The Sword to Unite

by Peter J. Hopkins

  Kendrick knelt before the fair maiden Juliana, whose beauty had overwhelmed his senses, and he was struck with a profound and sincere love for the lady. The man Kendrick had little to give as a gift, and so offered his chestnut colored steed, the cunning Fairfax, as a gift. Juliana, so refined and elegant, blushed red when the noble lord knelt and placed his hands in hers, vowing to love her for all eternity. Kendrick came to live with her for many weeks in the forest, where they promised themselves to each other under the light of the Northern Star for all time.

  The day came when Kendrick was called home, for his neighbors had come to war in his land, and his expertise in battle was required on the front. He left his lady in tears, and with his torn golden cloak, so that she would always remember their vow to one another.

  In the wars of his homeland, Kendrick was brave and fought well upon the field, and each night took to his tent, to pray the gods deliver his war-weary body back to the arms of the one he loved.

  It was in this time of strife and doubt that the demoness Beelzus appeared before the nobleman, clad in her disease-ridden vestments, and rotted flesh. She too had fallen in love with the mortal, and outstretched her mangled arms, saying, “my lord your maiden cannot love as I do, for she is but mortal, while I am forever. Join in my embrace and become immortal as I.”

  Kendrick spurned the advances of the foul Beelzus, “get out dirty thing! For I could never love one such thing as long as I still draw breath!”

  For this slight, Beelzus cursed Kendrick, spewing wicked words upon his fate with dark magic. For the days that followed their meeting, Kendrick became afflicted by an undying plague. When he reached for bread or meat, it became like ashen chunk in his hand, and when he thirsted and tried to drink from his chalice, the water turned to dried salt upon touching his tongue.

  He fell ill upon his bed, and his frame became thin and weak, and his eyes filled with dark rings from lack of strength. Life seemed to seep out of him by the minute, and with the last of his will, he took and pen and paper to write to his fairest love. Sending the swiftest bird in his renown, the letter of his failing health reached Juliana in record time. The fair maiden was distraught by the news, but her heart was too fill with the strength to save him.

  Julianna set off on a quest, riding day and night upon the horse of her lover, through the kingdoms of man in search of a cure. She visited wise magi, earthy sages, and all manner of learned folk. On her journeys, she learned of a cure to all illnesses, the Weeping Stream of the Falkland, surrounded by flaming mountains and guarded by a great green dragon.

  Julianna climbed the fiery peaks of the Falklands, and cleverly snuck past the dragon. She found a cool blue stream hidden in the mountains and took a vial of the holy water back to Canterbrick. Here she saved Kendrick’s life, becoming engraved in the myth of northern and elvish legend.

  Dalmar’s Duel with Baphamont

  In the days when the gods and demons warred freely against one another, there came a time when Baphamont led a great host through the kingdom of Glanfech, sacking Hlútrian strongholds throughout the banks of Lake Evrand. King Dalmar, the father of Rohiel, set out with a small outfit of his trusted companions to face Baphamont, while his army was a three-days march away. On the rolling hills of Glanfech, Dalmar met the ruinous host of Baphamont, a horde of savage men and Hlútrians, along with lesser demons each crueler than the last.

  Dalmar alone rode out to a lone knoll on the hills, and challenged Baphamont to one on one combat. Even though Dalmar was renowned for his swordsmanship, it was a foolish thing for any mortal to face a demon in battle. Baphamont would have won that day had he not ordered his army to halt, for he chose to duel the Hlútrian king, buying time for Dalmar’s army to arrive.

  For three days and three nights, Dalmar matched blades with his demonic opponents. Both duelists were torn to shreds by the end of it, and had lost much blood on the field of battle. Dalmar was worse off than Baphamont, who had gashes on his side and his thigh. It was at this moment that Dalmar spotted his son, Rohiel, once but a child in his arms, regaled in full uniform, with a legion of ten thousand marching to his beck and call. His son had raised his army as soon as he heard of the duel, marching day and night to arrive in time. Dalmar knew his work was done, and so let his sword slip from his hand, and smiled as Baphamont sliced through him.

