensues [see book about
the Sons of Salmarik]. Mighty armies are mustered, but in the end,
The Rule of Salmarik [ Q to quit ]
neither son is victorious. Both father and sons vanish in a
mysterious, magical, and environmentally catastrophic event that
results in the destruction of the fertile kingdom and the creation
of the Desert.
No one knows for certain what has happened to Salmarik or his sons.
The sons have been rumored to live on in some undead form on
opposite ends of the wasteland that was to have been their kingdom.
The stories say they continue to plot to uncover the source of their
father's power, possibly some magical item that disappeared along
with Salmarik.
THE DREAD RAKMAR
[ Librarian's Note: This book was written by a Bardic Student
as part of his graduation from the collegium. He went
off-island to write it, fearing Rakmar's wrath, and returned
with the completed book several months later. ~ K.D.E ]
Long a mysterious and mostly malignant presence on Belaern,
little is known about Rakmar Horgashax. What is known is
mostly in the form of rumor, since few who see the face of
this evil live to tell the tale. The few that Rakmar allows to
return to the safety of Stormfront are reluctant to tell tales
on the mage, quite understandably fearing for their lives.
As far as can be ascertained, the drow mage has achieved
some form of immortality. He has been said to claim that his
longevity was a gift from Grimbrand, and there is little reason
to doubt this claim. It is not clear why a drow mage would
worship Grimbrand rather than Cyrcia, though it seems certain
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that such a cunning being as Rakmar does not do this without
some clear personal gain.
It is said that Sal-Karr, mighty hero of the founding of
Stormfront, met his death at the hands of Rakmar. On a journey
to the great volcano in hopes of ending the mages taunts, Sal-Karr
disappeared and was never heard from again.
He leaves his mark on most of the darkness that surrounds both
Stormfront and Belaern, all throughout the isle's long history. He
is believed to have had a hand in the formation of the deserts and
the scourge of evil beings that make their home at the base of the
Great Volcano. Longtime residents of Belaern believe Rakmar
involved in even the most minor of annoyances, such as foul weather.
It seems clear that while he is little-seen, his presence is always
felt. Those who would attempt to make clearer the murky history
of Belaern best not forget the power of Rakmar's will.
THE CONFLICT OF ORFOD AND FRODO
The two sons of King Salmarik and his wife Jiana grew up in a
rich, vital kingdom, only to be the cause of its destruction.
Even as children, the boys fought. Orfod, the elder, was a
strong, quiet boy. He excelled in physical contests, yet was
no slouch in the mental arena either. His father was pleased
and proud to have such a capable heir. Frodo was jealous of the
attention lavished on his older brother, and failed to see why
he was not as good a choice for the next ruler of Belaern. In
truth, both sons were probably equally qualified, but birthright
was a difficult tradition to defy.
When their father grew old, he stepped down and handed the throne
over to Orfod, and with the throne, Orfod took hold of the great
Rod that had symbolized Salmarik's rule. It was not known until
much later that the Rod would be the object of the death of so many,
the destruction of so much and the greed of all involved. Quiet Orfod
A Book on the Sons of Salmarik [ Q to quit ]
was not as beloved of the people as was charismatic Frodo, and popular
support rallied behind the younger brother. Orfod, fearing revolt,
banished his brother and many of his followers. Armies were mustered
and war ensued.
So it was that not long after the armies of the brothers had been
gathered that they met first on the fields of Aaveldrop, a large
area of farmlands that were a main source of agriculture to the
kingdom. It was winter now, and though the fields were the most
fertile in the land, they were dry and dead as the armies marched
upon them. The army of Frodo outnumbered Orfod's army by several
legions, but that granted Frodo no special advantage as Orfod's men
were better trained and experienced, and men aside, Orfod was the
greater tactician of the brothers. So it was that the initial battle
of the armies was won by Orfod's forces [*Librarian's note* See the
book: The Battle of the Aaveldrop Fields, for a historical account
of the battle itself].
Undaunted by the initial defeat, Frodo gathered his forces that had
retreated from the Aaveldrop Fields and commissioned many new legions
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and began their training immediately. The next battle the brothers'
armies would fight would be the last great war the Isle of Belaern
has seen, and it would change all of Belaern for all time.
Several months later, after a few insignificant skirmishes between
a few small groups, the full forces of the brothers met for their
second and last time. Set upon the flats of Metterdowne, a large
area of grassy flatlands just to the east of the Aaveldrop Fields,
the final stage of the brothers' war came to a brutal climax, resulting
in the deaths of the entire compliment of both armies and the destruction
of all the surrounding lands, changing them into what today is the
great desert of Belaern. For it was the Rod, in fact, that brought
the brothers face to face in the final moments of battle, not the
right to throne.
