Nothing but dirt.
Weeks have I spent at this site, digging into the dirt with
my callused and cracked hands. And for my troubles, I have
naught but dirt. Dirt on my clothes, in my eyes, filling my
tent. The dry winds carry it in clouds as thick as it lies
on the ground. I have had little taste in my mouth save the
accursed dirt for days now.
Though I do know the healing ways to sustain myself, I fear
that even I will not be able to last much longer in this
waterless, sand-blasted desert.
The winds are blowing out my candles now. I have finished my
writing for today.
The ruins that tower about my campsite sheltered me from the
brunt of the sandstorm last night. I am thankful that even
if they do not reveal their secrets to me, they have at
least made it bearable to dwell in their presence.
In the heat of mid-day I scaled a nearby dune, and at its
top I took in the broken desert about me. The crumbling
walls and arches of the ancient city stand as remnants of
incredible disaster. But looking through this veil, I began
to gain a sense of the great city that once stood here. For
as far as my eyes could pierce through the desert day, the
ruins of the great city of Muirthemne stood about me, and I
was humbled in the presence of such magnificent glory of
forgotten ages. I now understood how the Heron Guard of the
Cath Bruig could be so distraught at seeing their beloved
city destroyed by Balor and his Fallen Lords. Though this
atrocity is almost two centuries past, many still wear the
robes of the Journeyman, as I do.
I do aspire to be counted among the ranks of the Heron Guard
someday. But, for now I am contented with aiding the needy
and uncovering our ancient past. Oh, how we have fallen! The
knowledge of our very history is lost to us - buried under
these mountains of shifting sands.
Still my shovel has uncovered nothing this day. Yet still I
Light of the Wyrd, this day has been Portentous! Where do I
It was morning when I had seized a few small eggs from the
rock lizards near the cracks of the ancient walls. Looking
for a shady spot for my meal, I found a darkened cliff face
nearby. As I approached, I began to notice something odd.
The windstorms of the previous nights had eroded the cliff
drastically since it had last made my notice. And now, as I
scrutinized, I saw a perfect vertical seam running through
It took me no time to gather my equipment and return. With
chisels and great shovelfulls of dirt, I slowly uncovered
the miracle. It was a doorway. A doorway set into a cliff
side that was not truly a cliff. The tons of rock and soil
were covering a large structure of some sort. And with the
blessing of fate this portal had been exposed for me to
find. My excitement knows no bounds, and my imagination
cannot be quelled. At first light I will try to open this
door into the forgotten past.
It has been several days of feverish excavation. It appears
I have underestimated the size of the doorway. It is three
times the height of a man and nearly the same dimension
wide. I have moved a literal mountain of dirt from them, and
yet their base appears to be still deeper into the
Just as the orange blaze of the horizon slowly gave way to a
star filled night, my shovel hit rock. Finally, I have
reached the base of the portal. Over a fathom of soil have I
uncovered to reach it. I think of the terrible magics that
werwe called upon to bury this city, and I shudder.
I have bent two chisels attempting to part the doors even a
crack. I fear that I may run out of equipment before I get
this thing opened. The only good news I have this day is
that the howling winds have abated.
What horrors have been visited upon me? I cannot conceive
what I have witnessed. Wyrd protect me!I had moved my meager
encampment to the base of the doorway - I fear this is what
has angered the thing. It was late day when I felt the devil
breeze begin to blow. Strong it grew, and I had to cover my
nose and mouth to breathe. The wind battered me like hammers
and sucked the breath out of my lungs. As I rushed away from
the rock, I felt the wind abate. It was then that I caught a
glimpse of the thing.
As the funnel of dust moved with the sinuous spirals, I saw
lurking within its depths a shadow of human form. It
remained motionless as the column of dust spun about it. The
white embers of its eyes stared directly at me as a rattling
cry howled out over the wind.
After that, I can only recall running from the place.
I returned to my encampment today. Having spent another
restless night in the open desert, I found my resolve. The
thing which met my intrusion was undoubtedly a guardian
spirit. I remember hearing tales of ancient sorceries which
could bind a spirit to the very mortar of a place - forcing
it into servitude for one-thousand and one years.
