A History of the Elves of Ellyonia

 

The Elves are one of the Elder Races that ruled the mortal world long before the coming of Mankind. They are one of the ancient Faerie Folk and along with the Dwarves, Gnomes, Cewri and other races they spread out across the surface of the earth. They built mighty civilisations, fought and traded with each other and eventually, the still-young world settled into a long period of peaceful coexistence. For innumerable cycles, the Elves chose to live their lives along the edges of the great forests and woodlands that shaped their world. Tending to the trees and cultivating gardens and orchards, they took only what was needed and replaced it with saplings and seeds to promote new life. And so it was that the forest and the gods and spirits that embraced its shaded canopy grew tolerant of the Elves and for a long time afterwards a period of paradise blossomed.

 

The Coming of the Elves     

 

The Great Forest the Elves vowed to preserve existed aeons before their arrival. Created by the Bael’Vanna—the Gods born in the Great Void Beyond the Stars—it had long ago spread its vast bowers across the lands of the earth. A network of sentient life that communicated far and wide using the lines of power that crisscrossed the world. The massive trees—that grew in those days—learned how to tap their root systems into these ley lines and so became aware of other such places. Places far and wide, filled with wondrous creatures both great and small, creations of the ancient gods and spirits that cared for the world in those halcyon days.

 

It was two of those god/spirits, Ophiel, Goddess of Birth and Cernos, Lord of the Forest that became clandestine lovers and from that secret tryst, a race of children was born and set among the other creations of the Bael’Vanna.

 

The first of the Elven race was born.

 

Although the other Gods of the Pantheon were unhappy with the addition of yet another race to those already populating the lands they had created. They realised that; save from exterminating the entire bloodline—something they were entirely capable of; should the need arise—there was little they could do. If the Elves could live out their natural lives and prove themselves worthy of a place among the Faerie Folk, then they could remain. It would be down to Ophiel and Cernos to ensure their offspring did not bring about the wrath of the Gods by causing them difficulties which would need their intervention.

 

And so the Elves were allowed to continue and thrive.      

          

Over time they split into different fractions and went their own ways. Colonies of Elves were established throughout the land. Driven by their desire to explore their vast and varied surroundings they soon spread far and wide. Some became seafarers, spreading across the wide Emerald Expanse to populate distant lands. Others took to the plains and mountains to seek out new importunities in the vast uncharted world that lay beyond the borders of their homeland. Over time these far-flung colonies became isolated from each other and many cast aside the old ways and began anew.

 

But one of those fractions, the Elves of Ellyonia, self-proclaimed guardians of the forest and defenders of the natural world, saw themselves as the true children of the woodland gods that gave them life. Noble and protective by nature they built their vast woodland cities and outlying villages with the blessing of the huge sentient trees. All the trees asked in return was that they continued to safeguard the forest and its inhabitants.

 

For countless millennia the destinies of the Elves of Ellyonia, the trees and the forest gods and spirits would remain intertwined

 

The Rise of the Daemons

 

But the Faerie Folk were not the only races to inhabit the earth in those far off days.

 

When the world was not yet properly formed, a huge ship of stone smashed into the planet, it broke through the cooling mantle and embedded itself deep within the earth's molten interior. For countless millennia, the seeding ship had travelled from its home in the far reaches of the universe. It had seen the birth and death of many suns on its journey across the galaxies. Then a chance encounter with the terrible darkness that lurked between the stars had hurled it off course and sent it spinning out of control into our solar system.

 

For an eternity, the ship lay buried beneath the surface. For a ship designed for the violent extremes of space travel, it lay untouched by the boiling molten rock that encircled it. All around it, the earth began cooling and as it did so the first signs of life started to appear on the surface. 

 

Then in the shadows deep within the vast ship, something stirred. Creatures placed in stasis to survive the rigours of a long space journey awoke. Creatures of an ancient star-spanning race.

 

They bided their time, rebuilding, spreading out beneath the earth's surface. Turning the ship and its surroundings into a great vast underground city. For a while, they remained concealed within the confines of their city plotting their next move. Then, using their star-crossed magic and technology, they opened portals which allowed them access to the surface world. This brought them into contact with the first of the Faerie Races that would rule the earth before the coming of man. 

 

Chief among these were the Elves.

 

It would be the first King of the Elves of Ellyonia, Akyri Elyarus who led his Hunters against this new threat. A terrible war broke out between them and the creatures; a war of magic and ancient star-crossed sciences. After many years of relative peace, the Elves were unused to battling such powerful foes and at first, these Daemons gained the upper hand. Luckily the Daemon creatures were few and the Elves were many. With the help of his champion Lachlan Torqe, King Elyarus sought out the portals, and one by one; destroyed them. The beings from beyond the stars were forced back into their underground city. It was Lachlan Torqe himself, who approached the Gods hoping to learn their secrets and forge a magical weapon that he could use to end the war once and for all. Seeing the danger of allowing the Daemons to taint the paradise they had created, a pantheon of Faerie Gods agreed to surrender part of their power, the seven mystical gems known as the Key Stones. Lachlan Torqe took these stones and journeyed to the Daemon City. He used the magic of the Key Stones, to create an impenetrable barrier that enclosed the city. Its great doorway—the only way in or out—was sealed with chains of mystical energy.

 

With time, The Chained—as they came to be known—were consigned to the Elven histories and forgotten.

 

Once again a period of peace settled over the Great Forest and the Elves went back to tending the lands and recovering from the losses incurred in the war. But Elyarus vowed that never again would the Elves of Ellyonia be caught unprepared for war. He appointed a Grand Commander of the Elven Armies to the Elven Council. It would be his responsibility to assemble and train an army of Hunters that could withstand any further threats that should arise.      

