Rise of the Orcs – The Fall

“Rise of the Orcs – The Fall”
Second Edition

This book details how the orcs would nearly succeed at toppling the two most powerful cities on Norrath.

The following historical account details the orc’s involvement during the short, yet devastating, War of Defiance. Simultaneously laying siege to the two largest cities on Norrath, the orcs would come close to achieving greatness, only to be crushed in the final moments. Several accounts of this time period still exist in varying forms, which have been condensed together within this volume.

Snow Orcs: Numbering only in the hundreds, the Snow Orcs would have their numbers reinforced by the Avatar of Flame’s hidden army. Coming from the Plains of Karana, hundreds of goblins and giants would join their ranks to do battle with combined forces of the humans. The resulting clash between forces would echo halfway across the world.

For eight days, the battle would rage. Giants would smash the Qeynosian Guard, druids would kill orcs, but neither side was winning. Ultimately, the Qeynosians would make a valiant charge that would end the war. The Knights of Thunder would land a killing blow against the Orcish horde by severing the head from the Avatar of Flame’s shoulders.

Losing the guidance from their divine leader, the giants, goblins, and orcs would finally to fall to the Qeynosians. Not having enough troops to hunt down the stragglers, the fallen army would scatter to the four winds. The few remaining Snow Orcs would be routed back through Blackburrow, and that is where history would last see these people. It is not known how many Snow Orcs survived the journey through their former slaves’ den, but it is known that orc bones would be seen in the gnoll’s rubbish pits for months to come.

Deathfist Orcs: The siege of Freeport would not bode well for the Militia. Not expecting the combined might of the orcs and the ogres, the Militia did all they could just to keep the walls standing. Soon enough, the humans would realize that the orcish and orgrish armies were doing nothing more than taunting them. When it was noticeable in the faces of every one of the guards that all hope was lost, something unexpected happened. A greenish mist began covering the land for as far as the eye could see. Filling the lungs of everyone, it seemed nothing more than an odd weather phenomenon. Nothing could be further from the truth.

The orcs would look in horror as they watched as all of the ogres began to cough up clouds of green colored mist from their lungs. These spasms would become more and more violent until the ogres would collapse dead from asphyxiation. Looking all around them, the Deathfist army would see every last one of their Rallosian brethren lying dead on the battlefield, with nary a scratch on them. To make matters worse for the orcs, the battle would be joined by two other armies, intent on finishing what the green mist had started.

Though their numbers were unimaginable, the Deathfists were not able to withstand an army on three fronts – The Freeport Militia on one side, the Ashen Order on another, and the Knights of Truth on the last. The orcs would not go down without a fight, however. It would take the death of the Avatar of War before the Deathfist would be routed. With their numbers reduced to the mere hundreds, the Deathfist orcs fled past the Ashen Order monks towards the Desert of Ro, where they were never seen again.

The orcs would neither be heard nor seen for the next several decades. Aside from isolated clans that remained out of the War of Defiance, Norrath believed the threat was forever gone. With the coming of the Rending and later the Shattering, the endless hordes of the orcs would begin to become nothing more than stories again. This would prove to be folly once again.

The re-emergence of the orcs would first be seen in the Commonlands. A clan calling themselves the Bloodskulls would begin to become a new threat to Freeport. Using siege engines, Freeport has managed to keep these orcs at bay, but they must remain ever vigilant. Coupled with this clan that emerged overnight, those foolish enough to ply their trade on the sea lanes claim to have seen great armadas of ships roaming the water. Those that have survived these encounters claim that the people crewing these ships are not just people, but rather, orcs.

Some unfounded reports claim that that the Deathfist Empire had managed to survive their defeat during the War of Defiance. These stories claim that the phantom armadas exist and it’s nothing more than the naval branch of the Deathfist Empire. Even wilder stories claim there is a land filled with these orcs, and not only have they rebuilt their Empire, they’re preparing for another attack on Norrath. Fortunately, these stories have no proof to validate these foolish claims.

Paying Homage to the Past

Untold ages ago, the Faceless One, Cazic-Thule, placed us upon the lands of Kunark. Scattered and unlearned, we were enslaved by the terrible snake-like Shissar with their curses and wicked enchantments! At last one day the skies opened up and the sacred Green Mist delivered us from our enemies. Unaffected by the mist, we watched as our captors melted away. In the midst of a cacophony of screams of terror and anguish the iksar were freed. Today we remember the destruction of our oppressors by desecrating an article of their creation.