I have returned to the doorway. I had hoped it had gone, but
as I approached, The funnel of dirt spiraled back into
fearsome shape. I again retreated to my campsite.
I must think of how to rid this place of such a thing! I
believe the lack of water has addled me somewhat.
I now know what I must do. I have no malice in my heart. If
the creature at the portal is indeed a guardian spirit - and
not some horror born of the atrocities committed here - it
would only attack if it sensed malice. I can think of dozens
of reasons why this line of thinking is flawed. Yet, somehow
I feel this is correct. I fear that if I were to leave to
gather aid from my distant comrades, the spot would again be
covered by the shifting desert sands. I cannot allow that.
If I am to die, I have lived a good scholarly life. I will
leave this journal behind, in hopes that someone may find it
if I have failed.
Great Wyrd in all his Glory! The discovery that I have
found! The secrets and mysteries of the ages have been
re-discovered! I must get back to the citadel and tell the
others of this! I have made what notes I could, but there is
information here that will fill entire volumes of books!
I will try to write down what has occurred to me in the last
few hours as accurately as I can with my trembling
I walked to the stone entrances and confronted the guardian.
As I approached, it rose from the sands like a serpent. Each
step I took towards the doors, the stronger it became. Its
winds buffeted me and forced me to my knees, but still I
crawled. I heard a voice like dry leaves whisper of horrors
that would befall me if I did not flee. It was only the
powers of Wyrd that granted me the will to continue. I
stretched out a flailing hand and touched it upon the stone
In almost an instant, the fell winds stopped. I heard the
hiss of sand falling onto the ground. Crouching and working
sand from my eyes, I saw that the guardian had left me. As I
tried to stand, a great rumbling shook the earth. The doors
of the ancient building had begun to open. Sand ran in
streams down the face of the cliff and into the yawning
darkness of the portal before me. With a great thunder, the
tremendous doors grinded to a halt. Beyond was only
darkness. Even the bright light of the desert day could not
penetrate into the black opening.
Fetching a dry log from my campsite, I wrapped an oily rag
about it to make a primitive torch. At the precipice of the
doorway, my flame revealed a long room lined with long
pillars. The long hallway danced in the orange light of the
torch as I began my exploration. The building appeared to be
a temple or shrine of some sort. The cataclysm which ended
Muirthemne had extraced its toll on the building. Many
pillars were toppled and areas of the ceiling shattered by
the rock above. Who or what this temple was dedicated to was
As I walked down the dirt covered tile floor, I spied a
shallow oil basin or brazier against the wall. Hoping for
some extra light to see by in this cavernous hall, I dipped
my torch down and lit the black fluid within. As the oil
basin flamed to life, a rivulet of fire trickled down the
wall behind it. Fearful that the stone basin was cracked, I
moved to extinguish the flame when I noticed that the
flaming oil resevoir was carved into the wall itself. The
smokeless flame descended to the edge of the floor and
continued its flow away from me, carried by a thin trough
built into the wall. Amazed as I was, I did not hesitate to
follow the moving flame.
The flame was leading me deeper into the structure. Ducking
past a fallen pillar, I turned into a vast opening. The
whole of the cavern was darkness. Even the torch I carried
did not give light to the immense expanse. The oil flame had
darted into the room and began to spread. To my amazement,
The flames began to crawl up the walls of this chamber in
fabulous intertwining flickering lines of light. As I
followed the flaming trails, I was stunned at what I was
A mural drawn of fire. Gold inlays caught and reflected the
orange light as the flames illuminated scenes from the long
forgotten past of our world. Heroic spearmen battling
against furred monstrosities that could only be the vile
Myrkridia. Massive Trow, wearing suits of armor, attacking
castle walls. A cloaked villain directing shambling forms
towards soldiers. All this and more was depicted in the
As I stood in awe of the incredible fiery arabesques, I
began to notice the room becoming brighter. The flames had
lit small braziers inset upon massive stone pillars,
disappearing into the still darkness of the towering
ceiling. I gazed down at the tile under my feet. Beautiful
mosaics ran the length of the floor, showing stars and
strange writings. Walking deeper into the still brightening
chamber, I began to see the tiled pattern that I trod upon -
and realized the purpose of this temple. Under my feet a
brilliant comet was depicted, its frozen white flames
glittering on its blue canvas of night.