 

Bedic Aquilan would be the first to take up the mantle of Grand Commander. He formed an army the likes of which had never been seen before in the Elven realms. Archers and well-equipped infantry formed the backbone of his legions. With Spellcasters especially trained in the art of warfare and cavalry made up of the finest Wolf Riders to back them up, the Elves were ready for anything the world could send against them.    

  

But with the ongoing peace and only rare incursions by bands of Trolls. It would be many years before Bedic Aquilan could test his metal against any foe worthy of the name.

 

The Troll Wars

 

The Trolls of Mor’Cirith had long been a thorn in the side of the Elves. Small bands of Trolls had long raided deep into Elven territories mainly to scavenge supplies and steal away the trees to construct their great lodges. Sometimes, when needed, they would even enslave Elves and transport them to their settlements to carry out the tasks they deemed too menial for themselves. But these intermittent raids by ragged bands of interlopers did not trouble the Elven army too much. Most were driven off with a few well-placed arrows and spear points.

 

But as time passed the Elves began to notice an increase in these incursions. The Troll Warbands grew in size, the attacks became more ferocious. It was soon apparent that the Trolls were growing ever bolder in their invasions of the Elven stronghold.

 

Unbeknown to King Elyarus, Bedic Aquilan and the Elven Council the mighty Troll Warlord, Vordon Drell had secretly been gathering the splintered tribes of Mor’Cirith into a great Warhorde that numbered in the tens of thousands. His aim was to cut a path of destruction into the Elven heartland and destroy their main city of Evergreen. With that, the rest of their kingdom would follow and the Elves would fall.

 

The Elven Watch set to guard the Scarstones, the mountainous borders between Mor’Cirith and Ellyonia soon found themselves under siege and in danger of being overrun. Warning beacons were lit and news of the invasion finally reached the Council.

 

Bedic Aquilan readied the army and led them out to meet the Troll Warhorde on the Plains of Kharamunz. At first, the sheer ferocity of the larger, more powerful Trolls, pushed back the Elven lines and in places even broke through and continued their advance towards Evergreen. No quarter was asked, nor given, and the bloody war raged on for days. But Bedic Aquilan was well versed in the art of warfare. He had not committed all his warriors to the battle. He held part of his army in reserve and now called upon them to fall upon the invaders and push them back to the borders and beyond.

 

King Elyarus—against the judgement of the Council—chose to lead the second wave of the army into battle. Caught by surprise the Trolls began to retreat, harried all the way by Elven arrow and the swiftness of the Wolf Rider attacks. But the counter-attack was not without its tragedies. Elyarus was ambushed and slain by Vordon Drell himself, an event that would prove to be almost the last act of the brief and costly war.

 

With the Troll Warlord defeated and pushed back into Mor’Cirith— where he would lick his wounds and begin to plan anew. The Elves withdrew to Evergreen to commit the old King into the arms of the Bael’Vanna and choose an heir.

 

Lowr Galadre and the Second Troll War

 

With the fallen King and his Queen, Sopherial, having no suitable successor—the First Son, Prince Eldor, was too young to take on the mantle of King. It fell to the Council to choose one of their own to take on the title of the Regent King until Eldor came of age.

 

Lowr Galadre, The First Minister, was chosen. His first task was to rebuild the ravaged army and strengthen fortifications along the borders. A series of great fortresses were built along the summit of the Scarstones and with the forces holding them doubled, the Elves were satisfied the Trolls would not be a problem again.

 

Or so they thought.

 

Deep in Mor’Cirith within the towering Spires of Baragzar, Vordon Drell seethed with madness and anger. The defeat at the hands of the Elves had cost him dearly. The Chieftains of the other tribes he had drawn into the battle plans were unhappy with his failure to carry out his grand ambitions. It had cost them many warriors and now the Elves were on guard and preventing even the smaller scavenging raids. With their supply routes cut off and winter in the highlands fast approaching. Times would prove difficult for the Troll Nation.

 

But Vordon Drell had a plan. This time he would have help.

 

He summoned the Troll Shaman, Fromir Bloodgrim and bade him forge a demonic pact with the Dark Gods. For their help in conquering the Elven Nation, he promised them unlimited Elven souls and swore his undying allegiance to the worshipping of the Great Darkness Beyond.

 

Bloodgrim called other mages to his cause and the black coven began to weave their unspeakable ritual of magic that would allow the Dark Gods to access the Faerie Realms. First to answer the call was Nazuumma the Scythe Lord. The Dark God and his monstrous thralls fell upon the citadels that guarded the passages through the Scarstones. Even with the extra protection, the fortresses could not hope to holdout against such an attack and one by one they fell beneath the onslaught.

 

With the watchtowers destroyed there was nothing to stop the Trolls and their abominable deities. With Klaemosus the Chaotic and Belrakan Embersworn, called forth from the Black Realm to join their ranks, they swarmed across the Plains of Kharamunz, murdering anything in their way. Having feasted to the sweet Elven souls and with the promise of many more ahead, the Dark Gods and the Troll Warhorde pushed on until they were within reach of the Elven Cities and the Great Forest.                 

 

Believing the enemy safely locked away in their own lands and the fortresses guarding the Scarstones giving them plenty of warning of any attack, lulled the Elves into a sense of false security. So fast had the attackers crossed the plains that it was almost too late before they realised what was happening.

