Glancing through the book, you see a wealth of information on locks and keys designed by the Everhot family.
After scanning through page after page, you finally discover information about the Soulfire chest. Its actual name is the Keeper of the Blade. It was created for the Zimel family upon reaching Faydwer, ages ago.
The locking mechanism of the chest requires four unique keys. The first key is actually a metal ankh designed after a rune taken from the Loping Plains. The other three keys are known as the Keys of Binding.
There are three unique Keys of Binding. These keys were crated for the Zimels, but later recorded to have been aquired by Lord Mayong Mistmoore. Although Mayong hides these keys from the world, they can be duplicated if the correct components are obtained.
To create copies of the three keys, a person must first obtain raw components. You will need vibrellium ore from the Everhot Mine. The locksmith will then need one enigma diamond for each key. These diamonds can only be created through the manipulation of the Grungetalon geoanimators. After, the key molds must be obtained from a forge master. The final items are the three blessed forge hammers from the chapel. Take all of these items to the locksmith wheel and you can recreate the Keys of Binding.
This book tells the story of a young sailor aboard a ship bound for Faydwer on the eve of the War of Fay, during Norrath’s Age of Turmoil.
The young Teir’Dal who wrote this wanted to preserve a record of the eve of a battle.
It seems the tale is not yet finished in this volume.
I hope to someday find the rest of it.
We have been preparing for this night for as long as I can remember.
When first I sought to join the Teir’Dal forces, I was told there were no openings for someone of my stature. You see, one of my legs is shorter than the other which makes me appear smaller than I am, I convinced the commander to allow me to join and now here we are: the eve of battle.
I will set this down for future generations, for while the invasion by the Teir’Dal will live on in history forever, the memories of this last night will surely fade.
Whatever happens when the sun rises, I am sure that we will be thinking of the future then and not living in this moment in time, when the possibilities are set before us.
Long has my unit trained in secret. Lest this fall into unfriendly hands, I will not name the place. The training was long and difficult, for not only did we need to learn the management of our new warships, we also needed to build our strength as the journey from Tunaria to Faydwer is not a short one.
Speed is to be our ally in this, so that the Dwarves, upon whose shores we will first land, will see the strength of our force and be overwhelmed.
The Feir’Dal will be simple to overcome, as they are simpleminded.
Once we have made landfall, there is nothing that will stop us.
The new ships are deadly.
They are low and lean, powered both by air and by the strength of our rowers.
When the winds are favorable, a large sail is hoisted and the Cantor will stand behind it and call up further winds with her songs.
Each ship has its own Cantor, to increase the advantage of the winds.
When the winds are still and the sea like glass, the oars are put into the water.
The galleys of the new ships can hold 50 ogres to the oars, In my ship, we have 30 ogres plus 20 of my unit.
Of course, my unit’s mission is simple and straight-forward; we are not pulling alongside the ogres. We are to conserve our strength to cover the ground swift as wolves, silent as the owl.
The Cantor is checking the winds now. She wears a robe of silver belted with a rope of pearls and rubies.
I do not know who she is. When she was assigned to our ship, I asked her name and in response received a look so sharp that her eyes burned into me like a venomous bite.
The sail, which fluttered in the slightest of breezes, is now filling and pulling at its lines.
We are underway.
The Cantor stops beside me.
“You want to know my name?” she asks softly. She is the only one who may walk when the ship is underway, but she pulls me to my feet nonetheless.
“Come with me,” she says, leading me to the deck at the stern.
The winds swirled around us as we stood side by side, the ship slicing through the black waters.
She leans toward me, and I thought she meant to kiss me.
Her lips barely touching my ear, she whispers, “My name is Death.”
Her breath is warm though the wind is billowing the sail is icy.
Laughing then, the Cantor pushes me away, her dark eyes glinting.
I did not stumble, for my training has made me able to navigate quite easily in the dark even upon the uncertain footing of a ship.