This was "the Apparitor" - the celestial occurence that
happens only once in a millenia. As this revelation exploded
into my thoughts, a great light began to shine.
Great mirrors had gathered the flame's light and focused it
into a golden globe suspended at the far end of the shrine.
Beneath the fiery globe towered a statue ten times as tall
as a man. A crown rested upon his brow; his hands upon the
haft of a mighty axe. His shadowy eyes were stern, but I
could not help but sense sorrow deep within them.
I was standing in the shrine to the greatest Emperor of the
Cath Bruig - the greatest hero to ever live. He who saved
humanity from utter destruction over a thousand years ago.
He who slew the nightmare Myrkridia and crushed the iron
temples of the Trow. He who defeated the dark sorcerer
Moagim and brought an end to the age of Wind.
I had found the shrine of Connacht the Wolf.
It took several hours of exploration, but I have uncovered a
stone vault lined with rows and rows of scrolls held on dry
wooden racks. These scrolls hold the sacred accounts of
Connacht's life. Undoubtedly, they have only been seen by
the clerics who worshipped at this shrine so very long
I plan to carry these scrolls back to the Heron's Citadel.
With their deciphering, the long lost histories of our world
might once again be revealed.
"The World of Myth"
The Fallen Lords
The great comet had returned to the eastern sky –
heralding its dark prophecy.
The Leveler, destruction made flesh, had returned in the
form of Balor, a fearsome warrior who wielded phenomenal
powers. Balor had made unholy alliances with many an evil
race, and with the aid of his resurrected generals, The
Fallen Lords, laid siege to the great Cath Bruig empire.
Battles went unabated for years, but eventually the Cath
Bruig empire had retreated to their city of Muirthemne. With
cataclysmic magics, Balor utterly destroyed the legendary
city – ending almost three thousand years of its
Balor's evil eyes then turned to the cities of the Province,
west of the Cloudspine. Their dark forces swept into
Covenant and utterly devastated the city. The human armies
recoiled from the attack. If not for the leadership of the
Nine – powerful sorcerers called Avatara –
Balor's army would have stood unchallenged.
The Nine forged an alliance with the Fir'Bolg and the
Dwarven races to aid their cause, and the army of Light was
formed. This rag-tag army was all that stood against the
Fallen Lords and their legions of undead.
Uncovered from the bowels of a dark mountain, something was
found to turn the tide of the war. A severed head was found
– a head that retained its life and knowledge. It
knew many things forgotten by modern man. It claimed to be
an old adversary of Balor, and would aid the Light in
Aided by the erudite knowledge from the head, one of the
Nine defeated the Fallen Lord Shiver as her armies were
poised to destroy Madrigal. The Total Codex was recovered
from the ruins of Covenant, just where the head said it
As the winter months rolled on, battles ensued at the snowy
passes of the Cloudspine. It was then learned that the Trow
had been freed from their molten prisons and marched with
Balor. As the volcano Tharsis erupted, news of the leader of
the Nine, Alric, had been captured by Balor and his forces
As three of the Nine entered Forest Heart to ask for aid
from the Forest Giants there, the Fallen Lord Soulblighter
imprisoned their army into a magical artifact named "The
Tain." The army escaped, destroying the Tain, at the cost of
all but one Avatara.
A small band of heroes ventured into the barrier and rescued
Alric. He told them that the Head had betrayed them. Back in
the Province, the Head had begun a civil-war which was
bloodily ended at the price of many lives.