  Rohiel, enraged by his father’s death, took the field by himself, riding across the empty plain amount a black steed, named Tharion, meaning midnight. With his lance, he pierced Baphamont’s leg, bringing the demon to his knee. With another charge, Rohiel sliced off Baphamont’s head with a sword, sending the demon screaming back to his foul realm, his power faded once more from the land of Yennen. Thus, Rohiel came into his crown, the truest king of Glanfech.

  The Tale of Prince Dothriel

  In the ancient Hlútrian realm of Geladhithil, the kin of Duwel lived in harmony with both the natural and the urban. Their cities had great white walls, but were filled with greenery and forests dedicated to their god. These lands were filled with vineyards and large farms, where all who lived were satisfied and made merry. In these days, a brutal war chief, Mushag, of the Thyrs came east from the wasteland, bringing his whole host against these green lands, claiming it as the will of Trundor.

  The prince of these lands, Dothriel, son of Dohri, set off alone to defend his land from the Thyrs at their doorstep. Most intelligent and cunning of the rangers, the prince took only his bow and blade, saying to his father king, “for these are all the things the truest of our folk need.”

  On the edge of the Suthon, the forest bordering Geladhithil, Dothriel set up camp and waited five days until he caught a glimpse of Mushag’s roaming horde. They came numbering nearly three thousand, and the ground shook as they marched in unorganized ranks which swelled like a foaming sea. Dothriel, adorned in silver chainmail and blue cloak, met their host upon the edge of the forest realm. He cried out to the Thyrs. ‘Come and see that there is but one elf who shall turn you from Geladhithil!’

  With this taunt, the Thyrs became red with rage and threw themselves into a mad chase after the prince, who rushed through the forest like a swift jackrabbit. Dothriel hid amongst the trees and bushes, picking off Mushag’s retinue one by one. For three days, Dothriel harassed this band of warriors, till the followers of Mushag rose in revolt, slicing off the head of their king and commander, and leaving it as appeasement for Dothriel as they returned home. With this, Dothriel became known as Sithrak, or Silent Hunter, in orc culture, forever a monstrous tale told to younglings of their great elven foes.

  Regarding Glanfech, the Lost Country

  In the hills of Glanfech, the elves thrived, building great halls adorned in golden trimming and became great rustic lords of the land. Their first king, Brenwi, established his capital city of Evrand, upon the lake of the same name. The three islands that spotted the lakes shimmering water, were connected by massive stone bridges, and significant buildings were constructed, forging a city of the lake.

  For hundreds of years, these folk ruled themselves freely, never submitting to the authority of the Erastrian pioneers nor the Nacian imperials. It was only by the power of Crassus Baal, and his servant Azrael that the kingdom’s power weakened and collapsed. It was at the time of Azrael that the dark one came to spread a shadow across the sky, causing the people of Duwel to be separated from their supreme lord. In this time, the Hlútrians squabbled and engaged in civil war, they grew greedy and forgot their ways, and soon much of their kingdom was lost forever.

  The king of Glanfech, Rohiel the Lightcrafter, son of Dalmar, scaled the highest point of the world, Mount Sveca so that he might pierce the shadowy blanket and commune with Duwel. Upon this mountain Rohiel cried to his lord, ‘Duwel, your people are in peril, they cry out to you, but their prayers cannot pierce the thick darkness that corrupts them. Give me the strength to unite them.’ And so Duwel gave Rohiel instruction to craft a lighthouse in Evrand, where the Hlútrians would survive.<
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  For years, Rohiel worked alone on the tower, laying every stone himself, and all without written plans. When he had laid the final stone, a great bolt of flame descended from the sky and placed itself on the top of the tower, and the fire cleansed the air of darkness. With the sun once more shining bright, the Hlútrians were guided to Evrand, where they gathered and were protected from the shadow.

  Though the Hlútrians were saved, their kingdom was forever lost, and today they maintain only a few holdings outside of Evrand, where they await Duwel’s descending, where he shall bring his people up to his hall to feast and be satisfied.

  Now Glanfech lays abandoned, their great roads and cities are but crumbling ruins, ancient reminders of a lost time. In the hills of Glanfech, the men of Lorine have expanded southward and claimed the golden fields as their own. The traces of Hlútrian culture have had their influence on the Northmen, who now bath in Hlútrian bathhouses.

