The History of Eredane

The elthedar, or elder fey as they are called now in the Erenlander tongue, were the first of the races born to the continent of Eredane. Myth holds that they were the children of the Lost Gods, blessed in their creation and favored by the celestial realm. The elder fey lived in unified majesty across Eredane, and settled many other lands beyond. Their civilization was the culmination of countless centuries of peace and high learning. They built spectacular cities that were wondrous feats of engineering and architecture. They sailed vast trade fleets and exchanged goods and knowledge with other ancient races across Aryth. They reveled in music, art, sport, and the spirits of nature. They were master historians, philosophers, and storytellers. The fey were faithful and worshiped their attentive gods and were granted great boons in return. Their priests were touched with divine magic and their powers were near absolute. Their devotion, prayers, and offerings pleased the gods and for eons the fey wanted for nothing in an idyllic world.

Sadly, even the blessings of the gods do not last forever—not when the gods are betrayed by one of their own. A shadow crept out of the darkest reach of heaven to challenge the lords of light. A great celestial war raged as the gods did battle with this dark lord and his kin. The terrible contest cracked open the sky and Aryth itself was shaken. In the end, the gods of the elthedar vanquished the Shadow and banished it to the mortal world, but at a horrible cost. The dark lord’s fall tore Aryth from the grasp of heaven, separating it forever from the celestial realm and its gods. Not only could the gods no longer serve their mortal children, their victory had condemned those children to the wrath of a merciless and evil lord. This was the time of the Sundering.

The Younger Fey

As is the nature of life, the elthedar that survived grew accustomed to their new world, and in time the fear and disasters of the years of the Sundering faded from memory. Each scattered group adapted in its way, and civilization was reestablished in new forms and new traditions. In time these new races of the alethar, or younger fey, would rise to dominate the lands of Eredane.

Those elder fey that sought refuge in the vast forests of the west took shelter in the trees and became skilled hunters and woodsmen. They courted the spirits of nature and ran with the beasts, growing lithe and agile. They learned how to control the growth of the forest and built delicate villages high above the ground. They gained a kinship with woodland creatures and became a natural part of the living forest. Over long generations, these children of the natural world became the elves.

In the absence of the once-bright flare of divine magic, the elves discovered the spark of arcane power. They nurtured it into flame and released a new and powerful magic on the world. In time, new elven masters of magic would arise to rival the most powerful clerics of their lost, ancestral past.

The descendants of the elder fey living on the very margins of Erethor learned to herd the beasts of the open plains and till the rich soil they found there. They cherished the open skies and reveled in the bright stars they could see at night. They traveled the vast, rolling hills of Eredane’s central plains, living by their lore and their skill in the hunt. These nomadic herdsmen and hunters are now called halflings.

In the east, many elthedar took refuge from the darkness of the Sundering in the high valleys of the Kaladrun Mountains. Here they grew stout and rugged like their stony surroundings. They learned to mine the riches of the highlands and to work metal into masterful tools and items of exquisite beauty. Life was often hard in the cold mountains, and these people became a noble but prideful lot. Squabbles over trivial things led to duels and clan skirmishes. Greater insult led to breaks of company and the formation of numerous isolated family lines. Many settled in the high peaks and built whole towns within the living rock of the mountains themselves. These people became the dwarves.

Others, driven into the foothills by their stubborn honor, settled along the shores of the Ebon Sea. They built small boats and stout coastal villages of brick and mortar. They learned to fish and became clever craftsmen, eventually giving rise to the race of gnomes.

In the high mountains, when the dwarven ancestors were no longer of a kind with the elder fey but long before they had taken their present form, a conflict between two neighboring bands started a terrible feud. In the end, the feud drove a group of these younger fey to break from their brothers and settle far away in the northernmost reaches of the Kaladruns. There they would be lost for thousands of years and suffer a terrible fate. There they would become a bane that would forever plague the lands of Eredane.

Alone in these high northern wastes, the splinter group of dwarves fell prey to the twisting corruption of the Shadow in the North, the essence of the fallen god. Their anger and hate for their southern brethren were fed by the dark, insidious desires of the Shadow. The people took to the black ways beneath the mountains, dwelling in cold caverns, brooding on their hate, and changing over the eons. Under the subtle, irresistible influence of the dark god, these lost fey were twisted into a horrible race of violent, nocturnal creatures that wished only to kill the children of the sun. These tragic descendants of the elthedar became the orcs.

In time, the orcs spread south and became a constant threat to the dwarven clanholds. Continual skirmishing occurred along their borders, and many great battles spawned famous ballads among the dwarves and bloody war-chants among the orcs. The orcs moved west as well, spreading into the Highhorn Mountains. There they began to threaten northern Erethor and fought with the elves.

Though the kinship between dwarves and orcs is lost to history, there were some scholars of the later ages that suspected the ancient relationship. Any sage who suggested such, however, found himself quite suddenly apologizing for his error from the wrong end of a battleaxe. There is no greater emotion in Eredane than the hatred that exists between dwarves and orcs. Their eons of bloody history make it seem impossible that any such kinship could ever have existed.