Alric, again in leadership of the Nine, planned a desperate
attack. Marching the remaining legion across the Barrier and
into the Dire Marsh, Alric meant to bring the battle to
Balor, stationed in the Trow city of Rhi'anon. With two
Fallen Lords arrayed against them, the legion managed to
slay the Watcher with magical arrows and marched into the
The arrayed armies of the Light and Dark stood ready to
battle. From the Tain was retrieved a Myrkridian standard,
which Alric raised upon the battlefield. Balor, enraged at
the ancient slight, appeared in person to destroy the
legion. But this was all according to Alric's plan. With the
power of an Eblis stone, Alric immobilized Balor just long
enough for his head to be cleaved from his body.
Balor's head was raced to a World Knot, where a small force
took the thing to the Great Devoid. Evading Soulblighter's
forces, the head was thrown into the Great Devoid, ending
the life of Balor and the soul of the Leveler.
Against all hope, the army of the Light had won the war.
Sixty years after the Great War, the cities of the Province
were rebuilt and few remember the horrors of that epic
battle. Alric was now king, ruling from his throne in
But, in the shadows lurked Balor's lieutenant, Soulblighter.
Vowing to complete what Balor had started, Soulblighter
secretly gained many followers with the promise of dark
knowledge. These followers began to use their newly learned
necromantic powers to raise an army of dead within the
A small group of soldiers foiled a local baron's dark
schemes, and in turn uncovered Soulblighter's deadly plan.
He was looking for the Summoner – a man prophesized
to release the Myrkridia into the world once again.
As this news reached Alric, he quickly gathered forces to
defend their nation against Soulblighter's fiendish designs.
The city of Tyr had fallen, and the reports say that the
force was lead by Shiver, a Fallen Lord thought killed in
the Great War. As Alric and his force left for the city of
Tandem, they saw to their horror that Soulblighter had been
successful in finding the Summoner and unleashing the
Myrkridia. In a hopeless battle, they retreated, as the
terrible force marched to Madrigal.
To battle Soulblighter, Alric hoped to find the Fallen Lord
the Deceiver who had been buried under the ice at the Stair
of Grief. Alric hoped that the Deceiver would aid him in his
new plans to stop the tide of evil. A small force made their
way through the snowy pass, found and revived the Deceiver,
who indeed vowed to aid the army of Light, bringing with him
the aid of the Warlocks of Scholomance.
Shiver, Soulblighter, and the Myrkridia, continued their
rampage in the Province, as Alric moved his army across the
Cloudspine and into the ruins of Muirthemne. There he
announced his intent to restore the Cath Bruig Empire to its
former glory, with himself as Emperor. The army did indeed
retrieve the Ibis crown and Alric was crowned as the new
Emperor of the Cath Bruig. The penance for the Journeymen
was over, and they threw off their heavy robes in favor of
the heavy armor and dual swords of the Heron Guard of old.
Muirthemne was renamed to its ancient title: Llancarfan.
The Deceiver led his troop into the Forest Heart, looking
for a shard of the destroyed Tain. Upon finding one, they
entered the Tain itself. There they confronted the Summoner
and put an end to his malevolent magics. On their return,
the army was captured by Soulblighter's forces. But it was
all according to the Deceiver's plans; having escaped their
cells, the troop soon overran the encampment. In the
Struggle, the Deceiver had killed one of Soulblighter's
ravens, preventing him from taking flight ever again.
Alric returned to the Province and led an army to confront
Soulblighter near Silvermines. There Shiver and her army met
the legion and bloody conflict erupted. Alric sent the
Deceiver and a group of heroes to track down Shiver and put
an end to her. In the clash that followed, the Fallen Lords
squared off against one another, and in the end both were
slain by the other's magics.
Soulblighter fled Alric's pursuing armies, making his way
into the bowels of Mount Tharsis. There he began a dark
ritual that would sunder the Cloudspine and shatter the very
world. In the last moments, Alric and the legion met the
fiend and put an end to his deadly spell. The mountain was
destroyed and Soulblighter with it. Alric, now Emperor of
the Cath Bruig, moved the capital to Madrigal and once again
began the long process of rebuilding.
