The True Dreamers
History of Arastia Vol II
The Shattering Vol II
So it was on the day of the signing of the final treaty, an ill wind blew over the proceedings. The rest is a nightmare; a cauldron of dark tides that bodes ill for the future of all Arastia. The twisted Elves and their Orcish minions had been busy, raising an army of the fallen. The years of war had provided ample fodder for an army of undead. Twelve fallen captains were raised as dark knights and lead the hosts of the unclean unto those gathered at the Vale.
The savage slaughter that followed extinguished the light of the west, every lord was slaughtered, every king killed, no minion was spared. But there was a cost to those dark ones. The soothsayers held augury and say that King Anjouno rallied in the end and destroyed most of that dark host. But surprised and outnumbered, even the best of the best cannot avoid defeat and the King of the West died, just after sunset, on the end of a Dark Knight’s sword. But, he had time to utter a fateful curse before this. Those Elves and Orcs who had betrayed peace would be cast down from their own people for all time. They would be marked by a fear of sunlight and a weakness of the eyes. Nevermore would they see light without great pain. The day would belong to us, the survivors, giving us chance, however slight, of eventual victory. Those Orcs effected by the curse, showed few outward signs of change, they walked at night and grew stronger than their brethren. They are now called the Black Orcs. But the Elves, the brotherhood, became the color of pitch and burned in the sun. Those that were not killed hid away and stole underground lairs from the defeated Dwarves. So the accursed Dark Elves were begot.
Was I lucky? I was here to record the momentous birth of King’s twin sons since he could not be present. Instead, the Queen died a birthing and the sons were born not into this world. Even in the few months since Lord’s Fall the remaining communities of survivors have become islands. Few dare to be in the open after dusk, for all manners of horrors stalk the night. The dead walk and the darkened ride the night.
Will new Lords rise to replace the old? Will we forever be a shattered, shadowed people? For now the people survive but I fear the worst is yet to come.
from the Scrolls of the last days of light.
Year of the Lord’s Fall