The Beasts and the Fey

The elthedar had shared their world with all manner of creatures and races, both wild and magical. When the Sundering tore divine magic from Aryth, entire species perished while many others were changed.

Many natural animals survived the disasters of the Sundering and adapted to life in the new world. They slowly outgrew their refuges and after generations they again filled the land with all forms of living things. Many feral species were transformed into greater creatures and came to be known as the dire animals. Many of the magical beasts were driven mad, their once benign spirits turned malevolent.

Sprites, fairies, dryads, and the other lesser fey became secretive creatures and even now only parlay with the elves. The highland imps that were once friendly inhabitants of the northern hills were twisted into horrible shadows of their former species, and now as goblins and their kind join the orcs in their raiding. The once noble giant-men of the Kaladrun Mountains became a reclusive and violent race, warring among themselves. Their kind, in time, gave rise to the ogres and trolls that now stalk the lonely places of the world.

The dragons were once good and noble creatures, and true friends of the elthedar. They suffered greatly when divine magic left the world. A great schism formed within dragonkind as the chaos of the Sundering turned these enigmatic beings against each other. The dragons fought an endless war for dominance one against the other and rarely concerned themselves with the ways of lesser creatures. This, too, would change, as in time the insidious call of the Shadow in the North would subvert many dragonkind, and the nobler dragons would be forced to rally with the descendants of their elthedar allies.

Dark Slumber

Throughout the thousands of years during which the younger fey crawled from the ruins of their old world and built a new one, the dark god was dormant, slumbering in a terrible undeath. He lay harboring his waxing powers, reaching the black tendrils of his evil influence ever farther to the south. Exploring. Sensing. Seeking the weak and spiritless.

The Shadow watched the younger fey grow strong again and build new civilizations. He was weak but bided his time, knowing that one day he would bend these new races to his divine will. When he discovered the outcast dwarven kin, he subverted them and twisted them to his dark designs. One day, he would need a mortal army, and what could be better than soldiers formed in his own terrible image?

His essence drifted southward like a poisonous fog, and where it found the weak of spirit or cruel of heart, it took subtle hold. The Shadow lurked on the frontiers of civilization, slowly corrupting others to his intent. He needed spies, he needed informants, agents, and pawns. He found them. The Shadow also needed worshipers, dark priests and cultists that would make vile sacrifices to quicken his return to strength. He found these as well. He needed all these things, and so quietly, subtly he worked. Over the centuries, over the eons, the dark god bred his orc hordes, corrupted his servants, and drew worshipers to his evil church. For thousands of years, the Shadow’s power slowly grew, insidious and hidden.

Dawn of the First Age

More than 8,000 years ago, an elven sorceress named Aradil ascended to the throne of the High Kings of Erethor. The history of her ascendancy is more like legend and varies by who tells the tale. Some stories claim she gained the throne by casting an unbreakable glamour over Erethor, forcing all to love her. Others say the crown was forced upon her when she defeated the orc horde of Sky Mountain with a single spell. Still others tell that she is an ageless dragon cloaked in elf form that controls the souls of the elven council with black magics. While it is true the Witch Queen is a sorceress of unmatched ability, her rise to power was due to nothing more than her noble lineage, great wisdom, and greater loyalty to her people.

Scholars would later refer to Aradil’s coronation as the advent of the First Age. Her rule ushered in a golden era for the elven people that became one of the highest points in the cultural history of Aryth. The scribe calendar of the elven court marks the year of the coronation as Year One of the First Age. It is often called the Year of the Queen, and it is difficult even for the long-lived elves to believe their queen still reigns today after 8,234 years on the throne.

A Golden Age

The prosperity of the elves eventually spread to the other races, spurring economic, political, and cultural advances across Eredane the likes of which had not been known since before the Sundering and which will sadly never be seen again.

Knowledge of the natural world, science, and magic reached such levels that it seemed elven powers might have no bounds. They used their magic to tame all of Erethor to their will. Its creatures and even its plants became minions and allies, and their bond with the forests deepened until the relationship became vital to their culture.

With their refined control of the forest, Caradul, Erethor’s greatest tree-city and the seat of Aradil’s rule, came into its own. Many outpost towns like Althorin and Eisin were founded beyond the fringes of Erethor on the western shores of the Ebon Sea and along the Felthera River. Busy trade routes were established with other major cities across Eredane and the elves made commerce with all the races of the younger fey. Elven craftsmen became renowned for the finest bows and woodwork, and elven potions and charms were sought after by merchants everywhere. The elven court established embassies and missions in the great dwarven cities and among the gnomes and halflings as well. Cultural exchange and tolerance became proud traditions.

The dwarven clanholds of the Kaladruns also experienced a time of great peace and achievement. Though skirmishes with the orcs continued, the dwarves’ own often-contentious relations were peaceful, and they welcomed the trade and cultural exchange with other races. They built the wondrous stone cities of Idenor and Calador and burrowed deep into the flanks of their mountains. Their mines and underground towns became fantastic warrens of great beauty and craft. Their skill with rock and metal was itself a new kind of magic, and their fine goods were traded across Eredane. They discovered mithral and from it built keen weapons and stout armor for fighting the orcs. They built durable tools and clever devices that were coveted trade goods, and they made jewelry of such unmatched intricacy and luster that even the most refined elves cherished its beauty.