  The Dweor Halls

  Welund, the god of the forge and fire, created his own kin, hardier version of men, who resided deep in mountain cities. They became known as the dwarves, and the first of their race worked side by side their master god, and together they forged legendary tools and weapons.

  For many years, the Dweor resided in the Belfas and Lorinian mountains, where their people grew in song and strength. It was in Usham, the largest mountain hall, that the dwarves received their harshest blow to their venerated pride. The Dweor of Usham did not craft by hand their newest halls and shrines, rather, it was done by the labor of human slaves. Thousands of war prisoners were diverted to such work. They toiled in the deepening low halls of the Dweor, where no light could pierce the thick rock that became their tomb. One hundred years before Azrael’s return, the slaves rebelled, and lit fire to the vast stores of Usham Fire, flammable when in open source, explosive when in compressed areas.

  The lower halls were destroyed in an instant, taking whole centuries of amassed wealth and knowledge with them. The upper halls were consumed with flame in mere hours, and few had time to evacuate. It was Forrin, nephew to the King Angbar, who took leadership of the survivors. By wit and word, he led his people south, passing through the smaller kingdoms of the Eln as an honored guest, trading trinkets, and relics for bread and ale for his people. Years did pass, and the effects were true upon Forrin’s body, for his younger flesh turned wrinkled, and his brown beard went white. The king never betrayed the needs of his people, for he thought himself their servant, and so he pressed on, ever southward.

  After decades of harsh travel, the Dweor arrived at the Green Mountains, a ranging landscape of such teeming life, which lay snug between Berhungy and Sulita. At the sight of the Green Mountains, Forrin collapsed from his pony, and he wept for the beauty of the land. He composed a poem, dictated to his scribe, for his hands had long lost the accuracy to write. At the widest gap in the mountains, Forrin built a great hall, whose wall stretched from either side, henceforth known as Forrin’s Gate.

  Forrin’s folk came to thrive in the Green Mountains, and they found themselves as often above ground as below, for the mountains were ripe for sowing and shepherding. Gone were the massive halls dedicated to ancestor and god, and in their place, snug hamlets of wattle and daub, where pastures lay filled with sheep.

  Upon his deathbed, Forrin was surrounded by his many sons and daughters, and he found his life complete, welcoming death as an expected guest. In his final words Forrin blessed his sons, and gave them leave over divided sections of his kingdom, ‘Rule not to lord over our people my children,’ he said, ‘Rule to serve our people.’

  The Age of Erastrius

  The Erastrian Conquest

  In Erastrius, several powerful kingdoms came into being. The most powerful of these kingdoms was ruled by King Mathis, who fathered Baudoin. Mathis was vain and prideful, proclaiming that his line would last forever, and he laid the foundation of the capital, Avelem, which now stands as the largest city in the world. In his old age, he constructed the Golden Gardens at his, where he planted the most extravagant of plants from Yennen and Erastrius alike. His son, Baudoin, was enchanted by this botanical wonder, taking study of the plants from Yennen. This fueled his interest in Yennen, and soon, he had engrossed himself in maps and books regarding the land across the sea. When Mathis died, Baudoin ascended in glorious fashion, claiming the title, First-Born, ruler of Yennen and Erastrius, and he built a mighty fleet so that his armies could conquer the land.

  Baudoin First-Born sailed across the Ecestial Sea and established many cities and sea fortresses along the eastern coast of Yennen, praising Matuar, the god of the sea who rises high above the waves in his castled flagship. Baudoin’s journey ended nearly halfway up the eastern coast of Yennen, towards the realm of Geladhithil, where the silver Hlútrians reside. Baudoin died peacefully in his bed, crowing his son, Adémar, as the next ruler of his kingdom. Adémar sought to use his efforts and influence on growing his kingdom from within, focusing on shrewd diplomacy and expanding infrastructure. He also extended through the middle portions of Yennen, reaching the Sea of Stars on the western side of the continent. Adémar never sought to conquer the Tanari, for he could never tame that desert without losing his hold on his kingdom. The hordes of Tanaric cavalry bathed in steel would hold against Adémar in any battle, perhaps even overrun the Sea King. Adémar forged an alliance with the Tanari through marriage, his son, Pippin, to their queen, Athylan. From there the power and influence of Baudoin’s heirs thrived for many generations, bring an age of prosperity to much of Yennen.