Over the centuries, many tribal states were established as we spread across Kunark. It was one iksar, Venril Sathir, whose knowledge of battle and necromancy allowed him to conquer and annex all the tribe-states. Using the might of the united tribes and the slaves of conquered lesser races, the mighty fortress of Sebilis was built. Imposing and beautiful, Sebilis was a place of learning and lore where for many long years we honed our skills and thrived. Under Sathir’s rule as the first King of Sebilis, he established the great Sebilisian Empire. The jealous dragons, however, saw our greatness and knew we posed a threat to them.

The meddling dragon known as Trakanon was not content to leave us alone. Through his treachery, he turned our servants against us and led a group of his kind to Sebilis and destroyed it! Many iksar were slain then and we honor them by lighting a funeral pyre from the remains of iksar slain in these times.

During the time of the Rending our beloved Kunark was beset by terrible earthquakes and the Lake of Ill Omen flooded the city of Cabilis. It was during these times that a large sailing vessel carrying many of our kind to lands far away was smashed by a massive wave. Many survived this tragedy by swimming to the shores of a nearby island.

For nearly a year the survivors lived on that island until the Overlord caught wind of their presence. After a series of fierce battles he captured the survivors, brought them back to Freeport and tried to enslave them! Years passed, but despite the Overlord’s best efforts, he could not break their spirits.

As the Rallosian army spread across all of Norrath, the Overlord knew he could not repel these aggressors without our help. In exchange for our freedom, we fought valiantly alongside Freeport’s own army and crushed the Rallosians with the help of the same Green Mist that had killed our former oppressors, the Shissar! Today we remember our brief captivity and toss the Overlord’s tools of oppression to the bottom of the sea, where they can never be used to hinder the mighty iksar.

3rd Lieutenant Gerrog – Logbook

3rd Lieutenant Gerrog – Logbook
Second Edition

This is the journal of a very important Lieutenant in the Second Rallosian Empire.

Entry 14: We march through the Feerott. It is a good march. It is a quiet march. Nothing lives within the Feerrott since we have last passed through. The General personally leads us. The Arm of Vallon marches behind us. The Rathetear Mountains is our destination. We will stomp on the bones of the gods we once defeated. This time they cannot stop us.

Entry 17: We have changed course in the march. The forgotten temple of Cazic-Thule is within sight. The General tells us in command that the Amygdalans will join our ranks or they will be destroyed. I pray to Rallos that they refuse to join us.

Entry 32: We have entered the foothills of the Mountains of the fallen Rathe. The Amygdalans have refused to add their numbers to our ranks. Let them hide in the temple for as long as they wish. It will be their tomb. For now, we will take the land of our forefather’s defeat and turn it into victory.

Entry 40: The General has detached us from the Arm of Vallon. The Arm, hundreds of scores in number, will continue marching north. They are to cross the Lake of Tears. Then they are to annihilate the gnolls. The Arm of Vallon will conquer the Karana plains. There is no question this will be done.

Entry 57: My command, led by the General himself, have easily taken the Rathetear Mountains. The Hill Giants recognized our superiority and bowed to our will. The lizardmen have been eradicated. If I listen closely, I can still hear the sound of the dead gods of the earth weeping. The Rallosians are conquering Norrath. Their curse has failed.

Entry 61: Taking the Hill Giants with us, the General will no longer tolerate the insolence of the Amygdalans. Their claims of counsel received from the Avatar of Fear are worthless lies. Their Avatar would never have allowed us to capture the Gate leading to their dead god’s plane. The only true Avatar is the one that inspires us – the Avatar of War.

Entry 67: When I was a runtling, my mother’s mother told me of the temple of Fear. She claimed it was filled with unimaginable nightmares waiting to destroy the world. She was wrong. NOW it is filled with nightmares. Us. The Rallosians.

Entry 79: The final Amygdalan has fallen to the black blade of the General. The ones we have captured have been forced to watch as we begin to tear down their precious temple. They incessantly chant prayers to the god of green mist. If their god cannot stop us from tearing down their place of worship, what makes them believe their god will save their worthless hides?

Entry 83: This great temple lies in ruins. All that stands is the sacred tomb the Amydalans pray to at the center of this temple. We received word that Guk is being scourged as we speak. The split-pawed gnolls have been exterminated. The Plains are ours. Freeport is about to fall. The General is about to enter the heart of the temple and personally defile the tentacled one’s most holy of all relics – the Forbidden Sarcophagus. When he has done so, the Rallosian Empire will know that we have conquered one half of the world. The other half will follow.

Entry 84: Bring this journal to your commanding officer, Rallosian. They must know of the fate of General Urduuk. When the box was opened, a green mist oozed out, crawling into the General’s nostrils. He barely had time to grasp his throat before falling over dead. One by one, thousands of Rallosians suffered the same fate. I sealed myself away inside a nearby stone coffin before the vapors reached me. It will not be long before I run out of air, for neither air or Green Mist can enter this casket. I will die as a Rallosian inside this tomb. I will not die as a forever-cured ogre outside to the Green Mist.