On the open plains of central Eredane, halfling culture changed, too. Many tribes gave up their nomadic ways and settled into earthen villages, becoming able farmers. Besides harvest crops, they grew exotic spices and tobaccos that were valued commodities in the elven and dwarven realms. Many remained at least semi-nomadic and continued to herd their flocks and roam the grasslands. These nomads became expert weavers and leather workers, trading their fine cloth and leather goods for tools and elven bows.

Through their trade and cultural exchange with the elves, the halflings discovered an innate ability with the arcane and as a race became proficient users of hedge magic. To a person, halflings grew up learning simple spells and cantrips that made their hard work easier. They integrated these abilities into even the most mundane activities of everyday life and in many ways became as dependent as the elves on the use of magic.

As trade and travel between the younger fey increased, many of the gnome fishermen turned their small boats into coastal traders. The prosperity that followed meant more boats and expanded trade routes. Whole families began to abandon life ashore as the gnomes discovered a penchant for barter and commerce. Their single trade boats became family fleets, and as their coastal villages disappeared, temporary raft towns became increasingly common. Gnome barges traveled the length of the Eren and sailed far up the Felthera and Gamaril Rivers, deep into Erethor. Clever tradesmen, the gnomes turned their natural abilities with story and song to their commercial advantage. As often as not, their customers were as eager for a story or rhyme as they were to trade, and a happy tune always facilitated negotiations.

Orc raiders continued to harass frontier settlements and were a constant threat to trade caravans and other travelers. Both the dwarves and the elves were forced to establish patrols in the northern regions of their realms to keep the bloodthirsty creatures at bay. Skirmishes were common, but dwarven fortitude and elven archers always made short work of the savage creatures.

Dark Portent

In the winter of 3893, an old seer named Ressial came to the court of the Witch Queen, bearing word that he promised was of dire importance, and Aradil agreed to a private audience. Though it is not known what passed between them, or what proof he offered for his claims, the Queen emerged from the meeting in a black and terrible fury. She ordered reports from the northern patrol captains and sent them soldiers to double their numbers. She ordered the old man, a monk from a long forgotten religious order, to send for his brothers and bring them to Caradul where they were installed as secret advisors to the throne. Though the group called itself the Order of Truth, beyond the walls of the elven court, these blind prophets of lost gods became known as the Abandoned.

The monks came to the city and shared with Aradil an ancient prophecy passed down from a time before the rise of the younger fey. The portent claimed a great darkness would rise and fall across the land. It would bring with it a demon horde bent on destruction, and a firestorm of divine magic that would lay waste to Eredane. The prophecy spoke of a fallen god, a power from the ancient world, the incarnation of destruction, death, war, black magic, and evil. The portent named the darkness a true god and called it Izrador, meaning the Shadow in the North in a lost elven dialect.

For over a thousand years, the Witch Queen would watch the north with wary concern. Her dark moods, strange orders, and increasingly frequent absences troubled the court. In the end, her secret obsession and magical preparations would prove a salvation to all the people of Eredane—though sadly only a temporary one.

The Dornish Invasion

If doom and war was on the northern horizon, only the Witch Queen saw it. Had she been looking to the south as well, she might have played a hand in keeping it from coming ashore there instead.

In the spring of 3951, the Dorns landed their small ships in southern Eredane. The Dorns were a barbarous, seafaring race of humans, great lumbering creatures with almost as much hair as dwarves and even less refinement. They came from across the Pale Ocean, from the continent of Pelluria, fleeing a powerful empire that had conquered their homeland. They brought with them their warrior culture, ancestor worship, clan loyalties, and a fierce hunger for land.

They settled first along the southern coast but soon began sailing their long boats far up the Eren River. When they encountered the halfling tribes and gnome barge families, they slaughtered the men and took many women and children as thralls. They burned villages and rafts and took everything of value. When they reached the Ebon Sea, they settled its coastline and slowly abandoned their southern enclaves. They overran gnome and halfling settlements, and those they did not conquer were forced into elven and dwarven lands. The stories the refugees told of Dornish brutality galvanized the more powerful races. The elves and dwarves armed themselves and looked to the defense of their realms. War had finally come to Eredane.

The first Dornish raids against elven and dwarven outposts were devastating. The Dorns were hardened warriors before they came to Eredane, and the dwarves and elves had never fought against anything but disorganized and undisciplined orc hordes. The Dorns were neither disorganized nor undisciplined, and their individual bravery made them savage opponents. The fey learned quickly, however. They had numerical advantage and soon turned their metal craft and magic to the war effort. The elves developed battlefield spells, and their archers—once only expert hunters—became expert hunters of men. Dwarven weapons and war machines quickly proved superior to those of the Dornish invaders.