I could feel her eyes taking measure of me as I sit down to continue with my writing.
She is looking at me still, I can feel it.
The ships will reach the transport area very shortly. I hope to continue this once we have crossed to the other side.
We are making excellent time; the Cantors have done a good job.
I see the swirling mist ahead of us. It crosses the ship’s prow and coils along its length.
I turn to look over my shoulder; Death is watching me.
This is the fifth book based on the journal of a young Teir’Dal soldier during the War of Fay.
The journals of this young Teir’Dal soldier chronicle the crossing Faydwer on a mission to Felwithe during the War of Fay with the Cantor, an illusionist.
Our journey takes many days for we are careful to travel as far from the actual fighting as possible.
There is the danger of being killed by other Teir’Dal who are taken in by the illusion created by the Cantor that she and I are Koada’Dal.
There is also the danger her illusion will fail and the Koada’Dal and Feir’Dal will recognize us and slay us before our tasks are done.
We entered Felwithe with no problems, just as in my dream.
The Cantor leads me down various by-ways until we reach an inn. We take a room overlooking the street.
I stand beside the shuttered window, peering through the thick wooden slats. The Cantor paces, nervous in a way that I have never seen,
Across the room I see our reflections in the brass mirror and realize our illusions are gone.
“Stop this,” I say angrily, “You are jeopardizing our mission. I know not why you are here, but I know my task and if you are here to help me you will stop filling the air with the dust of your shoes.”
She stops pacing, perching instead on the edge of the bed.
“Let me tell you why I am here,” she says suddenly. “I saw the deaths of all the others on our ship and that is why I chose you; you will outlive us all.”
Holding her hand to stop me from speaking, she continues: “You look out the window to see if any of the signals are in place; you will not find them. They all perished.
“Of twenty who set forth, you alone are left. You ask constantly why I am here. It is for this: to ensure that you live, though you would not have needed my help. I saw your death; you will outlive us all.”
The room fills with silence. I do not know what to say.
After a moment, the Cantor speaks again: “Long ago, I was cursed with the ability to see others’ deaths.”
“At first, I only saw them when I wished it. Since coming on this mission, I cannot stop it. Everyone we pass, I have but to glance at them to know how and when they will die.”
“Yet I look into the mirror willing it – willing it with all my might! – and I know not when death will come for me. Yet you saw it; you know and will not tell me.”
I remain silent. What I saw that day in Faydark was a dream, nothing more. It troubled me, but it was only a dream.
Still, knowing how the one dream upset me I could understand how seeing such things every day could bring anxiety, even madness.
I sit beside her then and take her hands into mine.
“Tell me,” I say softly, “what is your real name?”
The Cantor hesitated, glancing away then back again shaking her head.
“I am called Death and that is how you will remember me. When you are in your old age and relive the glories of this war, you will remember that Death walked beside you into Felwithe. And you lived.”
She was calmer now and recast the illusions over us both, then sat and held my hand.
“We will wait here, together.”
“Wait for what?” I say, but I know the answer.
Since her illusions have covered me, I find my foresight is strengthened. We are waiting for the Teir’Dal to besiege Felwithe.
Though the others in my unit do not live, we each were trained with one goal in mind.
If it came to this and only one of us lived, the mission would not fail.
As though reading my thoughts, the Cantor says, “No one else has been able to use my gifts as you have. Is this because you have one short leg? Perhaps it makes you more sensitive in some way?”
I shrug, “Perhaps.”
I know that I no longer wish for legs of equal length, for I can run and climb much better than the others.
I know my balance and can keep it no matter what happens.
We sit in silence, our fair-skinned fingers interlaced.
I try to remember the dream – would I recognize again the wall against which the Cantor fell? Could I keep her away from such a place, from her own death?
In the space of a few short weeks, she has gone from nuisance to the most important creature in my world.
The time for my task has not yet come. And so we sit in the growing stillness and wait.
This is another part of the journal kept by a Teir’Dal, relating experiences during the War of Fay.