Of Balor's Fallen Lords only two remain, though their
whereabouts are unknown.
Many sages and scholars look towards the future with
uncertainty. The cycle of Light and Dark, which change the
face of the world, has been broken. As Connacht brought an
end to the evils of the Wind Age, so was Balor to bring an
end to the glory of the Wolf Age. And yet, in this new age,
the Light has remained triumphant.
Many believe that with the destruction of the Leveler,
mankind can now forge its own path on the anvil of fate.
But the future is never certain.
"The History of Myth"
In The Beginning
The origins of the world are shrouded in mystery.
It is said that the Wyrd, a deity or being of great power,
had created the world out of a dream. As he awoke, all that
his eye beheld became as the lands of his dream.
This dramatic reshaping of the world angered the goddess
Nyx. She had just breathed life into her new creations, the
Trow, only to have the entirety of the world change. Trow
legends claim that Nyx and Wyrd had a titanic battle that
shook the very rock of the world. Nyx had caused a great
wound to Wyrd, which formed into the volcano Tharsis, but
Wyrd would not fall to her assaults. In her rage, she called
upon the powers of the Dark Gods to aid her. The Wyrd was
shattered, his powers flung to the corners of the world in
rocky fragments. And yet, the One Dream of the Wyrd
The Age of the Trow
The Trow witnessed the birth of the world. Their ancient
eyes beheld the evolution of the beings we know of today
– and many that are still unknown.
The Trow spent their time forging stone monuments to their
beloved goddess and creator. Gradually the other "lesser
races" began to create their own civilizations. The Forest
Giants made their homes in their towering arbors. The frail
Callieach began to learn the arts of magic. Still other
races rose to power as primitive human-kind still lived in
barbaric savagery. Content to live solitary lives of
worship, the Trow did not take any interest in the world
outside of their realm.
Seeing the Trow as threatening giants, most races avoided
them. Other races were not quite so wise. A race known as
the Sileh'hei, coveted the Trow lands and knowledge.
Believing the Trow's aloofness to be a sign of weakness,
they sacked the Trow's temples and brought them to war.
Having never fought a battle in their history, the Trow were
shocked by the savagery of the Sileh'hei, and many fell to
their wicked attacks. For the first time, the Trow saw
members of their immortal race die.
The Trow priests prayed to Nyx, pleading for her aid. And in
the temple at Rhi'anon, she whispered to her children the
secret of iron.
Forging iron weapons, the Trow defended their homeland with
vigor. The Sileh'hei were not prepared for the full extent
of the Trow's wrath. Even when they ended their attacks and
retreated to their mountainous caves, the Trow pursued them.
Angered as they were, the Trow hunted the Sileh'hei to
extinction. The Trow had learned to war – and now
they turned their eyes to the other races who would
interfere with them.
Nyx's gift became a way of life for the Trow. No longer did
they fashion their monuments to her in stone. Entire shrines
and the temple-complexes were forged from solid iron. And so
the Trow began to mine for more iron ore for the glories of
Nyx. As those mines ran out, they sought even more veins of
the ferrous metal. The fires for their forges burned day and
night; tremendous smelting fires that rivaled the very sun.
As the forests around their lands were lumbered until
barren, the Trow looked for a new source of fuel.
Beginning to harvest the massive trees to their south, the
Trow came into contact with the Forest Giants who made their
homes there. To the Ents, cutting down a living tree was
akin to murder. They confronted the Trow and forbade them to
harvest the trees of their homes. But, the Trow did not heed
their pleas, and continued their deforestation. The Ents had
no choice but to fight. The war between the two colossal
races was long and brutal. In the end, the Forest Giants
were unable to stand against the might of the Trow's iron
weapons. Leaving their ancestral home, the Ents traveled far
from the Trowlands, eventually making their new homes in
Forest Heart. The Ents would never forget how the Trow
"poisoned the soul of iron."