  Athylan, the Jewel of Sulita, Queen to the Tanari, and wisest ruler in their people’s history. She has no clear description, save that she preferred her hair draped down to her hips, and wore two rings on either hand. Educated by the finest tutors, she had been bred for court and command from her youth. Skilled in grand stratagem, she crushed the Arron Rebellion, and with diplomacy, ensured no noble would feel the need to rebel again. Her marriage to Pippin was her own scheme, and she is quoted as saying to her beloved upon the bedding, “I am queen to all, even you.” Though proud and headstrong, she had compassion for her husband, and for her people who worshiped her as a champion to their lands. For centuries, this Tanari-Erastrian dynasty has ruled with absolute authority, bringing even the fiercest desert tribes into the fold.

  However, this happy union between Erastrius and Tanari was not to last long, not torn apart by war or plague, but by total doom.

  The Great Collapse

  The Great Collapse as it was known, the disintegration of the marine kingdom of Erastrius. In the last true generations of Baudoin, the kings grew fat and lazy, taking too much pleasure in hunting and festivals and not in the affairs of their kingdom. The king’s debt increased to mountainous levels, till there was not a single copper for alms to spare. A severe cold period also left most cropland yielding nothing. Slowly power ebbed away, until Adémar III left his kingdom in a completely ruined state. His wild nights of debauchery and egotistical nature alienated him from his vassal lords, as well as the people who starved outside his palace walls. He was murdered in a coup, orchestrated by his closest advisors and friends. Bleeding out, the king rushed from his palace and onto the streets of his capital, proclaiming, “Erastrius dies with me!” His corpse was strung up on pikes, and carried through the streets in a crazed mob. That night, the mob became a revolt, destroying the palace, even burning down the Golden Gardens. With the capital in ruins, power quickly slipped away from the conspirators.

  Adémar III’s sons were entrusted to the same court that had murdered their father, and soon, almost all of them were dead, save his youngest, Hadrian. Hadrian had been snuck out of the city by his brave mother Dulia, a common concubine of the late king.

  After this downfall, the Nacian Empire, an offshoot of Erastrian culture, came to dominate the middle regions of Yennen, lifting the Eln folk to the height of Erastrian learning and sophistication. Other areas did not fare as well. They were left to the devices of the
king’s criminal court. Soon, petty kings ruled every corner of the former empire, with no allegiance to the homeland.

  The Age of New Kings

  The People of Tanaria

  After the Great Collapse, the distant descendants of Pippin and Athylan ruled a new realm, known as the Kingdom of Tanaria. It is a common misconception of the other folk of Yennen that this land is dry and barren, filled with fiends mounted upon humped horses. In reality, Tanaria is a lush land, teeming with rich and diverse life. Their religion is of the Stars, which hold the secrets of the universe in their constant shifting and brightening of the night. Their temples are the observatories which dot the land, harmonizing the lives of the people with the movements of the stars.

  To the north of their Sancti Mountains, the Plains of Arron hold many grand estates and villas, and is the land most dominated by Erastrian culture. In those plains, Tanaric horse masters are as one with their steeds, and are the best-regarded cavalry in Yennen.

  Along the western coastline, the Order of Telto resides. An elite order of warriors and scholars, who belong to the cult of Baudoin, whose duty is to always uphold the bloodline of Baudoin. Their castle, Telto, lies behind many layers of mountains and a long rushing river, ensuring natural defenses of their holdings from all directions. Telto itself is a massive citadel, accessible by a narrow stone bridge which climbs hundreds of feet in the air to reach the walls, which are situated on the top of a mountain.

  Also in the west, the principality of Barila thrives. These folk carry heavy bronze shields, and build great works of amphitheaters and temples dedicated to the Stars. Men of science also work tirelessly, forming the finest essays on the natural world, such as medicine and engineering. The land of Barila is green along the coast, with fisheries and farms giving a great bounty. It becomes somewhat arid and mountainous further inland, where tribes of native Tanari live mostly unaffected by their Prince’s doings.