The True Dreamers
History of Arastia Vol I
The Shattering Vol I
It is said history is written by the winners. Perhaps, but our recent history is left to us to write—the survivors.
I, Eltian, am last scribe to King Anjouno of the Estrella, Elven enclave of the Garden of Grelessa. With the Lords and Kings dead, so falls their courts and I suspect history herself will be silent for a time. My own lord died as all the others. Before I tell his story, know the events that lead up to the loss of all of our leaders. Already, some have dubbed this year, Lord’s Fall. There was never peace in the lands, but the struggle worsened three score of years before. All of the human tribes of Northern Jestrka joined against the settled lands below. They left their frozen halls and journeyed South, burning and ruining years of Elven cultivation. Worse the Orcs of Ithkan hills and The Red Tooth, drove from the East towards the heart of our homelands.
When the first Silvertree fell, burning from Orken torch, our Elven family committed to total war. The humans of the Mandasta Valley pledged to our cause and we fought for our homes and our very lives. The Barbaric Jestrka had coerced the greedy, bearded ones to their cause and so Elf battled against Man, Orc and Dwarf alike. Those men, who were faithful, fought, brother-to-brother against their own. Their family names will be sung long in Elven hall, Hargouth, Ralla, Wellin, Nordal, Sanderson all will be remembered with our own for their courage. For nearly a generation, of the humankind, there was war throughout all of Arastia. The young were sent to fight, and butchery spared few. Yet the smallest, the Halflings and Gnomes, retreated from this fight, calling it foolishness and hiding away in their nestled valleys. Perhaps they were right, but we saw little choice. Magics on both sides called up horrors that are not easily dismissed. I fear, now loosed, these creatures will plague us for generations hence.
Finally, with the aid of the Mandastarians, we drove the armies of invaders back. At long last, it was time for an ending. Despite our bitterness, we agreed to meet in the Hallowed Vale of Evernest. There our enemies would surrender and our captains would know the true victory of peace. With an honor guard of hundreds, our king and lords and our allies lead by King Hargouth of Mandasta, would journey to the vale, joining with the Dwarven King of SilverSlag and his ministers, the Orcish chief Redskull and his followers, as well as, Jesrick King of the Jestrka, and all his highest minions.
So the peace process began. King Anjouno was a wise ruler. If there was to be a lasting peace then the conquering spirit of the defeated invaders would need to be blunted and turned to peaceful pursuits, ere the peace would not last. He offered trade and, to the consternation of many Elves, he offered some of our dearest secrets of the green. Summer turned to fall in this great meeting. Most of the scholars of the realms now joined their leaders to draft proposal and treaty alike.
We thought a peaceful age had come and all wanted to be witness to the great events. Our best and brightest gathered, and the ranks of those at Evernest swelled. Even the Orcs brought their strongest Shaman to The Gathering, as it was being called. But the only peace they would find, is the peace of the dead. Some Elven hearts, those darkest amongst us, turned cold and hateful by years of war, making a secret pact with their very enemies the Orc. The Orcs strength lay in war not in the sowing of peace. And so a Secret band of Elves grew, calling themselves The Brotherhood. They believed there could never be peace with the rabble and so they betrayed us all. They shared the foulest arcana with the Orcish Shaman. Secrets we thought long forgotten or destroyed.