In this time, the Callieach had become masters of the ways
of magic. They created powerful magical devices that could
move mountains, incinerate cities, and make themselves
immortal. They had found many of the fragments of the Wyrd,
naming them Runestones, and from them gleamed insight to his
dreams. These powerful Dream-magics could change the very
fabric of existence. It was these powers that caught the eye
of the Trow.
Seeing the powers learned by the Callieach, the Trow desired
to use these abilities to create even more impressive
temples to their god. Being more disciplined in war than in
conversation, the mighty Trow began to lay siege to the
cities of the Callieach, taking their knowledge by force.
Many Runestones were captured by the Trow and taken to the
mighty stronghold of Si'anwon. Angered and unable to reason
with the arrogant Trow, the Callieach warned them to stop
their assaults, or there would be retaliation.
The Trow continued their attacks, destroying whole cities to
acquire the Callieach's knowledge. It was then that the
Callieach called upon their most powerful magics. In a great
cataclysm, the Trow stronghold of Si'anwon was thrust into
the earth and summarily flooded by the great sea –
The Runestones and artifacts of power lost under the frigid
The Trow were outraged at the lesser-race that would dare to
defy them. Years of systematic destruction commenced. Even
with their world shaking powers, the Callieach were crushed
under the Trow's iron clad feet.
As the last of the Callieach race fled from their home,
followed by an army of Trow, they reached a high mountain,
and made their stand. Summoning the dream magics of the
Wyrd, They ripped a massive hole into reality; destroying
themselves and their Trow pursuers in one apocalyptic
conflagration – creating the Great Devoid.
The Age of Darkness
Slowly, humanity began to rise out of its primitive state.
The brutish tribes, formed into warbands, and then into
nations, and then into kingdoms and empires. Humans warred
with themselves and with any other races they thought they
In this time of warfare and strife, an evil was awakened in
the world. It is not known whether it had existed before the
world was created, or if it was created out of the
atrocities of war, but this malevolent entity desired
nothing but the destruction of humanity – and all of
the world with it. As the great comet passed into the
eastern sky, the being's power grew to epic proportions; as
with the comet's departure a thousand years later, it's
power waned. For thousands of years this cyclic fluxing of
power has caused the destruction and rebirth of human
civilizations. Yet its presence and clandestine schemes
remained unknown among the people of the world.
As human civilizations were built and destroyed, a few
learned scholars began to sense a pattern to their history.
They rightfully believed that every thousand years, a
powerful warlord will appear to destroy civilization. After
that, the hold of darkness on the world would lessen and
humanity would once again rebuild. They began to call this
accursed entity "The Leveler."
Sometime during these many ages of light and darkness, a
powerful sorcerer named Bahl'al learned of the Callieach and
the great powers over life and death that they held. Lusting
for unknown powers, he explored the sunken ruins of Si'anwon
searching for the lost Callieach Runestones. After long
weeks, he indeed uncovered a Runestone, and from it,
rediscovered the Dream of Unlife. With this sinister
knowledge, Bahl'al had become the first human
The fierce and loutish Oghre of the cold wastes resented the
Trow to the south of their lands. They saw the iron
monuments and edifices to their goddess, and called the Trow
"The consorts of Nyx." The pride of the Trow was pricked.
They would not stand to such an insult to their very way of
life. The Trow had become master metal workers over the
thousands of years, and constructed complex suits of armor
for their kind. These Iron Warriors marched into the Oghre's
lands unhindered by their meager defenses. The Oghre's
fortresses were torn apart and those who were not killed
outright were chained and brought to Rhi'anon as slaves.
Those slaved were forced into the iron mines, to dig for the
metals that would be used to create even more shrines to
Nyx. Thus, the race of the Oghres had become entirely
enslaved to the Trow.
The Leveler's powers continued to control the destiny of
humanity. Its powers grew stronger with each passing
millenium. It was feared that soon the Leveler's power would
never wane – that it would defeat humanity utterly
and exhale its breath of death upon the world. In this
desperate time, a poet and philosopher named Tireces would
be the Leveler's downfall.