History of Frogloks

We are the children of Mithaniel Marr, god of valor. He has given unto us a greater share of honor than was given to any other creature. We would rather die with honor than extend our lives through deception of any kind.

This can be challenging for others–the concept that laws are not meant for the breaking. While we try to be understanding that not everyone shares our belief, it is still distressing to see rules bent and broken. The laws of the land are not simply suggestions, as some seem to think.

Such is the way of the troll. After many attempts to peacefully coexist with them in the Innothule Swamp, their utter disregard for protocol finally provoked us to battle. The blessing of Mithaniel Marr was with us as we drove them from their filthy city of Grobb. In His honor, we renamed it Gukta, Outpost of Marr.

Some may wonder why we contented ourselves with a simple home like Gukta, when our obvious intelligence indicates we might prefer plush surroundings. That is not our way, you see. It seems those whose skin is laced with hair need warmth and softness in their surroundings. We are comforted in other ways.

Others have said that we frogloks are too proud and that we deserve the challenges that have been our lot through the Ages. We do not deny the pride we feel in our heritage. We were created by Mithaniel Marr, after all. Through his grace, we have overcome many adversities that would have brought others to the brink of despair.

When the ogres of Rallos Zek began their reign of terror, they tried to start with Gukta. They thought they knew all the deepest reaches of our territory, thinking that we had not changed or developed it after wresting the city from the trolls. The ogres fought without honor, to their own detriment.

We are not taken unawares with ease. The foul ogres thought to destroy us, but we were guided by the Hand of Marr. Our eggs were carried deep into the tunnels, followed by elite forces to guard them. Deep beneath the marshes we went. We sent emissaries to Freeport to advise the Overlord of the rise of the Rallosians.

The Overlord brushed our concerns aside and so, with barely three days’ rest, our emissaries headed to Qeynos to warn the Bayles. Though sympathetic, they chose only to increase their watches rather than advancing to attack before the Rallosians expanded their reach. How we wished they had listened! The Rallosian Army grew in strength and power until the cities of Freeport and Qeynos were besieged.

The blessings of Mithaniel Marr still protected the faithful. The honorless ogres broke faith with their own allies, defiling the Temple of Cazic-Thule. And so, in the darkest hours when it appeared that the Rallosians would conquer all, the Green Mist covered the battlefields, slaying our enemies. However, not all our enemies were destroyed.

Though many of our adversaries perished in the time of the Green Mist, some escaped by continuing to pursue us. Deeper into the marshes we fled, and still they followed. It was then that we felt the rage of the gods.

By failing to stand our ground and hold back the tide of the enemy, we disappointed the gods who had held us high in their trust and esteem. Punishment was both swift and severe.

Though we had escaped the Rallosians, we could not escape the torments to follow. The Rending kept those of us who had scattered apart. Separated from any other honorable race, we drifted into oblivion.

And yet, oblivion would have been more kind than that which we endured. For those of us who found our way to the Feerrott were taken prisoner by the Tae’Ew, who fed us to their god.

Generation upon generation of froglok has been subjugated by the Alliz Tae’Ew. They demanded service and, weakened by the calamities that had befallen us, we were in no position to rebel. Until now.

In secret, several of our strongest broke free and are repeating the journey made so long ago when we first sent word to Freeport and Qeynos that the Rallosians were on the move. Surely we have atoned for our offenses against the gods and will be saved.

Encyclopedia — Shissar — Vol. I

Escaping the Green Mist

Nearly two thousand years before the appearance of the Combine Empire, the Green Mist swept over Kunark and decimated the Shissar. Over a period of a year, tens of thousands of Shissar succumbed to the green death. However, during that time, the coddled emperor, nobles and their slaves isolated themselves from the lower castes in an attempt to prevent their own demise.

Emperor Ssraeshza, the military and spiritual leader for the Shissar Empire, spoke of a vision that promised to deliver the noble Shissar to Luclin, the moon. He assured all that he could release them from the clutches of the Green Mist. Emperor Ssraeshza and his supporters firmly believed they could start their empire anew on the moon and be free of the Green Death forever. Alas, there were some nobles who were in disgust of Ssraeshza’s plan, chiefly Zhisza, who quietly set to work to find a way to remain alive on Norrath. It was their dream to retreat, rebuild and return to reclaim their empire.

On the day that Ssraeshza and the remaining Shissar cast their great spells to teleport to Luclin, Zhisza and his
followers executed their own plan. As Ssraeshza moved through time and space to the moon, Zhisza and his nobles teleported deep within Empotith, an underfoot school of Dark Arts that had been under construction. When Ssraeshza and his followers arrived on Luclin, they presumed Zhisza and the others dead.