The Scrolls of Lore

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    The history of our world begins with its gods and their formation of the present-day earth. There are eight major deities: Leuh, the god of light and life; Tarn, the god of darkness and death; Laec, god of the sea; Olun, god of the earth; Wyrs, the god of war; Theane, the goddess of philosophy; Reopa, goddess of the harvest; and Metir, goddess of the moon. Of these eight, Olun is held in high esteem and serves as Lord of Auris, the cosmic realm in which the gods dwell. Before the wheels of time itself began turning, the gods were present. They looked down from the golden hills of Auris and discovered a lonely world without form or construct, and Olun decided that he and the others would fill the world with beauty. Laec filled the world with cerulean waters, so that the earth would have sustenance. Olun gave the world firmness, and from the depths of the seas rose five great continents, so that the earth would have shape. Leuh placed on each continent all forms of wildlife, so that the earth would have natural beauty. Reopa planted seeds and crops of every kind in the soil, so that the earth would grow fertile. Then Tarn joined with Leuh in a primordial dance that meshed good and evil, life and death, light and darkness… together, the two created day and night, the two halves of the daily timespan that the world would follow until the end of time. Leuh cast a glowing orb of light into the blue sky by day, and Metir did likewise into the black heavens by night. The eight gods were pleased with their toils, and they named it Ectoria, meaning “the realm astride our own”. And so the first stage of creation concluded.

    The formation of Ectoria was complete, but no beings were there to inhabit the world. Again the gods set to work with their subject of interest, this time intending to populate the earth with living bodies. Leuh looked solemnly at the prospering animals that grazed the grasses of Ectoria, and he fashioned a people in his likeness. They embodied Leuh’s affinity with nature and peace, finding themselves at home with the beasts and plants of the earth. He named them the älfyn, or “elves” in the Standard Tongue that is used today. The elves flourished and traveled to the four corners of Ectoria, but they felt most at home on the continent whose greenwoods and rolling plains were filled with the essence of nature, as could be seen in the warbling songbirds and frolicking deer. In their native tongue the elves named it Viothr, meaning “land of the verdant groves”. Some months after the elves settled on Viothr, Olun gazed out at the towering mountains of the world and was inspired by them. He formed a new race in his image, the worldly manifestation of Olun’s solid will and fondness of rocks and soil. He named them the dweorh, or “dwarves” in the Standard Tongue. The dwarves, consequential of their firm nature, stayed rooted on the continent that they were made on. In their language the dwarves named their home Zekvad, meaning “land of the soaring stones”. Four seasons passed, and the peoples of Zekvad and Viothr blossomed as a flower does in springtime. The goddess Reopa looked down at the elves and dwarves, free to do as they pleased, and in a burst of galvanization she floated down to an uninhabited continent and made a people resembling herself. They held within them a unique passion for cultivating the land, and have since been second only to the elves in herb-lore. She named them the agrun, or “humans” in the Standard Tongue. The humans loved their fertile land, covered with lush meadows and sparkling lakes, and they named it Virund, meaning “land of man”. They lived on Virund for many months before the gods created the last new race to walk the earth for almost a thousand years. The goddess Theane, while poring over her vast collection of scrolls, felt a surge of conviction run through her and rushed to a frost-covered land far north of the others. She sculpted a people in similarity to the humans, but these were imbued with Theane’s great intellect and virtue. She named them the Ardanach; they are today referred to by their native title, though their name loosely translates to “high-born humans”. The Ardanach nearly froze to death in the bitter climate of their northern continent, but they grew accustomed to it and named it Kierne, meaning “land of majesty”. The gods were satisfied with the inhabitants of Ectoria, and returned to the golden palaces of Auris. And so the second and final stage of creation ended.


    The millennia following creation are known as “ages”; each age corresponds chronologically to a period of a thousand years. This is a synopsis of the First Age, known colloquially as the Golden Years.

    In the years following the creation of the Ardanach, the four races thrived and multiplied their numbers tenfold. The elves flourished on their forested continent of Viothr, making their dwellings inside carved-out hollows within the towering trees that formed the woods. Some ventured out to the plains and the coast and made great cities there. The dwarves made sprawling cities of stone on Zekvad, with superior craftsmanship rendering them nearly impenetrable. The humans became reapers of harvest, and they brought many bales of wheat and vegetables of all kinds into the towns and villages that dotted Virund. The Ardanach built cities with great turrets and spires that struck fear and awe into all that cast their eyes upon them. They hoarded large tracts of knowledge in their heads, and brought many new technologies to the world. Their only rivalry lay with the elves, who knew much about their surroundings and how to use them to their advantage.

    Many technologies were invented during this golden age. The humans designed the spade and hoe in 106 to aid at harvest time. The elves invented the bow and saddle in 173, which influenced horse archery competitions in the Second Age. Their invention of the hatchet in 177 greatly improved their woodcutting ability as opposed to the crude saw used beforehand. The dwarves created the pickaxe in 190, hence their elaborate stone cities. While many riverboats were in use as early as 134, the first recorded seafaring vessel was built in 408 by Ardanach craftsmen, who longed to see their kindred south of Virund. This technology gradually made its way to the other continents, and by 501 maritime transportation was commonplace.