 

The first wave of the Dark Lord’s loathsome servants were at the edge of the forest almost before Bedic Aquilan could rally the army. With the silent screams and the smell of burning woodlands assailing their senses, the Elven army marched out to confront the violators. Volleys of arrows cut into the first lines of the attackers driving the back from the tree line and Spellcaster magic scattered the remainder back into the plains. But it was then that Bedic Aquilan—from his vantage point, high in the trees—saw the full force of the legion assembled against them. Vordon Drell’s mighty Warhorde, numbered in the tens of thousands, spread from one horizon to the other. Among them stalked the monstrous blackened forms of the Dark Gods. Bedic’s eye narrowed in anger as he watched the Gods of Corruption scoop handfuls of captured Elves and feed them into their black maws. It was then that the Grand Commander knew his forces would not be able to stand against such a terrible threat.

 

Just as Lachlan Torqe had done almost a hundred cycles beforehand, Lowr Galadre, as acting King, ventured deep into the forest to ask the Gods for help in overcoming this latest catastrophe. The Gods already sensed the blight that was assailing the Great Forest. With each swing of Nazuumma’s foul scythe, the trees screamed in silent pain. Great scars of burning woodland filled the skies with smouldering ash wherever Belrakan Embersworn strode the earth.

 

The King met with the assembled Gods and Spirits in the midst of the Tanglewood, an almost impenetrable area of the Great Forest where no one except the Gods had ever set foot. In the Glade of the Forsaken, the Gods argued over whether to once again help the Elves with their latest troubles. Some declared that it was only since they had let the Elves become entangled in their lives that these problems had arisen. It would be better to end their alliance and let things take a more natural course. But others insisted that it would be disastrous to follow such a direction. The Elves, they said, had long protected the forest lands and its inhabitants. The world was changing for the worst, and without that protection, they would soon fall prey to the darkness that had started to challenge the ways of the Faerie Realms.

 

The Gods argued long into the night and Lowr Galadre began to doubt the wisdom of asking them for their help. With each passing cycle, the fate of the Elves and the Great Forest steadily worsened.  Unless they made a decision soon, their hesitation would cost them all dearly.

 

Finally, a deal was struck. Cernos, Lord of the Forest, unwilling to see his children cast aside by the Gods failure to compromise, set forth a plan that would hopefully suit all. For the Gods assistance, the Elves would no longer be able to call upon them for help in their times of need. The dissenters nodded their agreement. In return, the great sword called the Moonblade would be Galadre’s to wield, its keen edges and magical properties more than a match for Vordon Drell and his Dark Gods.

 

With the Moonblade strapped across his back, King Galadre thanked the Gods and raced back to Evergreen. The battle raged on, the enemy besieging the walls of the city and threatening to breakthrough. Galadre, Bedic Aquilan and the Elven Council gathered the army and made plans to repel the invaders.

 

At dawn of the following day, King Galadre led the army from the city to confront the Troll Warhorde and their Dark God allies. But the Elves did not fight alone. Secretly, Cernos had committed the Nephilis, ancient tree spirits that inhabit the woodlands, to aid his children in their fight. Swift and savage, the creatures fell on Troll and God alike. Caught between the well-trained Elves and an unstoppable force of nature, the enemy broke and ran, the forest floor littered with their dead and dying.

 

Even so, Nazuumma the Scythe Lord was not yet ready to take his leave of the battle. His taste for Elven souls was not yet sated. He turned, his scythe swinging towards the Elven lines. King Galadre appeared, the Moonblade, ablaze with other-worldly light, flashed upwards and parried the dark weapon. Galadre swung again and Nazuumma screamed in unearthly pain as his arm was severed from his body.

 

Emboldened by the sight of the Dark God, wounded and fleeing the battlefield, the Elves pushed forward, driving the Trolls back into the Scarstones. Then, just as King Elyarus had been ambushed and killed all those cycles ago. So to did Vordon Drell find himself trapped by the Elven army. King Galadre stepped forward and with a swing of the Moonblade cleaved the Warlords head from his shoulders.

  

Defeated, the Trolls filled back through the mountainous passes into Mor’Cirith. The Dark Gods angered at being drawn into the battle took their wrath out on the tribes that had summoned them. Whole lodges were wiped from the land before Fromir Bloodgrim was able to banish them back to the black abyss from whence they came.

 

Against the odds, the Elves were victorious. They tended the forest, replanting and repairing the damage caused by the invading hordes. In the heart of Evergreen, deep beneath the Prime Tree, Queen Sopherial’s progeny matured and grew strong enough to replace the losses of the war. They rebuilt the mountain fortresses and set to watch their borders, this time putting the lesson they had leant, into practice. Of the Nephilis, nothing more was seen or heard, with the battle won they retreated back into the deepest parts of the forest to await Cernos’s call.  

 

Time passed. The forest recovered and long periods of peace and rebirth settled once again over Ellyonia.  

 

Eldor Elyarus, The Golden Age and Treachery.

 

It was during this time that Lowr Galadre stood down and Eldor Elyarus came of age and took up the mantle of King. Under Lachlan’s tutorage, Eldor became a popular King and the Elven lands now enjoyed a golden age. After a long period of mistrust, treaties were once again forged with the Dwarf Homelands of Dhurdir, and trading between the two Empires began again. Timber was harvested from the forests and traded for Dwarven iron and steel smelted in their great forges. The new King also sent out his emissaries to visit the other far-flung outposts of the Elven Empire.