After all was said and done, the Rod had in fact decided upon the
outcome of the battle, being the focal point of the Battle at the
Flats of Metterdowne. The battle itself had just begun as the
first wave of Frodo's cavalry had charged into Orfod's skilled
footman, although much more successfully than the first time.
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As Orfod watched his forces battle his brothers' atop a small hill,
he was confronted by his brother.
The brothers fought for a long time, and each was wounded badly
from the others' blade. In the last few minutes of the fight, Orfod
took hold of the Rod in hopes of finally defeating his brother.
Frodo, seeing the Rod again for the first time in several months,
was suddenly filled with inescapable greed. Diving upon Orfod, Frodo
took hold of the Rod in both his hands.
So the brothers rolled upon the ground, scratching and clawing at
one another, both still with a firm hand on the Rod and desiring
it for their own. Suddenly, Salmarik appeared at the scene, having
been away for quite some time, but making his way back to find his
sons after hearing of their war and foolishness.
The brothers turned to look at their father, the two of them knelt
on the ground, bodies facing one another, both hands glued to the
Rod. Salmarik knew of the hatred in the brothers, and he felt the
greed that had taken hold of the hearts of his sons. Orfod and
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Frodo, suddenly apathetic to the appearance of their father, renewed
their struggle for the Rod with disturbing vigor. Salmarik, not
knowing how to rectify the situation, stepped into the fray and grasped
the Rod also in his hands.
It is only through accounts of wizards and sages looking into the
past that any of this is known, and what follows, is clear speculation.
It is said, however, that when Salmarik took hold of the Rod, he, too
was overcome with greed. In fact, the greed of the brothers and their
father, and the hatred between the brothers was so great that the
Rod grew aware. At that time, the Rod unleashed perhaps the greatest
single event of power the Realms has ever known, engulfing the entire
area in a blast of absolute energy and evil that destroyed the lands
of fertility on which the wars had been waged. Both the flats of
Metterdowne and the fields of Aaveldrop became lifeless deserts. All
the former habitation was completely wiped out. The brothers' forces
were utterly decimated, with only a few men of the thousands escaping death.
Salmarik, Orfod and Frodo, however, were said to be taken into the
Rod for some time and reshaped. Now it is believed that the three
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exist in these Realms as powerful undead, the desire for the Rod still
welling within distorted hearts.
THE TOWER OF ATTRITION AND THE FOUNDING OF STORMFRONT
Some thirty years ago a war galleon, lost in a
storm, ran aground upon the coral reefs on the northern side of
Belaern Isle. Five score and seventeen warriors survived and
traveled southward, exploring the lands in search of help or a
place to settle. They took with them all that they could salvage
from the wreckage and began their odyssey.
From within the ranks of the warriors arose one to lead them
ever southward in search of the help they so deperately needed,
and his name was Sal-Karr. Sal-Karr was a warrior destined to
forge his name forever in the history of what is now known as the
city of Stormfront. Leading his band of warriors, they faced the
many perils native to Belaern Isle, the climbing of the Great
Volcano and the crossing of the Desert Lands to eventually arrive
at the southern beach. It was soon thereafter that first contact
was made with the Cultists of the Malevolent Maelstrom.
During one of the hunts for food, a hunting party discovered
a tower made of pure obsidian on the easternmost side of the
A Book on the Founding of Stormfront [ Q to quit ]
Marshlands. Returning to camp they informed Sal-Karr of their
findings, who upon hearing the news, immediately gathered his
council and made way to strike up a friendship with these
newfound natives. The party was not well received, and many of
the group were slain. When Sal-Karr and the remainder of the
band returned to camp preparations were immediately set into
motion for war against the Cultists. Thus did the long battle
for the Tower begin, and in the end, it was Sal-Karr who emerged
victorious and the tower was captured. The price was a heavy
one, two score and nine were the number of warriors Sal-Karr
lost to the Cultists before it was captured. Sal-Karr, seriously
wounded during the capture of the Tower, proclaimed before his
men, that the tower would become their new home. Immediately
after this proclamation the survivors named the tower "The Tower
of Attrition" due to the heavy losses inflicted on both sides
for its capture. The leaders decided then to found a city, and
the city would be known as "Stormfront" since it was the cutting
edge of battle between the Cult of the Malevolent Maelstrom
[Malignant Storm] and the new colonists.