Another volume from the diary of one young Teir’Dal soldier, written during the War of Fay. This volume tells of the Teir’Dal ships landing on Faydwer.
The ships passed beneath the teleportation arch.
There is no sound save a soft thrumming that hangs in the air above us. Mist curls up from the surface of the sea, covering each ship in thick draperies.
No matter how often I have made this journey, I am always amazed that no ships have ever collided in the fog.
When my ship clears the mists, I can see the prows of the other vessels breaking through as well.
Behind me, I hear the rich voice of the Cantor rising in song, calling forth the winds again to propel us toward Faydwer.
Was her name really Death, as she had told me? Or was she trying to frighten me, seeing only a youth with one shortened leg?
In many ways, I am surprised that I am on this team, on this mission.
I will not set down our plans in advance, lest something go awry and my thoughts are revealed to the enemy.
When the commander named those who would be in this elite unit, there were sounds of surprise when they chose me.
Yes, I walk with a limp; but I run like the wind and am deadly besides.
The singing stops, and I feel her beside me again.
She crouches down on the narrow plank and touches the shoulder of the Teir’Dal in the seat before me. As she had with me, she pulls him to his feet and walks him to the small deck at the stern of the ship.
I make an effort not to turn my head; what she chooses to do or say to the others aboard the ship is none of my business.
But it is long before he returns to his seat, and he smiles, looking over his shoulder toward her.
Suddenly before us, I see the lead ship raise a smaller yellow flag.
Immediately, the ogres put their oars into the water, joining their brute strength to the winds in our sail. That signals that landfall is near.
Around me, the other members of my team grip their knives. Our task is not to fight upon landing, but we must be prepared.
The Cantors stop their songs and two of the ogres rise to dismantle the mast, which they cast overboard.
Without that weight, the ships skim faster across the sea, pulled along by the strength of our oarsmen.
The ogres are perfect for this task, for it involved only dipping the oar in, pulling, lifting, then dipping the oars in again. This is as much as their simple minds can grasp.
Ahead, there is a dark ling marking Faydwer.
There are lights set at various points along the way, supposedly to allow the fools to guard their shores.
The reality is that they will light our way directly to a good landing. Some of the ships head further north to land closer to Kelethin.
My first destination is Kaladim.
Without their sails, the ships are low to the water.
The slight splash of the oars is masked in the rolling of the waves onto the shore.
We pull our ships up behind us onto the shingle and the ogres knock holes in their sides.
There is only one way home now – through Felwithe. Weapons are drawn. We run up the beach, and they are surprised.
My unit must stick close together; we each have a role in this.
An arrow whistles through the air and spears the Teir’Dal beside me – the one who had dallied with the Cantor aboard ship.
He staggers, then slides toward the ground clutching at my arm and pulling me down with him. Another arrow whistles over my head.
“Her name…”gasps my comrade before drawing his last breath,”…is Death”
“Death? You’re mad!” I hiss, shaking his lifeless hand from my arm.
I crouch, checking my path across the beach to the cover of the trees when suddenly, the Cantor is beside me – and him.
She kisses his forehead and closes his eyes, then grabs my hand.
“Come!” she cries.
We race toward the concealing darkness ahead.
This book is one of the Storm Shepherd series titled “The Downpour”. It is the story of how three people had come together to fight the darkness encroaching upon an enchanted land.
The three heroes, having come together at last, proceeded to detail all of the events that led them to meet that day. The halfling druid learned much about the faith of the Storm Father from Danalithenis, who called him by his old name, Karana. Throughout their discussions, something came over Gremius. As he listened to the stories of faiths gone by, he realized that what was missing from his life. Belief.
When Danalithenis was done telling his tales, Gremius stood up and drew his sword. They looked at him and saw a single teardrop fall from his eyes, falling into a stone beneath his feet. He threw his sword down and repented for everything he had done in his life, asking Karana for forgiveness. What he was especially sorry for was those worshipers he tortured and killed. At the moment he finished confessing, his sword changed into a shepherd’s crook… but one made of glowing steel, and with a pointed blade extending from the bottom of the staff.