 

It was on one of those overseas visits, that news of the earliest encounters with primitive humans, reached the Elves. In the jungles and grasslands of the far south, the first Man-apes descended from the trees and began their long evolution towards the species that would one-day command dominion of the Earth. But it would be countless millennia before that time came, and to the detriment of the Faerie Races, they would ignore the migration of these tribal peoples until it was too late to prevent them building their own powerful empires, and sending the world of the fay into exile.

 

Eldor Elyarus reigned long and fair for over a thousand cycles. When his mother, Queen Sopherial, passed from the world, he joined with Lithial Arwenwel and made her his Queen. Their children were many and strong.

 

With an ageing Bedic Aquilan still commanding the army, and Lowr Galadre, reverted to his old duty as First Minister, Ellyonia was in capable hands. Having no wars to fight, King Elyarus turned to the pursuit of knowledge. The emissaries he had sent out into the world were to gather information on the places they visited. Spellcasters were dispatched to learn the ways of magic practised by other races and discover the strengths and weaknesses of their armies and defences. Upon their return to Evergreen, the knowledge was studied and debated by the highest scholars in the land. Scribes recorded their findings in scriptures that were stored in the great Elven library. Elyarus was determined that should the peace be broken then the Elves would not be found wanting.

 

But while the lasting period of peace was celebrated by the majority of the nation, there were those who grew tired of the inactivity. They feared the Elves would become apathetic and prone to making mistakes that would cost them dearly. The Kings quest for knowledge was bringing them to the notice of other races. Races that had their own agendas, and could, like the Trolls before them, covet the riches and lands that the Elves possessed. Certain factions within the army were frustrated with the prolonged inaction and sought a way to bring back the thrill of battle.

 

Traris Rilitar, second only to Bedic Aquilan in the Elven army, summoned a cadre of his closest and most trusted officers. They convened in secret at the Inn of the Black Chalice. A Spellcaster, Silath Belanore, sympathetic to their cause, was in attendance.

 

The King was scheduled to meet with the Dwarf Ambassador, Thidri Rostison and a party of diplomats. Dwarf magic was very rare and seldom used. But Silath Belanore was one of the scholars responsible for the study of the magics brought back from other realms. The Spellcaster secreted himself in the council chambers and waited. Once the meeting was under-way, he wove a deadly Dwarven spell he had learned and sent it at the King and the Elven Council. Eldor Elyarus, Bedic Aquilan, and other council member died almost immediately. Suspicion fell instantly on the Dwarves, and Traris Rilitar—who promptly took control of the Elven forces—had them arrested and after a brief investigation had them all, save Thidri Rostison, executed. The Dwarf Ambassador was sent back to Dhurdir. With him went the heads of the diplomats and a declaration of war. With the Elven council assassinated, there were very few who would question why the Dwarves would carry out such an unspeakable act. And why Traris Rilitar was so determined to lead them to war.

 

The Dwarf Wars

 

Uthar Skurbrand, like his father Dwari before him, ruled the Dwarf Race with an iron fist. Immensely proud and principled the Dwarf nation reacted to the accusations with disbelief. They could see no reason for their Ambassador to assassinate the Elven King and his Council and suspected forces beyond their understanding were behind the act. But seeing Uthar’s attempts at a reconciliation rebuffed at every turn, the Dwarves steeled themselves for war.

 

Meanwhile, the Elves, believing the lies fed to them by Traris Rilitar and his swiftly elected Council, made their plans and put them into action.

 

A vast fleet set sail from the Elven ports of Argundur and Evyrfell to attack the Dwarf anchorage at Gathuraz. Simultaneously the watchtowers that warded the Plains of Isashmar were strengthened and Traris Rilitar—now with the entire military under his control—prepared to lead them against the mighty Dwarf stronghold of Khathuram. But in his eagerness to start the war, Rilitar underestimated firstly, the rigours of traversing the Plains of Isashmar and secondly, unlike the Trolls whom they had fought over a thousand cycles earlier, the Dwarves were better prepared to fight a prolonged war. Skilled smiths in both stone and metalwork, they built their ramparts high and their weapons and armour honed and strong.

 

The first part of Rilitar’s plan went well. The Elven fleet besieged Gathuraz and dispatched Hunters to prevent the Dwarves retreating into the mountains. Not that the Dwarves of Gathuraz had any thoughts of fleeing their City. Their warehouses were well stocked with supplies enough to last several seasons. Not that it would have troubled the Cities citizens, for thanks to the Underpaths, there were other ways in and out of Gathuraz that the Elves knew nothing about. So the siege would last for over twenty seasons. The Elves—their fleet controlling the seas—were unable to breach the towering battlements of the City. But they were confident the Dwarves were trapped and it was just a matter of time before they surrendered.

 

Out on the Plains of Isashmar, Traris Rilitar massed his army along the border and sent them to attack Khathuram, capital of Dhurdir. It would prove a foolish stratagem. A forced march under the hot sun that beat down on the plains, sapped the strength of even the well trained Elven army. By the time they reached the walls of Khathuram, they were in no condition to engage the well regimented Dwarf army.

 

Upon hearing this, Uthar Skurbrand led his Troopers out onto the plains and attacked the exhausted Hunters. Under the onslaught, the Elves were pushed back. Their commanders tried to rally them, but it proved futile. The heavily armoured Dwarf Troopers smashed into their lines and soon thousand of Hunters lay dead and dying. The remainder fled back across the plains to the safety of their borders.