Armies were raised, as common folk became soldiers and the fey learned the arts of war. Fortresses were built on all sides and foundries pounded out weapons. War raged across the plains of Eredane, as thousands of years of peace were forgotten. Fronts ebbed and flowed. Armies attacked and overran defenders. Defenders stood fast and routed attackers. Years became decades and still the armies fought on. Often it seemed that a peace might be won, but a new offensive would fan the flames and the fighting would begin anew. A hundred years, then two, then three. For more than 300 years the people of Eredane fought over lands that were once at peace.

The Fell

Word of a new threat first reached the elven court in 4393, in the last years of the Dornish War. Initially the stories of battlefield dead rising to fight again were passed off as delusions suffered in the heat of battle. Later, as official reports claimed that dead soldiers were returning to their encampments and attacking the living, the Order of Truth saw it as a new portent of the Shadow’s growing influence and warned Aradil.

They did not understand exactly why this foul thing was happening, but they were certain it was a legacy of the death and destruction of the long war. Many of the Abandoned believed that with Aryth severed from heaven, the souls of the dead had no where to go. So many soldiers were dying and there was no way for their souls to reach the spirit realm, so they lingered in the mortal world in some kind of terrible unlife. They lingered on as the Fell.

This new horror became a bane across Eredane as the fey and the Dorns alike were forced to fend off these terrifying creatures. In addition to fighting the war, soldiers had to patrol against roving bands of undead, spreading their resources even thinner and suffering even more casualties. Quickly, as the vile threat became universal, each race was forced to change the customs with which it laid its dead to rest. Within a decade, the great flood of the Fell was reduced to a trickle by the new funeral practices, though battlefield casualties continued to rise and hunt the living. A war weary world, tired of death and undeath, looked to the promise of peace.

A New Peace

Aradil and her priest advisors feared it was the influence of Izrador that maintained the violence of the Dornish wars for so long. They could sense it in the flow of magic and somehow knew that the continued war only served to feed the growing Shadow in the North. In the end, it was a series of diplomatic emissaries from the Witch Queen to the Dornish Kings that led the way to a final peace in the year 4410. Many believed it was the threat of superior elven magics and dwarven fortitude that made the peace last. Ultimately, the centuries of warfare would prove an ominous boon for the fey. The long conflict had served to build the warrior cultures they would eventually need to fend off the rising Shadow.

Though many hundreds of years would pass before the younger fey would learn to trust the Dornish invaders, the races of Eredane settled into a long period of peace and relative prosperity. The gnomes returned to the rivers and their trading, but left the open waters of the Ebon to the Dorns. It was their trade families that were the first to begin trading with the humans. They made good profits in the deal, passing goods back and forth between the Dorns and their fellow fey. The halfling people returned to the plains but ranged far inland from the Ebon Sea. They had suffered terribly at the hands of the Dorns and would never truly trust human ways again. Eventually, as many of the old outpost towns were rebuilt and long abandoned trade routes were reestablished, economic and cultural exchange served to create true peace between the races of Eredane.

By the year 4560 of the First Age, the entire shoreline of the Ebon Sea had been settled by the Twelve Great Houses of the Dornish Kings and carved up into small kingdoms, baronies, and manorial estates. Each kingdom was its own nation, bound to the others by a complex web of fealty oaths. Though they were economic rivals, and sometimes even skirmished among themselves, against any outside threat the Dornish kingdoms remained steadfast allies.

Most became rich by dominating trade and transport over the Ebon Sea, which they now called the Sea of Pelluria in honor of their lost homeland. Many founded settlements in the unclaimed Northlands, which would eventually become large cities along the caravan routes. Dornish knights were given fiefdoms under orders to tame the frontier and protect the growing towns. As the settlements continued to expand northward, the Dorns ran afoul of the orcs and soon their knights had plenty of enemies on which to exercise their warlike natures. Eventually the Dornish knights became renowned as skilled orc-hunters, and their hatred of the vile creatures was surpassed only by that of the dwarves.

Order of Betrayal

Despite this welcome age of peace across Eredane, the Order of Truth was fearful and continued preaching wariness. They claimed the power of the Shadow in the North was waxing. They begged the Witch Queen to make preparations and to send emissaries to the dwarves and the Dornish Kings, warning them of the prophecy and recruiting them to the cause. As Aradil listened to the voices of the Abandoned, a small band of monks in the ancient monastic village of Bandilrin were lured by a different voice—an insidious shadow of a voice that promised dark salvation and the return of a god’s favor.

In the year 4705 of the First Age, the monastery of Bandilrin was a remote outpost, a quiet place of learning and meditation. One of its young members, now remembered only as Beirial the Betrayer, began hearing a quiet voice during his meditations. Thinking that the spirits of the Lost Gods might be returning to Eredane, he opened himself to the voice and was consumed. Though still weak, Izrador had enough strength to reach out from the cold north and trap a pliant soul. Slowly, over many years, Izrador worked through Beirial to gain control of the small order and corrupt it from within. In the end, the monks did not even realize they had been turned by the Shadow—all they knew was that divine power had returned to Eredane. The Order of Shadow was born.