When Danalithenis heard everything Gremius confessed, he realized that he had befriended an evil man. Even now, after all these hundreds of years, the corruption of civilization still followed him. In anger, he threw down his bow on the same stone and proclaimed that he would rather die than let the shadow of corruption taint the world any longer. At that moment, his bow changed into a small glass sphere.
Gremius recognized that sphere as the one from his dream that brought him here. As he stood up from his crouched prayers, Danalithenis could see that his blackened Freeport Militia armor was gleaming silver, like the sheen from a newly fallen rain. Tammin, the old druid, said that the time has come to pass. Now is when they would fight the darkness. She explained her full vision to the pair. When she was done, they knew they were all tied together stronger than any friends could possibly be.
Thus, the Storm Shepherds, as they called themselves, worked to push back the blight that was tainting the lands. Danalithenis used his skills as a tracker to find all of the creatures that had been afflicted, allowing Tammin to cure them – or in the case of those who were too far gone – for Gremius to put them out of their misery. As a team, they were able to prevent the ever encroaching darkness from spreading across the land
For the next several years, they would win victories against the darkness that would begin to taint the land. They soon enough realized they would not be able to do it alone, so they recruited followers. They found a small village of shipwrecked refugees living along the coast and talked with them. Many of these people, elves just like Danalithenis, joined them in their battle
The elves would tell Danalithenis of the sad fate of Faydwer and how they came to live in this enchanted isle. This would have normally crushed Danalithenis, but he now had a new cause – to fight the blight. Holding his newly crafted bow and the clear crystal sphere, he vowed that if he could not save the Greater Faydark, then he would save this enchanted forest.
In addition to the elves, the Storm Shepherds gathered a group of followers from the village of Rivervale. With everyone working so well together, it wasn’t long before the Storm Shepherds attracted the attention of those responsible for the blight. Soon enough, creatures of darkness would begin to pursue the three companions, seeking to ensure the Shepherds would not destroy all of their hard work. Many battles were fought against these fiends, and most of them were won.
As battle after battle passed, the years began carrying on. Soon enough, Tammin would succumb to one enemy she could not fight – Time. One night as she lay in her bed, too weak to stand anymore, she asked to see both Danalithenis and Gremius. She told them of one final vision the forest, screaming in agony, had given her. She patted them on the hands, told them they knew what had to be done, and closed her eyes.
On one fateful day, the followers of the Storm Shepherds found the bodies of Danalithenis and Gremius in a small clearing in the forest. Clutched in the dead elf’s hand was a black sphere that swirled with a frightening darkness. The followers would later take up the name of their leaders and keep fighting the darkness as the Storm Shepherds. To this day, they continue to protect both their enchanted lands and that mysterious black sphere.
This book is one of the Storm Shepherd series titled “Darnalithenis of Felwithe”. It is the story of a high elf that left his home for the wilderness and his further travels across the world.
Darnalithenis was born and raised in the beautiful city of Felwithe. Though he was groomed to join the ranks of the holy paladins that protected the city, he could never ignore the longing he felt as he stared deep into the depths of the Greater Faydark forest. After much thought, he finally brought himself to steal away in the night and leave for the wilderness.
He would spend the next several decades living among the woodland creatures of Faydwer. He learned the secrets of moving through the trees undetected, on how to forage food from the land itself, or when the winters were hard, to track and hunt down game for his dinner. He enjoyed living his life being free of the constraints of the city, but he also knew that he would not be accepted amongst his kin were he to choose to return. One day, he came up with a plan.
Darnalithenis began to make as many arrows as he could shove in his quiver. When he was done, he gathered as much food as he could, then hiked to the western edge of the forest. Continuing through the foothills of Butcherblock he avoided the roads, and in turn, the dwarves that guarded them. After skirting by Kaladim, the city of the dwarves, he traveled for several days. Finally, he reached the docks that would take him to other lands – and possibly others like him.