 

For countless seasons the fighting continued, to and fro across the Plains of Isashmar it raged. With no quarter asked or given. Again and again, Traris Rilitar threw his army at the Dwarf defences. The Dwarves drew a line in the sand and determined that no Elf should pass. As the war escalated even further, Traris Rilitar crowned himself King and sent a large expedition force from his fleet at Gathuraz. The idea was to march through the mountains and attack Khathuram from the rear. Once again Rilitar, in his arrogance, seemed to have underestimated the lay of the land. The Elves of Ellyonia were forest dwellers, the snow-laden peaks and passes of the Dhurdir would prove too much for them. Many found themselves trapped in the huge snowdrifts that scoured the peaks of the Dwarf homelands. Hundreds died even before an arrow was fired. With the failure of the expedition force, the newly crowned King withdrew his forces to a safe distance and began to plan anew.

 

It was during this period of calm that Lowr Galadre returned to the Elven Lands. When Eldor Elyarus was crowned King, Lowr had retired from his duties as First Minister and made the decision to venture out into the wider world and explore for himself some of the wonders that he had heard of in his time with the Elven Council.

 

He had journeyed to the far side of the world when news of the war finally reached his ears. After travelling for many cycles he finally arrived back in Ellyonia. Unable to believe what he was seeing, Lowr decided to remain concealed from the eyes of those who might wish him harm.

 

The Return of Lowr Galadre and The Hidden War.

 

When he returned from the ends of the earth, Lowr Galadre sought out some of his old and most trusted allies. Even though he had grown old, he still possessed a sharp mind and the ability to see what others did not. And Lowr could see there was something very wrong in Ellyonia. The City of Evergreen and the outlying towns and villages lay unprotected, stripped of all those suitable to serve in the army. Only the very young, old and infirm remained. Why had Traris Rilitar done such a thing? Even taking into account his foolish war against the Dwarves, it made no sense to leave parts of the Realm without protection.

 

Lowr Galadre would have his answers. Together with his trusted companions, he set out to find out what he could about the new King. It was a dark and twisted tale. Delving deep into his past, Lowr found Traris Rilitar was a Priest of the Red Shadow, a member of the Cult of Nite, Necromancers who worshipped the long banished Elven Goddess of Darkness. In the catacombs below the Citadel of Nargundush, they held the Pair Dadeni (The Cauldron of Rebirth). A magical item said to be able to revive the dead. The more he delved, the more he found the cult entangled in the upper echelons of the military. Somehow they had worked their way up the chain of command until they were in a position to control the army. Once the King and Council were assassinated there were few who dared to question Rilitar’s motives. It was then that Lowr discovered—to his horror—the bodies of Elven Hunters killed in the war with the Dwarves being transported to Nargundush. There, Silath Belanore, High Priest of the Necromancers used the foul sorceries of the Cauldron to revived them into legions of undead warriors. Gradually Lowr Galadre pieced together the information he and his associates had gathered. It seemed, the Cult of Nite was seeking to resurrect the Goddess of Darkness. The bodies of the dead served a two-fold purpose. Firstly their collective souls would be part of the malign ritual allowing Nite to be brought back into the world. Secondly, it gave Traris Rilitar an army of Undead with which he could rule the Realms.

 

Knowing Rilitar needed to be stopped before his loathsome deeds came to fruition, Lowr Galadre sought a meeting with the Dwarven King. Uthar Skurbrand knew and trusted Lowr from long ago and listened to all the Elf had to say.

 

A plan was set in motion. Instead of waiting for the Elves to attack them, Uthar Skurbrand would send his battle-hardened Troopers against the Elven lines and push into Ellyonia. Uthar was not the only one who trusted Lowr. Many Elves remembered him from his time as King, and how he had treated them. News of his return started to filter through to those in the front lines of the battle. Lowr’s lieutenants went among them spreading news of his return and of Traris Rilitar’s ungodly machinations.

 

When the Dwarf attack came, it was met with little resistance from the Elves. Both armies joined forces and pushed into Ellyonia. Traris Rilitar and his Acolytes sensing what was happening fled to the Citadel of Nargundush. There, the unholy cult tried unsuccessfully to carry out the resurrection of the Dark Goddess. But even with all the souls they had collected, it was to no avail; the awakening of Nite was destined to failure.

 

The combined armies laid siege to the Citadel and the Priests sent out the vast army of Undead to meet them. Aghast at the horrors sent to battle them—knowing many would-be friends and comrades—the Elves at first, baulked at the thought fighting. But Lowr Galadre rallied them and eventually, the legions of Undead warriors were destroyed in a sea of mystical fire and flames.

 

When Lowr Galadre and his forces finally broke through the barricades and entered Nargundush they found hundreds of bodies. Both Priests of the Red Shadow and Traris Rilitar’s inner sanctum lay slain, a testament to the Once Kings last desperate attempt to gain the souls needed to call the Dark Goddess from her long exile. Of Rilitar, Silath Belanore and the Cauldron there was no sign. Somehow they had made their escape.

 

With the destruction of the Cult of Nite and its plans for the resurrection of the Dark Goddess thrown into disarray. The Elven Lands could start to rebuild their losses from the long and costly war. The Dwarves returned to their homelands with the thanks of the entire Elven nation ringing in their ears. Of those cult members that had made their escape, there was no sign. A joint force of Elf and Dwarf was dispatch to hunt for them. But after many cycles of searching for the elusive prey, Traris Rilitar was nowhere to be found. It was reported that he tried to flee by ship but it sank in the deepest sea and all aboard perished. Others told he succeeded in bringing back Nite, but in her anger, she turned on the cult and slew them all. Nothing was proven; the closest they came to discovering anything, was a skeletal body clad in the scarlet robes of the Red Shadow found in a ruined temple far to the south. On a wall close by, was a message scrawled in blood. It read “Beware of the Helven”.