Over the next centuries, the order worked to corrupt as many elves and non-elves as they could, and infiltrated members into secular and non-secular organizations alike. Their leadership, called legates, had sacrificed their souls to the growing will of Izrador, and their divine powers were becoming increasingly terrible. The legates carried on in secret, biding their time, increasing their influence and hoarding their power.

The Shadow Rises

For more than 700 years, the people of Eredane lived in relative prosperity. Trade was widespread, and culture and learning had entered a renaissance since the end of the Dornish War. The races were at peace, and even along the northern frontiers the orc raids had all but ceased over the preceding two centuries. This alone should have been warning enough, but even the wary monks of the Order of Truth did not heed it as such.

In the spring of 5133, the long peace was shattered as a vast orc army poured out of the north. It was supported by goblin hordes and countless other foul creatures. The long quiet along the frontier had only been a time of spawning and preparation as Izrador had bred and armed his invasion force. The attack came out of the Highhorn Mountains, and Izrador’s army drove southward towards the heart of Erethor. He knew the elves were his most powerful enemy and intended to destroy their might with his first assault.

The Witch Queen had not been idle, however. Her long obsession with the Shadow had been filled with secret preparations. She had trained many powerful battle mages and armed legions of archers with magical arrows. She had parleyed with the dire animals of Erethor and recruited them to her army. Secret emissaries had gone out to the dwarves and the orc-hunting Dornish barbarian-kings in the Northlands. These last took long convincing, but in the end they heeded the queen’s call.

In the first months of the invasion, the orc army flooded out of the mountains and poured across the plains. With the orcs came goblins, ogres, trolls, and giants. Foul demons, trapped by the Sundering and enthralled by Izrador, fought beside them. There were bands of corrupted humans and even foul elves, turned by the Order of Shadow into devoted followers of Izrador. Dark magics came before the host, the divine might of the fallen god. Frozen winds and rains of lightning helped to clear their way. Dark clerics wielding divine powers not seen since the time of the elder fey led the invaders and burned a path towards Erethor.

As it marched south, Izrador’s army sacked Nalford, Cale, and Haldred, killing everything that did not flee before them. Knowing that the elves greatest power lay within Erethor, Izrador’s army skirted the forest intending to enter it at Althorin and then force their way southwest to Caradul. Aradil and her generals did not give them the chance, and in a surprise strategy, marched their defenders to meet the orc horde on the plains of Eris Aman. The allied forces—elf, dwarf, and human—rallied about the standard of the Witch Queen and joined in a battle the likes of which had never been seen in the history of Eredane.

The tales passed down of the Battle of Three Kingdoms seem like nothing less than myths and legends. In truth, they are not fantastic enough. Divine and arcane magics clashed and rent the sky. Black clouds borne on the foul north wind covered the battlefield with poison and ice. Flights of sorcerous arrows flew so thick they blocked out the sky. Orc blood formed a great dark swamp that mixed with the rivers of red flowing from slaughtered defenders. Dire wolves ripped out the throats of ogres, and giants broke the backs of massive bears. Demons raged across the field attacking anything, mad with bloodlust. The Shadow’s legates cast their spells and hunted the Witch Queen. Aradil’s sorcerous host loosed terrible fires as she stalked Izrador’s generals. The battle was a black nightmare of clashing blades, dying screams, and freezing gore.

The Battle of Three Kingdoms lasted six days. More than 5,000 elves, dwarves, and humans died. Forty thousand of Izrador’s foul creatures were slain. The dark forces broke and fled.

The kingdoms of Eredane were victorious.

The surviving Eredane forces spent months hunting down bands of fleeing orcs, killing as many as they could find. They were also forced to destroy the countless Fell that had risen from the bloodiest battlefield in Eredane’s history. These skirmishes and battles took their own toll and many more brave warriors were killed. By winter of the next year, what remained of the orc horde had been driven back into the northern wastes, most of the undead had been destroyed, and a hard-won peace had returned to the lands.

Aradil and her host returned to Erethor, not daring to hope that the Shadow in the North had been defeated for good. In her heart, the Witch Queen knew this battle had not been the end. She knew Izrador would return.

The elven scribe calendar marks the end of the First Age with the Battle of Three Kingdoms in 5133. It opens the Second Age with the short-lived period of peace and racial trust known to Dornish scholars as the “Years of Unity.” For more than two centuries the races of Eredane lived in harmony. Their economies flourished as the frontiers were expanded and trade grew accordingly. At the behest of Aradil, the armies of Eredane were rebuilt and construction began on what would become the Fortress Wall of the Northern Marches. This vast series of defenseworks against the orc hordes would eventually span the entire continent and would take centuries to complete.