As the Leveler, in the form of Sorangath the Flayed, was
poised on crushing the city-state of Tiruth'Dannor. Tireces
rallied the disjointed forces and fought back against the
Leveler's legions. Through a great battle, Tireces had
fought his way to Sorangath and beheaded him in a bloody
duel. The Leveler's armies were routed and crushed.
Sorangath's body was put to the torch and the name of
Tireces spread across civilization.
This victory against the Dark ushered in the Age of Reason
and the dawn of enlightenment for mankind. Alas, though the
mantle of the Leveler was destroyed, the evil intelligence
behind it lived on.
The Age of Reason
Unhindered by the destructive force of the Leveler, mankind
began to prosper. Thoughts of charity and education had
usurped the violent instincts of the past. A great warlord
named Clovis of the Bruig strove to unite the many kingdoms
of the realm. His successful campaign brought about the
Empire of the Cath Bruig, the strongest and most prosperous
civilization in the history of Myth.
The Cath Bruig forged alliances with many other races,
sharing knowledge and trading goods. The Dwarves of Myrgard
became close compatriots to the humans. Even the reclusive
Skrael of the mighty city of Yer-Ks extended their scaled
hands in friendship.
In this time, Mazzarin, the most powerful of human
Archmages, dreamed of forming a college of magics; where
practitioners of the arcane could come together and share
their mystical knowledge. And so, the great citidel of
Illuan was constructed for that very purpose. Sorcerers,
Dreamers, Summoners, and Diabolists from across the known
world came to teach and learn from their peers. Their
combined knowledge rivaled even the Callieach in portent.
The most learned of Archmages were dubbed "Avatara."
As the Trow continued to expand their empire, they
unrelentingly harvested trees for their great iron forges.
This brought them into conflict once again as they
devastated the forest homeland of the fir'Bolg. The nature
loving fir'Bolg mounted a defense, but they stood no chance
against the unstoppable Trow. Slowly, they fled into the
west, seeking a new forest to call home. This led them into
the downs, a vast wild area of the Cath Bruig Empire. It is
unknown how it started, but a battle between the outcast
fir'Bolg and the fearful men of the Downs was waged. The
Cath Bruig sent their armies to weed out the invading
fir'Bolg from the forests, and the ensuing campaign took
many years and yielded nothing but suffering for both sides.
The fir'Bolg were finally chased out of the Downs, crossing
the Cloudspine, and eventually settling in the Ermine, far
from humanity and Trow alike. The Empire had gained
considerable respect for their enemy in the conflict, and
though they were saddened at the atrocities committed by
both sides, they did adapt the use of archery for their
The Avatara eventually opened their school to anyone seeking
knowledge of the magical arts. A sorceress of great skill
joined their ranks. Her name was Moytirra, and her fevered
studies and lust for power was noted and even feared by her
peers. After many years of training, she was initiated into
the order of the Avatara. It was then that her dark desires
were uncovered by Mazzarin. Moytirra and many followers were
conducting sinister rituals in the pursuit of power. They
called upon the Dark Gods using methods utterly forbidden by
the enclave. Mazzarin confronted her about her unholy work.
She defended her actions with zealous fervor, believing that
power must be gained at any cost – even one's soul. A
sorcerous duel erupted between the two Archmages. As the
flames died down, Mazzarin was the victor. He bid Moytirra
to end her pursuit in the black arts or leave the Avatara.
She cursed his name and left the citadel, taking many
followers with her. As the years passed, Moytirra created
her own sorcerous school – the Order of
Centuries later, the knowledge amassed by the Avatara had
disseminated into common society. Even the smallest village
had a wizard professing some knowledge in the arcane.
Bahl'al and his necromantic powers had come into conflict
with the Cath Bruig and the Avatara many times. As he and
his undead hordes were defeated, he would seemingly
disappear for decades, only to appear again with an army of
corpses twice as strong as before. The Avatara were the
first to give him the name "The Watcher."