 

As a result of his treachery, Traris Rilitar would forever, be known as the Forgotten King, and his name, except for a brief footnote, erased from the Elven Histories.  

 

 

The Age of Prosperity and The War of The Ice Orcs.

 

With the war ended and the Realm recovering, the Elven Princes convened to elect a new King. After much discussion, Emeric Belfinas was called upon to serve. He chose Irnys Lalwenye to be his Queen and a new council was elected to oversee the rebuilding. And so began the Age of Prosperity.

 

It was during the reign of Emeric Belfinas that the Elven Hero and King, Lowr Galadre finally passed from the Realm of the Elves. He had lived well over a thousand cycles and twice saved the Elven Nation from catastrophe. Unlike his eventful life, he died peacefully in his sleep. Sadness spread across the lands at the news of his passing and in many a tavern, a tankard of ale was raised in his honour. An immense storm lashed across the Great Forest on the day he died, the first anyone could remember in an age. It was said even the Gods shed a tear at his passing. It was to commemorate his death that King Belfinas ordered the building of the Shrine of Heroes. Lowr’s name sits proudly at the top of a roll call of those worthy of the name.

 

The Age of Prosperity would spread across the reigns of one hundred and fifty Elven Kings. It was a time of greatness that saw trade flourish between the Realms and as a result, their cities spread outwards and upwards in a show of abundant wealth. Peace treaties are signed and agreements made covering knowledge, discovery, aid in time of war or disaster.

 

In the time of the Elven King Elmon Vaydark, it would be the latter that the Warlords of Yar-Atgur, the Gnome Homelands, would call upon. After a series of natural disasters far to the North, a massive Warband of Ice Orcs, led by their Battle Liege, Ulgroz Fleshkiller pushed across the Shadow Spires from their home in The Ice Crown. Tribal warriors, warlike and violent, they appeared to have tired of waging war against each other and were now seeking out others to vent their anger upon. The Gnome stronghold of Zaramunz was the first to fall. The Ice Orcs appeared to have taken the fortress almost by surprise, their sheer numbers overwhelming the walls and gates and slaughtering all inside. The Gnomes, more used to squabbling among themselves, were in no position to fight an enemy as brutish as the Ice Orcs. The Warlords used the agreements signed by themselves and the Elves and Dwarves to request help in repulsing the invaders. At first, both nations were reluctant to help. Gnomes, although they had signed the agreements, did not contribute much in the way of trade and knowledge. In the end, both the Elven and Dwarf councils relented. To ignore the request would go against the spirit of the agreements. Besides, if the Ice Orcs were allowed to conquer the Gnomes, their two nations would be next.

 

Once again the armies of the two greatest fighting forces the world had known, joined together to battle a common foe. As the unstoppable Orc horde pushed into the heart of Yar-Atgur, legions of Dwarf Troopers marched across the Ghaggotha Grasslands and into the foothills of Carn-Aldor. At the same time, a mighty Elven fleet sailed around the coast and made landfall in the Bay of Crystals.

 

Caught between the two powerful armies, the Orcs were driven back towards the Shadow Spires. There they regrouped. Re-enforce by thousands of others eager to escape the destruction that ravaged their lands; they came again. This time they were prepared for those that rallied against them and in a series of savage battles managed to push back the combined might of the two armies.

 

The Ice Orc Warband swarmed into the Gnome Homelands. Fortress after fortress fell beneath their armoured fists and the Gnomes were either slaughtered or forced to flee. Soon, Elf, Dwarf and Gnome were driven back beyond the Hills of Carn-Aldor and out onto the Ghaggotha Grasslands. Here the combined forces threw up a wall of steel, determined the Orcs would not be allowed to take one more step towards the lands of Dhurdir and Ellyonia.

 

But Ulgroz Fleshkiller and his Ice Orcs were more than content to bide their time. Having conquered Yar-Atgur they rested and celebrated their victory. More and more of their brethren arrived from the blighted lands beyond the Shadow Spires. Using resources abandoned by the Gnomes the Orcs strengthened their armour and weapons, built massive war-machines and readied themselves to push further into the new lands before them.

 

It would be several cycles before the Orcs began to stream from Yar-Atgur into territories claimed by the Dwarves. The time in between had been used by both rival armies to test each other for signs of weakness. Bands of Elf and Dwarf warriors infiltrated the hills around the Orc strongholds seeking out ways of defeating the enemy. Each time they were repulsed by Orc Warbands. Likewise, the Orcs probed at the allies defences testing their weapons against those that would oppose them.

 

The first of the full-scale attacks came almost four cycles after the Ice Orcs had first arrived in Yar-Atgur. Rejuvenated, reinforced and rearmed, they swarmed from the Hills of Carn-Aldor in a tide of unbridled savagery. Even though they were prepared for the assault, the allied lines buckled under the unforgiving onslaught. In places, cracks appeared and the Ice Orcs surged through cutting off any hope of retreat. Those Elves and Dwarves lucky enough to escape filed back across the plains and into their homelands.

 

Dhurdir would be the next to come under attack from the Orc Warbands. The mountainous region held no fear for the Orcs, and the Dwarves found themselves battling an enemy used to fighting in such harsh terrain.

 

Helmon Skurbrand, the Dwarf King would oversee one of the darkest times in Dwarf history. Their strongholds, mines and Underpaths were overrun and in a period of thirty cycles, almost half of Dhurdir was under the control of the Ice Orcs. The Dwarf capital of Khathuram was itself under siege for most of that time. With the Underpaths sealed, or in the control of the Orcs, its inhabitants were slowly being starved out.