The first place he came to was the great trade city, Freeport. Though it was not as clean or beautiful as his home, Felwithe, it still was larger than anything he had ever seen. He spent some time there, but not caring for the ever-increasing brutality of the guards, decided it was time to move on.
He continued to head west, traveling though dark forests, craggy mountaintops, and endless plains. Soon enough, he reached where the land came to an end. Choosing to follow the coastline to the north, he eventually found a glade populated with people just like him.
Darnalithenis knew that his journey was now at an end, for the people of Surefall accepted him for whom he was, not what he was expected to be.
Darnalithenis spent many years living among the tenders of the glade he now called home. He would spend his time educating those who journeyed to outlying forest on the ways to respect the wilderness. At one point, he even joined with a group of people who were trying to stop an army of gnolls that were assaulting a nearby village.
With him leading the party on a direct path to the village, they arrived just in time to join the fray. It was a bloody battle, and many people lost their lives, but the gnolls were driven back. As Darnalithenis left to return to the glade, he spied the party he was with killing hundreds of woodland creatures for nothing more than their skins. In a fit of rage, he slaughtered every last one of the poachers. When he returned to the glade, he knew that it was time for him to return to the solitude of the Greater Faydark. Darnalithenis traveled across the continent to the city of Freeport. Someone calling himself the Overlord now ruled the city and demanded an exorbitant fee to travel across the ocean.
Darnalitenis had no plan on paying this man any fee, so in the dead of night, he stole a ship and began to sail across the ocean. On the fifteenth day out his ship was attacked by a fleet of ships sailed by his dark cousins, the Teir’Dal. He leapt into the ocean, swimming for a nearby island he spotted.
He would spend the next several hundred years trapped on this island. He lost all hope of rescue, for the seas roiled with a fury that he had never seen before. To make matters worse, the cyclopses that lived on the island with him were beginning to overpopulate. Soon enough they would know that he lived there, too. And one day, they did.
As he gathered water from a stream, he heard the sound of the large rock flying through the air just a moment too late. As he lay there, back broken from the impact of the rock, he watched as the cyclops lifted his foot in order to crush Danalithenis’s skull. A moment later, the Cyclops fell to the ground with a thud. Standing over the cyclops’s corpse was a human, pulling a sword from the monster’s back. The man said, “It looked like you could use some help.”
“The Prophetic Mystery” – from the writings of Geraint Caradoc
“The under dynasty will be eaten, starting with your bottom.”
This is the phrase that started it all. First it was a curiosity, and now that I have began to look further into it, my interests have grown. I had come across the prophecy as I was rebinding some of the books in my grandfather’s library that had survived these few years since the War of Plague upon Qeynos. It was in an ancient dialect of Erudish, but its mention of a dynasty eaten and my bottom made me laugh.
Due to the age of the prophecy, I have began to wonder if this could be something that has already taken place, or something still to come. I have decided to start investigating it, and am keeping this journal as record of my findings.
“The under dynasty” may be speaking of an underworld empire or leadership of a kingdom that came from an underground location.
Gnolls, kobolds, dark elves, dwarves, halflings, minotaurs, goblins, shik’nar, fire giants, burynai, undead, and dragons all come from below, or live below ground. Ak’Anon, Neriak, Blackburrow, the Underfoot, and Nagafen’s Lair can all be considered kingdoms that are located underground.
Under dynasty could also be speaking more of an underdog; the oppressed; the disadvantaged. This would also fit with the gnolls, kobolds, minotaurs and goblins.
“Eaten, starting with your bottom.” is an odd phrase to say the least.
To eat is to wear away, corrode, devour, ravage, consume or overtake. But “starting with your bottom”…what could that imply? The underside, the base, the origin, lowest point. That could be both physically, or socially. The lowest of people within that society, or the lowest point of the empire’s recognized land? Maybe the foundation of the empire itself?