These horrific battles against undead armies had finally
taken its toll on the common man. A band of nobles began
speaking out on the evils of magic. They believed that all
powers beyond sight stemmed from foul sources – that
those who practiced in magery were a danger to the
The Great Cleansing had begun. Anyone practicing sorcery was
exiled, put to the torch, or worse. Necromancers were
targeted above all others, and the knowledge of many healing
and life-giving spells died with them. The Cleansers became
fanatical, attacking even the Avatara in Illuan. It took
many years and public decrees to quell the Great Cleansing,
but in the end, magic wielders became a rare thing
And after a thousand years, the Comet once again flared in
the Eastern sky, and an ancient enemy began to stir once
The Leveler had returned. With its insidious power, it
breathed horrid life into the body of Tireces, using his
long dead foe as the herald of the doom he would bring.
Calling himself Moagim, the Leveler used Tireces vast
knowledge to begin planning the downfall of humanity.
Even the Avatara who knew of the coming of the Leveler were
not prepared for the fury of his onslaught. Vast legions of
the dead assaulted the empire as dark magics trembled the
earth. Moagim commanded his armies with mastery –
using black-hearted tactics and savagery.
The epic battle raged on for years. Moagim's armies swelled
with the corpses of the vanquished. Yet, with the focused
might of the Cath Bruig armies, Moagim began to lose
footing. As the war raged, Moagim saw that his remaining
days were few. Refusing to admit defeat, the Leveler devised
a plan to avenge his unavoidable death.
With terrible magics, Moagim created a doorway into a
distant world of nightmares. There he found creatures
lurking within the black depths that gave even him a tinge
of fear. With bloody force he held their attentions and
beckoned them into his world...
Soon after this dark ritual, Moagim was indeed captured by
the Avatara; his forces utterly smashed by the imperial
soldiers. Moagim was dragged before the citadel at Illuan,
and drawn and quartered. Before his body was torn asunder,
he laughed at the assembled Avatara, knowing that even in
his death, vengeance was his.
The victory over Moagim was short lived. Tales began to
spread of horrific beasts who attacked under the cover of
night. Soon these tales became far too real. The Myrkridia
were loose in the world. Their numbers seemed limitless, and
their appetites unending. The Myrkridia tore the nations of
man apart within mere years. The Age of Reason had ended,
and civilization became as dust upon the wind.
The Wind Age
Only the splendid city of Llancarfan had withstood the
assaults of the Myrkridian horde. The few survivors banded
together in protectorates, which after centuries of
relentless fighting, devolved into barbaric clans and
The Myrkridia continued to hunt humanity to near extinction
throughout the Age, but other races suffered equal ravages
under this dark time. The Skrael kingdom of Yer-Ks toppled
beneath the sea in a cataclysmic magical upheaval. The
pitiful survivors made their homes in the marshes to the
south of their Drowned Kingdom. The Dwarves of Myrgard began
a war against the scavenging Ghols, who raided their cairns
and defiled their shrines. The Oghre remained slaves to the
Trow, who still tore through the earth to find more iron for
Many people had fled their homes to escape the Myrkridia.
Many settled in the area north of the Cloudspine, and
integrated with the peoples there. The villages of the
shoreline were preyed upon by sea-borne raiders. But when
the Myrkridia reappeared, the villages and the raiders
formed a protectorate against their common foe. And thusly,
the Twelve Duns were born.
The area of Gower was an inhospitable place of rocky soil
and harsh winters. Yet the flood of refugees spread even
into this unforgiving land seeking escape from the
Over the centuries, the number of Myrkridia had dwindled,
but still the ruled the night. Many grew fatted off of easy
prey, but they still retained their feral instincts.
The Cath Bruig Empire had all but fallen. Sheltered behind
the walls of Llancarfan, the empire is only a shadow of its
former self. Only the Downs remains in their protection.
The Wolf Age
A thousand years since their release, the Myrkridia have yet
to be defeated in battle. And now their numbers appear to be
The Dwarves fight a hopeless battle against their age-old
enemies, the Ghol.
And a Necromancer of great power has arisen, claiming to be
none other than Moagim Reborn.
And in this time of darkness, a comet has appeared in the