 

The Elves regrouped on their borderlands, reinforced their watchtowers and defences. Thousand would abandon the farms they managed on the Plains of Isashmar and seek the protection of the Great Forest. But Elmon Vaydark, the Elven King, was determined not to leave the Dwarves to their fate. He summoned Esperr Ravatumal, the High Spellcaster to him. A desperate situation called for a desperate strategy. On their many expeditions to far off lands, many mysterious and magical artefacts had come into the Elves possession. One, called Death’s Reach—stolen from a serpent worshipping death cult far to the East—the stone casket was deemed too dangerous to use. The Elven King bade the Spellcaster to seek out a way of using it against the Orcs without endangering their own warriors. Esperr Ravatumal did what he could. Working with what he knew of the Death’s Reach, he succeeded in concocting a ritual that he hoped would activate its deadly powers. The only way to find out for sure would be to use it against the enemy.  

 

Elbane Taranath, Grand Commander of the Elven Army and the latest champion to wield the Moonblade led one of the greatest Elven armies ever assembled. It gathered on the Plains of Isashmar and began the long march to hopefully break the siege of Khathuram. The huge Orc Warband turned to meet them, confident in their ability to defeat those foolish enough to attack them once again.

 

It would be Esperr Ravatumal himself who would release the horrors of the Death’s Reach upon the Ice Orc hordes. He was the only one capable of getting the object close enough to the Orcs and activating its powers. But it would mean his almost certain death. Orbing into the midst of the Warband, Esperr uttered the words to the ritual that would open the casket. His plague-ridden body staggered from the bursting orb and the Orcs fell upon him. Before they realised, it was too late. The plague spread among them like wildfire and before darkness fell, almost half their number had died a horrific death. By sunrise of the following morning, the blight had run its course and the plains were littered with the bodies of the dead. The remaining Orcs paled at the sight and despite Ulgroz Fleshkiller’s protestations, the Warband began to retreat northwards to what they believed was the safety of Yar-Atgur. The Elves and Dwarves pursued them, harrying them at every turn. Many more would fall beneath the combined might of the two armies. The Dwarves angered at the ruination of their lands showed the invaders no mercy, whole lodges were put to the sword when the Dwarf Troopers came across them.

 

The Elves pushed on, finally catching up with Ulgroz Fleshkiller, and it would be Elbane Taranath himself who ended Ulgroz’s life. Trapped and with nowhere to run the once-powerful Battle Liege was forced to face the Grand Commander in single combat. The dual would last from sunrise to sunset and at its end the mighty Orc chieftain lay dead, slain by the Moonblade. Once again the great sword had help save the Faerie Realms from destruction.

 

The remains of the Orc Warband, caught between almost certain annihilation and returning to their own ravaged lands, chose the latter. Forced back beyond the Shadow Spires it would be many hundreds of cycles before they troubled the Realms again.

 

The war that raged across the borders of the Elven homelands did not interrupt the Elven Age of Prosperity, it would carried on virtually unaffected by the events concerning the Ice Orcs. In fact, it would be the war that helped to fill Elven coffers to overflowing. The Dwarves and Gnomes had suffered greatly in the war and the Elves saw the opportunity to offer help in rebuilding their strongholds and economies. The Dwarves were more than happy to accept the offer. Orcs held no interest in gold or other precious metals so the vast resources stored in the Dwarven repositories remained untouched. Gnomes, on the other hand, were too divided a race—split into different fraction, constantly at each other's throats—to offer any reasonable means of payment. But, still the Elves offered them the help they needed. The Gnomes would be in their debt. A debt they could call upon at some later time.

 

So the age of peace and prosperity continued. Some nine hundred cycles after he became King, Elmon Vaydark would die peacefully in his sleep and Aadran Vaydark, the First Son would succeed him to the throne. With his Queen, Aerasi, his reign would be long and remarkably uneventful given those of his predecessors.

 

Aadran would die, like his father before him, peacefully in his bed. For one thousand and fifty cycles he served the Elves of the Forest Realms. His long life had seen his sons and heirs to the throne, die before him. So once again it came down to the Princes of the Elven Court to choose the next King.

 

Lythas Suradoril was determined that he would not waste his life sitting in his chambers attending to matters of state. He had the Elven Council to do that. The Realm was safe and would be left in capable hands. Lythas Suradoril would venture out into the wider world, something no reigning King had done before. From a young age, he had read and heard the tales of the wonders to be found outside the boundaries of the Faerie Realms and promised himself he would see them for himself.

 

The Voyage of The Exalted Blade.

 

Commandeering three of his navy’s finest ships, The Exalted Blade, The Star Seeker and The Sea Wolf. Crewed with his best mariners and laden with supplies, they set off to explore the virtually unmapped lands far to the West across the Viridian Sea.

 

It was nigh on two seasons before they saw land again. In that time the only life they came across—other than the few ocean-going birds that dared ventured far from land—was the monstrous Kraken that almost dragged the Star Seeker to its doom. If not for Ocan Delseamas the Spellcaster aboard the Exalted Blade the vessel would have been resting at the bottom of the Viridian.

 

The islands that would later be named, the Islands of Thulaath, would be the first port of call for the adventurers. The King and a landing went ashore to hopefully gather water and fresh fruit. Although not known at the time, it was to be the Elves first encounter the Bloodshrouds. It was not known how these vampiric creatures came to the islands, but it would not be the last time the Elves ran foul of their necromantic powers.