No one knows how old the tower actually is, except perhaps
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the Cultists who to this day still reside somewhere in the
Marshlands west of the city. It is the oldest structure
within the city and now serves as the museum of history for
Stormfront.
THE GREAT VOLCANO OF BELAERN ISLE
As a humble Scribe and Sage of Stormfront, I will attempt to make this
history of "The Great Volcano" as accurate as I possibly can. The tale that
follows is a montage of facts, rumors and legends that I have collected over
several years and put together into what I believe to be the most comprehensive
and concise history of Belaern Isles most prominate feature.
Legend has it that the Great Volcano simply "was" in the begining. A
feature that the Great God Baldrick created long ago with the world. In those
early beginings the volcano was nothing more than a mere crack in the crust of
the ocean bed. It grew, and as it grew it thrust itself up above the surface
of what is now known as the Sword Sea. As living beings began to populate its
surface it was called "The Birth Mother" and tales handed down through the
generations speak of the other five Isles born from the Birth Mother. In total
six isles were created that now comprise what is commonly referred to as Hoerk.
It was during the early surface years that the inhabitants learned of the
Fire Goddess Hoera. Hoera was a bitter and indifferent Goddess for the most
part, and required of her early worshipers the sacrifice of a young male
warrior on the eve of the new moon which must also be the date of the warriors
The Great Volcano of Belaern Isle [ Q to quit ]
birth. As time marched ever forward the worshiping population grew and
prospered under Hoera's realm, and a great city was built upon the rim of her
home, The Great Volcano of Belaern. The city was known as the "City of the
Holy."
The City of the Holy prospered and grew as the citizens continued to
please Hoera with their devotion and sacrifices. During this time Hoera the
Goddess of Fire showered gifts upon her minions and the wealthy knew great
comfort and pleasures. It was during this time that the Ash Dragon's were
domesticated and became rather popular with the rich and powerful as pets.
It was also during this time of prosperity that the Raging One, Grimbrand:
Overlord of Storms and Destruction began to court Hoera and continually drew
her attentions to himself and away from her people. While distracted, the
Minions of Hoera began to become corrupt, and oft times threw goats into her
home, clad in the finest armour, to trick her into thinking the sacrifices
were continuing. Hoera returned one day to find her power waining due to false
sacrifice, and flew into a destructive rage, a rage she learned well from
Grimbrand. In her rage, Hoera activated the Great Volcano and consumed the
entire City of the Holy for their betrayal. She then forced the volcano to
explode with the power of the sun itself and shower the southern regions with
hot, burning ash ravaging the countryside for miles and creating both the
The Great Volcano of Belaern Isle [ Q to quit ]
blood sands and open desert. To serve as a reminder, Hoera vowed that the
Great Volcano would never become inactive, and would rumble with her rage to
warn the survivors that should they betray her again she would rise again
and destroy them all.
It was after this great destruction that Hoera retreated deep within her
home and grieved over both her betrayal and the great sense of loss she had
with the destruction of her followers. She shunned the attentions of Grimbrand
and withdrew completely from the outside world. As she grieved, for reasons
Hoera was totally unaware of until it was far too late, legions of evil beings
moved into the lesser traveled areas of The Great Volcano. To this day, foul
beings wander across the surface of the volcano jealiously guarding what they
now consider their home by slaying any who would dare enter. Some say it was
Grimbrand that moved in these legions to keep watch over his love, others
whisper of a great and powerful Drow Sorceror-Warrior known as Rakmar
Horgashax who is the cause of the legions. As some would tell it, Rakmar
stole secretly into the volcano by chance, discovered Hoera in her weakened
state, and enslaved her through many cunning and magical traps. They say that
Rakmar to this day continues to rule the entire domain of Hoerk through subtile
and malicious manipulations of the enslaved Fire Goddess.
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BOOK 12 :
The book you open is brittle, scarred by mold and water
damage. Every time you turn a page you fear it falling out
or even desintegrating in your hand. It is difficult to make
out much of anything in the book as entire sections and
sometimes even chapters are unreadable. Over time and with
great care you make out elements of a story. A story about
love, jealousy, betrayal.
The morrow, twas a glorious showing of Tenewa. Such that
I fail at keeping silent the song that makes me smile so
shall I scribe it here in my journal.
It is a while before you can make out more of the text....