The Sarcosan Invasion

In the year 230 of the Second Age, a new threat to Eredane arrived from the Dornish homeland across the sea. The Sarcosans, a small and dark-skinned race of humans, landed a series of large invasion fleets in southern Eredane. The Sarcosans had driven the Dorns from the land of Pelluria with steel weapons and cavalry warcraft. They were a people with a long history of conquest and had been powerful enough to defeat the war-like Dorns. They quickly established a number of fortified settlements, from which would eventually grow the great cities of Hallisport, Cambrial, and Sharuun. They had brought their horses and the secret of steel to Eredane and quickly began to expand their holdings north along the Eren and into Erethor.

When the Sarcosans began to cut and burn trees in Erethor, the elven army again went to war. The battle lines stretched along the southern borders of the forest, and for almost a century the elves held off the invaders. The Sarcosans had steel and horses, but their arcana was like hedge magic to that of the elves. The dwarves sent weapons and mercenary troops, but the Dorns faltered, uncertain about facing their old enemy. In the end they betrayed the elves by letting them stand alone.

In 318 SA, at the Battle of Pethurin, elven sorcerers assassinated the five Sarcosan generals commanding the assault, allowing the fey infantry to crush the attacking army. Realizing that this strange race of forest dwellers was unbeatable within the trees and would not to be drawn from them, emissaries from the Sarcosan lords sued for peace with the elves. By the end of the year hostilities had ceased, though for many years after, the elves kept a standing army on the southern borders of Erethor.

The halflings and gnomes began limited trade with the Sarcosans that eventually grew into cultural relations that would spare them war with the invaders. As the Sarcosans moved north along the Eren, they were content to leave these odd, gentle peoples to themselves. In fact, in time, they grew to depend on halfling livestock and leather goods and the transport services of the gnome barge families.

The first dwarves the Sarcosans met were the fierce mercenaries that had fought alongside the elves. As a result, when they eventually encountered the dwarven clanholds in the mountains of the east, they were rightly cautious. After a few tense years and the occasional skirmish, it became clear that the Sarcosans had no hope of taking the mountains and left them to the stout fey. Over time peaceful relations were established, and in exchange for the secret of steel the dwarves traded the Sarcosans superior weapons and tools forged from the new metal.

The Dornish clans knew the Sarcosans had designs on the rich lands of their kingdoms. They also knew their failure to stand with their one-time allies the elves meant they could expect no help from the fey. Ultimately it was a relatively short war. From the first battle on the Plain of Erenhead to the final surrender of Hedgreg the Red, only 18 years passed. The Dornish Kings were a proud and brave lot, but they had not been a match for the Sarcosans 2,000 years earlier and did not stand long against their new invasion.

The Sarcosan colonial lords, though victorious, had not broken the honor of the Dornish Kings and were impressed with their steadfast courage and warrior nobility. Since coming to Eredane they had learned it was wiser, and more profitable, to make allies than to subjugate enemies. When the Sarcosan war ended in 853 SA, the colonial lords offered the Dornish Kings the retention of their lands and titles in exchange for oaths of fealty. With only short-lived dissent the Dorns made the oaths and Eredane again returned to peace.

A New Kingdom

For more than two hundred years the old Sarcosan Empire far to the east took tribute from the colonial lords in Eredane. As the years passed, the lords began to chafe under this yoke. In 1062 SA, a fleet of colonial warships began intercepting Old Empire vessels bound for Eredane. Those they could not capture, they burned or sent fleeing. A war of rebellion was joined, but this time the heartland of Eredane and the fey were spared.

An alliance of colonial Sarcosans and their Dornish oathmen waged a bloody sea war along the Eredane coast, from Sharuun to Landfall. Hundreds of ships were destroyed on both sides, and savage ground battles were fought when Old Empire troops came ashore. Ultimately, the Empire was simply too distant to respond quickly to the needs of its war fleets or to readily supply its soldiers. The crushing defeat of an Old Empire armada at the island fortress of Stormhold in 1112 SA finally ended the conflict. It was a brutal war that lasted almost 50 years. When it was over the Old Empire had relinquished claim to its colonies in Eredane and the Sarcosan lords were freed to forge their own destiny.

The Sarcosans and Dorns had become kin, born in the blood of battle. When the war ended, a great meet was held, called the Conclave of Kings. At this gathering, the Sarcosan kalif accepted the fealty of the Dornish Kings and founded a unified human nation, the Kingdom of Erenland. Alliance and intermarriage gave rise to royal families that could trace their lineages to both the Sarcosan nobility and the Great Houses of the Dornish clans. Under the Erenlander king, loyal princes of these families served as advisors, governors, ambassadors, and generals. After centuries of strife, mistrust, and war, a unified human nation ruled peacefully over the heartland of Eredane.

For almost 800 years, the people of Eredane lived in peace. Not since before the Dornish invasion more than 3,000 years earlier had the lands known a longer time without war. The bonds between nations strengthened and trade flourished. The fleets of Erenland established routes to distant continents and explored the wider world. Humans settled throughout the heartland, building countless towns and villages, even homesteading far to the north of the Sea of Pelluria into lands once held by orcs. The magic of the elves reached sublime heights and their scholars followed new ways in science and philosophy. The dwarves expanded their subterranean world and turned many of their ancient holdfasts into cities that were engineering masterworks. The halflings and gnomes continued in their ways, living on the margins of Erenland and prospering in their commerce with the humans.