 

In the darkness, the blood-sucking predators crept from their hiding places and fell upon the unsuspecting visitors. At daybreak, the King would find several of his crew were missing. A search was mounted, with Lythas Suradoril calling for reinforcements from his ships to join in the hunt. Nothing could be found, but as the sun began to set, two of the missing wandered out of the forest. Pale and confused they were unsure what had happened. The King loaded the supplies they had gathered and orders everyone back to the ships. Fearing contagion King Suradoril put himself and the landing party into isolation. After no further incidents, the fleet continued onwards.

 

With the winds in their favour, the voyagers pushed on. Four sunrises later a violent storm arose that drove the fleet southwards. Seeking shelter within the ring of stone called The Pillars of Corethien they waited for the storm to pass. But just like the Islands of Thulaath, these jagged outcrops also held a secret.

 

Far below the crashing waves lay the ancient kingdom of Wy’ranthos, and within its borders, a bitter war raged. A race of vicious crab-like creatures called the Qrill battled with last of an offshoot of the Elves. The Nemetai once ruled the immense plains of seagrass and kelp beds that spread across the ocean floor. The crystal city of Brightvane with its vast shining spires was their home. Then an undersea earthquake had opened an enormous oceanic abyss and from its darkened depths the Qrill emerged. The murderous horde spread across the

 

The Age of Ice

 

And so it was that the Great Disaster that had beset the Ice Orcs many cycles ago would gradually reach out towards the Elven lands. Sheets of ice pushed through the Shadow Spires and across the seas that separated the Ice Crown from the Faerie Realms. Gwyrimeth and Yar-Atgur would be first to suffer the freezing temperatures that followed in their wake. Cewri and Gnome huddled inside their caves and fortresses to try and see out the bitter winter. Those that fled before the ice storm fared little better than those that stayed behind. Crops and livestock withered and died, and unable, or unwilling to welcome a huge influx of refugees the Dwarves closed off their borders and prepared themselves for the coming storm. Any attempting to cross the mountains and seek shelter within Mor’Cirith only brought death. The Troll’s did not take kindly to anyone invading their lands.

 

But even the Troll Homeland could not withstand the creeping cold for long. Twenty five cycles passed before the massive glaciers began to scour the mountains that surrounded Mor’Cirith. At first they built huge fires in an attempt to hold back the cold and the bodies of those fleeing the ice storm would provide a plentiful supply of food. The Trolls believed themselves safe but soon saw the error of their ways when their lodges became buried beneath the heavy drifts of snow and ice. Soon they also were forced to flee across the Scarstones and out onto the Plains of Kharamunz, behind them the ice followed relentlessly. The move would bring them into conflict with the Elves once again.

 

The Elven King, Oscan Mendenre, well aware of the disaster approaching the Great Forest would allow the Trolls to pass onto the Plains of Isashmar and no further. Any caught entering the forest would be harshly dealt with.

 

The King call together the greatest minds in the Realm to formulate a plan that would prevent the ice sheets from destroying the Great Forest. But there was little that knowledge or magic could do to prevent it. This was a force of nature that even invocations to the Elven Gods would not stop. Even so, Oran Muirairian, believed he knew of a ritual that could lessen the impact of the coming winter upon their forest home.

 

The High Spellcaster gathered the items needed to complete the ceremony and prepared other Spellcaster to join him in performing the incantations. The Elves were unsure what is was that halted the ice sheets. The Spellcasters were adamant it was their ritual, others that it was the great ramparts of the Scarstones that slowed the steady advance of the glaciers. Ultimately it was probably a combination of both.

 

Nevertheless, the intense cold that accompanied the ice flow would play havoc within Ellyonia. Great swathes of the Northern forest were blighted by the freezing temperatures. Even Evergreen and the Prime Tree came under threat. Oran Muirairian withdrew the magical shields he had placed on the forests edge, pulling them back to protect the Elven City. Although the King and Queen, the Council and an army of Elven Hunters would remain to safeguard the city and its surroundings, the majority of the Elves moved southwards crossing the seas to stay ahead of the great freeze. And so began the Age of the Winter Kings.   

 

The Age of the Winter Kings.

 

Following the death of Oscan Mendenre; Vukath Pasandoryal would become the first of the Winter Kings. He would rule over a Realm greatly changed from that of his predecessors. The almost endless warmth that they had enjoyed for as long as any could remember, was now gone. Crops would wither and die. The abundant harvests that sustained the Empire, became a thing of the past. Trees, the very lifeline of the forest shed their leaves and sank into a deep slumber beneath thick blankets of snow. Even the God seemed to have deserted the Elves in their time of need. Cernos and Ophiel who considered themselves to be the Elven guardians were nowhere to be found. No amount of prayer and sacrifice would call them forth. It was believed they returned to the Great Void Beyond the Stars, the birthplace of all Gods. They would emerge again only when the forest had recovered. But within the oasis of summer created by the warding spells, Evergreen and the Prime Tree continued to thrive. The Queen continued with her duties and life continued to be nurtured in the nurseries beneath the Tree.

 

The Elves that remained would protect the Homeland against any intruders. Bands of Trolls regularly trespassed into the forest seeking shelter and felling the trees to fuel their great campfires. The Elves, ever mindful of their oath to defend the woodland against harm, ventured out to force the interlopers back onto the plains.

 

The Elves that joined the exodus to the land south of the Viridian Sea were unable to settle. The savage winter would follow them, forcing the Elves to constantly move to stay ahead of the freezing temperatures.