The priestess of Raysha blessed us, her smile so benevolent
I doubt it falsified under the routine of her duties. We
start a new life, Li'eana and I. I know not where our road
leads, I have wealth and my men who ferry my wealth from port
to port. Yet I think another life is for us, something tugs
A weathered book [ Q to quit ]
at my heart so.
Several pages are missing and even more are ruined by the
stain of water and mold.
That bastard dares call himself merchant prince! He used
the foul arts to conjure that beast that wrecked half my fleet!
For what? His demands are beyond belief! I understand this not.
Gods why do you pit this against us? We have honoured all of
you well.
You flip through more ruined pages finally settling on another
paragraph.
I cannot assail him for he is a sorceror of some power. He
keeps her sealed up in that abyssal place. I have heard
horrible whispers of his tower. I will go myself if no one
will go with me for I would rather be dead than to let him keep
her so. I must make copies of these mockeries of correspondance
he sends to me. I think he teases me with ways to free her
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from his grasp though I do not doubt he might do this just to
break my spirit.
Skipping through bits and pieces which make no sense you arrive
at the last page which is barely legible for it's scrawled
writing.
By the gods! This storm is like nothing I have ever seen!
Even Morin has not seen it's likes! Something seeks to prevent
my landing at port. We shall not make landfall I can feel it
in my bones. My love I am sorry, I am so sorry.
A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE UNICORN MOUNTAIN
When the world was new, and the lands unformed, Baldrick,
The God, seperated the the formlessness into the domains. Among
the domains, one was given to the goddess Virga.
Before the creation of the world, Virga was always seen in
the company of her beloved unicorn, whose name is lost in the eons.
The unicorn was Virga's best friend, and also her first creation.
Its mane shone with the light of a million stars, and its horn
glinted with the power of the goddess herself.
Before the mortal races came about, it was the habit of the
immortals to war among themselves.
In the last great war of the heaven, before they were given
the domains, Cyrcia and Grimbrand, in a massive assault, gravely
wounded Virga. The goddess was near death, or as close as a divine
being can come to death. And at this moment, Virga's unicorn gave
up its life to strengthen its goddess. Virga rose, and Cyrcia
fell. Grimbrand laughed and went his way. And the unicorn died.
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When Virga recieved her domain, the first thing she crafted
was the Mountain. It was made with the stuff of her unicorn, and
imbued with the magic of its horn. Thus was the Unicorn Mountain
fashioned. Around the Mountain, she placed the Unicorn Forest,
where her creatures could live in peace, and her mortals could
find shelter.
Eons passed, the races flourished, as did all the domains.
And while Cyrcia and Grimbrand grew in power, Virga grew weak.
It was time for Virga to step down into mortal affairs, else her
beloved Mountain would fall to the races of the Dark.
Looking for where to start, she spied a young elven warrior,
battling a drow wizard. The young elf's life was nearly spent,
his flesh burning from the drow's spells, all he had was his
sword to protect him. Virga was reminded of her unicorn.
Inspired, she saw how first to empower the mortals under her care.
Drawing power from her Mountain, she imbued the young warriors
sword with magic.
As bolts of magic scorched the drow, he retreated, leaving
the elf broken and bleeding, staring at his sword. The young elf
went on to found the guild of Wizard-Warriors.
A brief history of the Unicorn Mountain [ Q to quit ]
In her lair of darkness and evil, far under the ground,
Cyrcia smiled. In the last great war, she, with Grimbrand's help,
had tainted the body of the unicorn, and thus tainted the Unicorn
Mountain. Her time had come, gathering her magics about her, she
twisted the taint, and caused it to grow.
In the mortal realm, a young drow warrior stumbled apon the
village of Unicorn Cove, home of the wizard warriors. In slaying a
novice wiz-war, he took up his foes blade, and the taint, dormant
in it, responded to his hand. Thus the those of drow blood were
taken into the wizard warrior guild.
To the north of the Unicorn Cove, in the village, its true
name not known by mortals anymore, the taint was spread by
rats. It took the form of a magical plague, twisting the souls of
the mortal folk, turing them into parodies of their former selves.
The taint was strong, and it intensified, claiming the
lives of forest dwellers, as well. All over the blessed land of
Virga, evil grew, and Virga was powerless to stop it. The very
fabric of the land contained the thread of evil, and to destroy
that thread, would mean destroying the Mountain. And Virga, though
at home in her Domain, had her power diminished by the taint, unable
A brief history of the Unicorn Mountain [ Q to quit ]
to stop its growth.
And so the taint of Cyrcia runs through the Unicorn Mountain,
infecting what it will. And though the forces of Virga combat it,
it will never be completely crushed.
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