Quietly, Aradil kept a lonely vigil against the north. Old treaties and new accords kept the Fortress Wall in good repair and ready against the Shadow, but she feared the great fortresses might not be enough to protect the lands if Izrador rose again.

The start of the second war with Izrador in the year 1920 SA was not a sudden, surprise assault by a massive army as it had been in the first. Instead, it began with dozens of small attacks, probing sallies by orcs and savage bands of human horsemen, all along the northern frontier. Where resistance was strongest Izrador’s forces retreated, and where they could they pressed the attack. Like the thrusts of a dozen blades, the armies of the Shadow forced their ways into the lands of Eredane, stabbing at the Fortress Wall and in many places cutting beyond.

Many fronts formed across the frontier and the defenders were spread thin. The elves fought a stealthy woodland war as the orcs and their minions pushed deep into northern Erethor, burning the forest as they advanced. The humans, now armed with steel and astride massive horses, charged into battle on the open steppes. The mountain warrens of the dwarves were formidable fortresses and allowed them to deploy in secret and set bloody ambushes for the enemy. Many halflings and gnomes took up arms as scouts and couriers, and many others worked behind the front to keep the southern supply lines open and stocked.

No single battle came near the level of carnage and destruction of the Battle of Three Kingdoms in the first war, but there were far more, and in the end they took a much greater toll on the lands of Eredane. Millions died, soldiers and civilians alike. Countless settlements were razed, never to be rebuilt, and much of northern Erethor was lost to flame. Thousands of battlefield casualties rose as Fell and stalked the land, adding to the fear, chaos, and death of the war.

The dark magics cast against Eredane’s defenders during the second war were far more subtle and ultimately more effective than they had been in the first. Freezing weather broke their bodies as well as their spirits. Wasting diseases appeared and spread like no natural sickness. Glamours of mistrust and fear turned defenders against each other and broke their wills. Vile summonings corrupted and poisoned vast tracts of land and set loose demonic forces that would continue to stalk Eredane for centuries to come.

In the year 1948 SA, the outcome of the war balanced on the edge of a knife. Then everything seemed to be lost, as flights of ancient dragonkind, allied with the dark will of Izrador, flew out of the north and began ravaging the Fortress Wall. For several weeks it seemed the end had come and the war would be lost. Thousands died and fortresses that were not destroyed were overrun by orc hordes. Then, when defeat was all but certain, a warm southern gale heralded the arrival of victory. Another host of raging dragons unexpectedly appeared across the many fronts and savagely joined battle against their traitorous kin. The physical and magical destruction the dragons wrought as they attacked and counterattacked was almost as great as that from the rest of the war combined. Death was everywhere, and chaos was absolute.

When it was over, both sides were broken. The orc hordes had scattered to the north and the only dragons to be found were the broken bodies of their dead. The Fortress Wall had stood, but many of its keeps lay smashed and in ruins. The weary armies of Eredane quietly returned to their homelands to lick their wounds and pray to the Lost Gods that Izrador would not rise again.

Dawn of the Third Age

The elven scribes close the Second Age of Eredane with the second war with Izrador, 1,000 years ago. The deaths of so many people, the total destruction of so many cities, and the utter desolation of so much land proved more than the old world could bear. In the aftermath of the war, the Third Age would dawn as a dark time of collapsing political alliances, economic decay, and increasing racial isolation.

The elves, knowing that Izrador was sure to return, struggled to hold the people of Eredane true to the cause. As time passed, this became impossible as the memories of the shorter-lived races faded. Aradil continued to weave arcane defenses in Erethor and maintain the elven keeps of the Fortress Wall, but her will alone would not be enough to spare the world.

The dwarves suffered great losses in the war and when it was over they still could not find rest. Long after the conflict ended, they found themselves still fighting with orcs and other foul creatures that had found their ways into the southern reaches of the mountains during the war. Slowly, the dwarves withdrew from the other races and eventually would trade only through their gnome cousins.

Erenland fractured as many of the old Dornish Kings broke fealty with their lords and declared their independence. The breakaway states soon began fighting among themselves and plunged the Northlands into civil war. The attrition of its military might and dwindling trade meant that southern Erenland did not have the resources to prevent the secession. Other clans of the Old Kings declared their independence and the nation threatened to come apart at its historical seams.

Despite efforts to maintain treaties and allegiances, the nations of Eredane sank further into isolation. Efforts to rebuild the Fortress Wall were limited, and as alliances broke and economic and military resources were needed elsewhere, the reconstruction all but stopped. Eventually, efforts to garrison the keeps would falter, and in the end the Wall would become a useless relic of a lost era.

A thousand years passed, and a darkness fell across the lands of Eredane fed by the fell Shadow of Izrador. His power had waxed again and this time he would not be defeated.

The third rise of Izrador was an insidious and subtle thing, cloaked in the dark age that had already conquered Eredane. The first attacks of the war were not military assaults on some battlefield. Instead, they were the destruction of trust and the corruption of men.