Dragons definately devour, and they tend to make their lairs in underground locations. But if it were a prophecy relating to the mystically powerful dragons, then I should be able to find other related prophecies. But my search for other prophecies, so far, has had little results.
I did find several others that also referred to kingdoms coming to an end, but I was able to discern key differences to know they were not speaking of the same instance.
I consulted an oracle who is well known for her ability to see underlying meanings, and some of her previous prophecies have already come to pass. I had my notes with me, but she never even read them!
“You have Brell on the brain, and cannot dig yourself out from under it. An old enemy, always buried…quakes and cracks upon the land. They make the attack upon their holy land. Crusade to take it for all his children. Growls and drool below the man of stone and stein.”
It was all she could say.
These new details of the prophecy allowed me to narrow my search; gnolls, kobolds, minotaurs, goblins, burynai, and dragons. They all make growl sounds, and drool.
The line about Brell could be because it all happens underground, or it could be that the prophecy involves some of his creations such as dwarves, halflings, gnolls, kobolds, and goblins. This is further supported with, “for all his children.” The most telling was, “The man of stone and stein.” That is a dwarf.
The only dwarven civilizations I know can be found on the continent of Velious and Faydwer. Of those locations, Kaladim in the Butcherblock Mountains is the one I know with suspects lurking near by; kobolds and minotaurs.
The dwarves have long held that they are the only true children of Brell Serilis. The gnolls, kobolds, and goblins have long been offended by such claims. They, as well as so many other creatures of the Underfoot, all hold him as their creator. I suspect this prophecy is about the kobolds.
Kobolds are a subterranean, tribal race that resemble oversized attack dogs. Compared with a gnoll they are bulkier, and more stout. They walk hunched over, and often on their knuckles.
They appear to be less civilized then gnolls, as they never don clothes and rarely equip tools, but they are a force to be reckoned with. They are not to be underestimated in their magic proficiency nor in their raw brute strength. They have leaders and shaman that can organize the tribe quickly and effectively.
They have long engaged in a fierce and a horribly bloody grudge against the younger children of Brell, the dwarves and gnomes.
Lore tells of the direct relation of this animosity leading to the birth of the Lord of Despair, Rolfron Zek. This sibling rivalry could easily be fanned into a blazing inferno.
Kobolds are close with nature, especially beings which they consider to be kindred souls, which can allow them to gain the cooperation of other creatures for whatever means.
They believe in the spirituality of animals, but also the existence of their deity and creator, Brell. This can make for a dangerous enemy. They can gain the cooperation of others, and they have the conviction of religion to embolden their crusades.
If this prophecy is about the kobolds and the dwarves, then it stands to reason that it has not happened, yet. It is a warning that the kobolds will rise up after an earthquake and take the city of Kaladim from the dwarves themselves!
No such feat has been attempted, but if they were to organize and shore their numbers they could have an army big enough to take advantage of the confusion and grief that would accompany an earthquake in the Butcherblock Mountains.
I wonder if I should send my studies of this prophecy to the dwarves of Kaladim, or if they would simply laugh it off. I am not a seasoned scholar of prognostication.
I should do more research before I trouble them.
The Lore of Fauna: The Behemoth
By Prof. Romiak Jusathorn
Planar Influence: Mana Sub Races: Unknown Frequency: Extinct Size: Titanic Region: Global Habitat: Land and Sea
Long before any creature dominated Norrath, there came into existence beasts of legendary nature. Many of these creatures came and left before the deities spread their children across the surface of Norrath. One of these legendary beast types is known as the Gargantile Cheldridea, or Behemoth.
The Behemoths were a race of immense reptile like beasts of gargantuan proportions. They were easily some 180 meters in length with a very broad ribcage. Their limbs were long and powerful, perfect for striking down the greatest of prey.
The tails of these beasts accounted for one quarter of their total length. They often employed the tail in battle with larger beasts of their era. The swipe from such a tail could kill a wurm. They walked upon all fours, but fossils have indicated that they most likely rose upon their hind legs during battles.
The behemoths were placed upon Norrath by entities unknown. I believe that their existence is a gift of nature, possibly a beast sprung from necessity. The Behemoth acted more as a force of nature than an intelligent beast of warlike destruction. They would slumber for centuries at a time and only awaken to destroy budding ancient communities of the few ancient societies of the era.
The behemoths were eventually destroyed, possibly by the major deities who played a stake in the population of Norrath’s prime races. Their immense fossilized bones can be in various hard to reach locations of Norrath. The fossils are quite a find, but never intact.
One Behemoth is rumored to still be in existence and was last recorded in an ancient dragonkind scroll to have been lumbering upon the frozen steppes of the Frigid Plain. This same scroll indicates a fear of these beasts among dragonkind, one of the first races to inhabit Norrath.
It is my theory that some of the early dragon communities could have been laid to waste by a single Behemoth. Evidence has shown that these gigantic beasts often lived a solitary life. For the dragons, it is a blessing that these creatures did not roam in herds.
In early ages, sea captains also reported to have seen the beasts in the deep oceans. There was once an ancient water beast that terrorized much of the Coldwind Coastline of Antonica. From evidence acquired, I believe this water beast to be a Behemoth. That beast is said to have been destroyed by the greatest warship ever built, the Q.S.S. Eradicator. Both the beast and the ship are said to lie in the deep abyss of the Ocean of Tears.
My studies continue and I have found many remains I believe to belong to these thunderous creatures. The greatest behemoth fossils I discovered came from such places as the community of Oggok, the Dreadlands of Kunark and the valley Dragonscale Hills of Faydwer.
Scholars of the Academy of Arcane Science dispute my findings. But I have speculated that the modern day ocean wurm is a distant relative to the Behemoths. They may have merely adapted to the water through means of biological evolution that I have theorized, Jusathorn’s Theory of Bioevolution. This theory explains that mana is the true creator of these beasts.
Mana creates out of necessity. The vessel of mana called Norrath requires bioevolution for survival. The behemoths acted as cleansers or exterminators to the world, mother Norrath’s ultimate guardians, not the children of deities. The behemoths, no doubt, had special innate magical resistances due to their mana nature.
This made them more than a match for any of the ancient races, including those of dragonkind. I believe there to be a quasi plane sprung off the plane of growth where many of these beasts will always lumber. It is on this quasi plane that I shall continue my research.
For further information please reference: “Behemoth, A Force of Nature” by Romiak Jusathorn and “The Theory of Bioevolution” by Romiak Jusathorn.
This is a history of the Fae. Its pages cannot be completed at one time, but must be gained through valor and experience.
Through my own experiences, I can gain knowledge and insight into the Fae.
Tunare, Goddess of nature, gave us life. As she walked through Greater Faydark, flowers sprung up beneath her feet. One of these flowers turned its face toward her as a heliotrope to the sun. “You are precious,” said Tunare, laughing and gently cupping the blossom in her hands. And so, the first Fae were formed of blossoms and Tunare’s laughter. That was the beginning of the Dream Ring, the first Ring in which the Fae realized that their lives were indeed precious.
Life was quiet for the Fae in those distant times. One of the Fae learned the language of the Feir’Dal, our brothers and sisters of Tunare. In time, all Fae learned some Feir’Dal words and added them to our own language, Faerlie. And Joleena took her new language skills into Kelethin, the city of the Feir’Dal. She lives amongst them for a time and when she returned, we made her our first Queen.
Our people had often lived in small bands, roving through the Faydarks. We recognized that we had much in common with the Feir’Dal, and so over time, many of the Fae migrated to live near the trees which formed its base. Many of the Fae died in the Burning Ring, when the armies of the War of Fay crossed the woods, burning everything before them.