Across Erenland, agents of Izrador offered dark promises, spread black magics, and made terrible threats. They corrupted the hearts of once-valiant knights and offered dark powers to once-noble princes. Bands of savage Northmen, long turned by the Shadow, moved south and settled in nomadic camps along the frontier. Orcs squatted in the ruins of old Fortress Wall keeps and ancient cities left by the last war with the Shadow. They parleyed with traitorous humans and traded magic and gold for steel and black promises.

Elven emissaries sent to the princes of Erenland met with promises of alliance, but promises made by a realm too weak to keep them. Similar missions to the dwarven clanholds were often intercepted by agents of the Order of Shadow. Those that got through had difficulty gaining entrance to the underground dwarven cities. The words of those that did often fell on the deaf ears of paranoid dwarven leaders, weary from a thousand years of fighting the minions of Shadow that had stalked their mountains since the last war. The dwarves had little help to offer and few soldiers to spare outside their own lands.

In the most damning victory of this quiet war of corruption, four great heroes of the age were secretly turned by the Order of Shadow and swore allegiance to Izrador. In exchange for their souls, the dark lord betrayed them. He transformed them into the Night Kings, damned creatures of terrible supernatural power. Sowing fear and despair among their peoples, the Night Kings helped to crush the weakened coalitions that remained in Eredane. When Izrador’s attack finally came, the alliance of races shattered like dry bone.

When Izrador’s armies again poured across the frontier in 897 TA, there was nothing to stop them. Led by the Night Kings, the Shadow’s hordes drove southward crushing what little opposition they met. For the first time, Izrador’s forces crossed the Sea of Pelluria. As the host made the crossing, it was joined by a flight of allied dragons. They raided and burned ahead of Izrador’s ships, torching the small fleet sent against them and culling the hastily assembled defenders that waited on the southern shore.

A desperately rallied force of elves, humans, and a few weary dwarves made a final stand on the coast of the Pelluria. The vigilant elves were steeled and ready, but the humans were unprepared and fractious. The dwarves were battle hardened but had haunted souls and were simply too few. Elven scholars refer to this engagement as the Last Battle, but that name lends it too much glory. Izrador’s forces came ashore like a black tide and flooded over the defenders. The elves fought hard but were forced to retreat into Erethor. The humans suffered terrible casualties, and broke and fled to the south. The dwarves fought like demons and died to the last warrior.

The march down the Eren took only months, and by midwinter the Shadow held all the heartland of Eredane from the Northland Frontier to the Kasmael Sea. Those that resisted were quickly crushed and with hardly a dying whimper the human lands fell. With the might of the elves and dwarves now divided, the forces of the Shadow turned their wrath toward the lands of the fey. Orc hordes marched east into the foothills of the Kaladruns, and in the west the borders of Erethor began to burn.

The Last Age

The fall of Erenland marked the end of the Third Age, ushering in this time of war, death, and despair that scholars ominously call the Last Age of Eredane.

The human lands have been fully subjugated. The last human insurgents are being systematically eliminated by agents of the Shadow. The old principalities of Erenland have been divided among the legates of the Order of Shadow who rule through corrupt human pawns. Travel has been restricted. Trade with the fey, literacy, and the use of magic of any kind have become capital crimes. Those gnomes or halflings that failed to escape to the mountains or into Erethor have been enslaved, and a pogrom against the remaining fey is underway. Any elves or dwarves foolish enough to be discovered in the conquered lands are killed on sight.

As Izrador’s eastern armies move deeper into the Kaladrun Mountains, the dwarves retreat into their ancient holdfasts. Their savage warriors and clever engineers turn every pass, hall, tunnel, and mine into a brutal killing zone. They set murderous traps, lay bloody ambushes, and make crippling raids. Every advance of the invaders is earned at a deadly cost, and the last-stand frenzy of the dwarven warriors has turned them into a terrible foe of which orc soldiers now grow truly afraid.

In the west, the forest of Erethor itself stands against the hordes of Izrador. Through her avatars, Aradil fights at the head of her armies, steadfastly holding the invaders at bay, though in her deepest heart she despairs for her people. The Whispering Wood gives warning of orc advances, as elven archers and battle mages cast death on the invaders. Patrols are slaughtered by dire animals, which then vanish into the forest. Enchanted thickets of poisonous plants trap Izrador’s troops, yet readily part for elven forces.

Despite the resolve of these fey defenders, they have ultimately lost the war. They are hopelessly outnumbered, and for every orc killed three more join the fight. Food, weapons, and equipment from the human realms supply the enemy lines. The dark magic of the legates supports their advances and the elemental forces of dragons support their attacks. Battle by battle, skirmish by skirmish, soldier by soldier, the armies of Izrador drive the elves and dwarves deeper into their refuges, taking heavy tolls on their numbers and their hope.

It in now the 99th year of the Last Age. A shadow covers the land. Faith has fled. Freedom is lost. Hope is gone. The dark god has risen and the world is his. Who will stand against him?