Those who were not killed were horrified. We had never witnessed so much death and destruction! And though emissaries were sent to Felwithe, the Koada’Dal sent no help. Much of Greater Faydark and Kelethin were burned, yet the First Children did nothing. Instead, they closed themselves away once the War had ended. And so began the Ring of Sadness.
We helped the Feir’Dal rebuild Kelethin. Who else had they to turn to but the Fae? Queen Cydney oversaw our contributions, channeling our Fae magic to heal the trees and restore the Faydarks to beauty. We mourned, for Queen Cydney’s spirit bud, holding all her memories and experiences, was lost to us forever.
Each Fae is formed from the spirit bud of one of the ancestors. By maintaining the blossom, the Fae can reawaken its spirit and remember threads from the distant past. Many of us who can recall the Ring of Sadness prefer to remember the Quiet Ring that followed it instead, for the Age of War did not touch Kelethin until later.
As the gods seemed to withdraw from us, the Fae’s magical influences seemed to wane as well. Through we had moved away from Kelethin itself, remembering the Burning Ring, Queen Saphrina encouraged us to move back. “There are dark forces everywhere,” she said. “It will be safer for us to join with the Feir’Dal before it is too late.” And so we did, building a wall of brambles to keep the city safe.
The Crushbone orcs proved Queen Saphrina right – they took her life and destroyed her spirit bud. This was truly the First Ring of Chaos. Deterred by the thick brambles we had raised beneath the city, the orcs laid siege to Kelethin, never envisioning from which direction our help would come.
They crept in from Lesser Faydark, an army of brownies, and decimated the Crushbone orcs. They had never been our particular allies before, rescuing us had been incidental to their love of battle. Queen Jillian granted them the status “Friend of the Fae” from that moment onward. The siege was broken, yet the wars raging around us did not cease. Nor did the orcs let up their attempted assault on the city.
An uneasily peaceful time followed – the Ring of Leaving. In a very short span of time, we witnessed some of the remaining Feir’Dal and others leave Faydwer. They spoke of receiving a vision, a word from Tunare. And as time went on, we let the brambles protecting Kelethin dissipate as we moved into the city ourselves.
We thought that troubles times lay behind us now, yet the Ring of Trials had only begun. All around us the lands began to change, groaning and breaking apart. Built into the trees, Kelethin withstood the trembling earth below. We felt we were being tested, but had no way of knowing if we had passed.
The last trial was the death of our young, beautiful Queen Liivika, just two days before her wedding, leaving the Fae to mourn yet again. Some began to question how Tunare could leave us. Others argued that she had not left, that we simply needed to learn how to live like the Feir’Dal. We Fae lost some of our innocence, but we know that we are not alone. Our spirits tell us this.
Changes were wrought, some not as obvious as the madly swirling seas and others very evident. We were growing taller and the shapes and colors of our wings began to differ. The Ring of Regrowth marked a period of rapid changes amongst the Fae. Sadly, during this time two of our Queens disappeared and we were unable to recover their spirits.
The Second Ring of Chaos began with what Outsiders call the Shattering. Shards of Luclin rained down around Faydwer, but fortunately, most of Greater Faydark escaped unscathed. A few of Kelethin’s platforms caught fire and burnt, though most of the city was untouched. Queen Sephria and later her daughter Queen Kilina were both killed by the rain of debris which stopped as suddenly as it had started.
Some days, we wondered what had become of those who had left Faydwer. Where did they go? Did they perish in the Second Ring of Chaos? Would we ever see them or their kin again? For our spirits continued to renew and continued to remember. And then ships arrived as well as parties crossing into Greater Faydark from elsewhere, and we knew that times were changing. Again.
Thus began the Peaceful Ring, which continues to the present. Given our history, we wonder – Peaceful for how long? Queen Oola oversaw the rebuilding of the parts of Kelethin that had been destroyed and left the city to her daughter Amree, our current Queen. Who knows what our future holds, now that Outsiders come once again to Faydwer?