    The arcane arts were discovered only a short time after the Ardanach were brought into the world. The first recorded use of magic dates back to 83, when an unnamed elf used his power to speed the growth of saplings at the forest’s edge. Another account depicts an Ardanach fisherman drawing trout from the rivers without a fishing line. These magic-casters, known as mages, became both revered and feared in everyday society. From the founding of the Order of Mages in 161 to the summer of 902, the power and potency of magic was kept in great secrecy. But with the High Council of Mages’ decision in leaf-fall of that year to release magical knowledge to the world, the Great Mage Division began. The Traditionalist rebels felt that the exposition of magic to the rest of the world would mean the end of the Order’s dominion over the secret arts, and so they waged war. Villages were burned, towns pillaged, and forts sieged. The insurgent forces even surrounded the Mage Hold on Kierne in an attempt to take it for themselves. It seemed futile for the Order to continue their defense, for many of their strongest mages had been killed in battle, including Ierun the Wise, High Mage of the Order. The rebels had employed dark magic in their quest to acquire the Order for themselves and “set things right”, catching the remaining defenders off guard. But in 908, the war took an unexpected turn. After six years of fighting, the Traditionalist leader ordered a secession from the Order and his forces retreated to a continent far south of the others. Tarn, god of darkness, graced the newly formed union with his presence and gifted them with powers unknown to any other mortal—the ability to change into the thing their enemies fear most. When next they exacted their revenge on the Order and their supporters, they would be prepared. These shapeshifters became an entirely new race of hybrids and half-breeds, and Tarn named them the Sekvar, and their continent Phaien, meaning “land of fear”. And so the First Age ended.


    The Great Mage Separation was the first and most deadly physical conflict to cross the earth. With the end of the First Age, military conflicts slowly escalated, replacing the Golden Years of peace and prosperity with a thousand years of pain and suffering. During this time, four great wars and a deadly epidemic nearly destroyed the civil population of Ectoria. Their stories are accounted for in these scrolls.

    The worldwide devastation caused by the mages’ civil war sparked further violence in one of the holiest cities on the earth—the elven Vithul, capital city of the Kingdom of Maerr. The elven priests were outraged at the desecration of the Temple of Leuh during the Separation, yet other elves saw it as insignificant and urged the rest to continue with their lives as normal. The priests, highly offended and insulted by the behavior of the accused heretics, demanded justice from the king. Not knowing the correct thing to do in such a precarious situation, King Forleth made a decision that would introduce a deadliness into Maerr that had not been seen for the first time. He ruled that the desecrators be punished for their nonconformist behavior, and so it followed. As was tradition in elven culture, the heretics were forced to confess their sins and then burned at the stake for failing to realize sooner the grave danger of supporting the desecration of Leuh’s holy site. Yet these elves were seen as martyrs in parts of the kingdom. They stood for the right to choose between strict doctrine and freethinking, and small riots rose in retaliation across Viothr. Some of these rebels even began to worship Tarn, the antithesis and polar opposite of Leuh, to spite the priests. This Tarn-worshipping rose in popularity throughout Maerr until King Forleth and the remaining elves that still expressed faith to Leuh put their foot down. Forleth summoned the army—the insurgents had defied not only the king, but also the very god who created them. The elves had no organized military, but they knew how to aim the bow as sharply as any hunter, and wield the blade as deftly as any swordsman. The armed forces of the state bore down on the Tarn-worshippers, and hundreds of rebellions were stamped out in various cities. Yet the insurgent forces were prepared for this, and they marshalled their troops, each outfitted with plated armor and sharpened swords. They performed a successful counterattack, armed more completely than the ragtag team of farmers, miners, and blacksmiths that the king had brought to suppress the revolts. After a crushing defeat at Sóken, the poorly equipped army of the king retreated to Vithul. Gathering volunteer soldiers from small villages across the continent, the militia assembled in thousands at the doorstep of their capital. Forleth opened the royal armories to supply the soldiers; noting their routing at Sóken, the king was determined to win what was now an all-out war. From the gates of Vithul the armies of the state, now fifteen thousand strong, marched to the Vale of Samganur, or the “valley of struggle”, to confront their enemies. And so the First Elven War began.
    Fought in 1106, the Battle of the Samganur ended with nine thousand dead in the king’s army; ten thousand of the twenty thousand in the rebels’ army lay slain. Though over half of the king’s men were dead or dying, the rebels were forced to retreat to the southern tip of Viothr. Such a triumph, won through battle and yet lost by the steep death toll, became known throughout the following centuries as a “Samgannic victory”. Those taken prisoner were forced to swear allegiance to King Forleth and Leuh, and they gave valuable intelligence to the army of Maerr before their execution. The war was ultimately won at the Samganur, but the full eradication of the rebellion dragged through three more years of grueling battle and destruction. The First Elven War concluded with the insurgent forces retreating to Virund with their allies, the humans of Kathar. The end of the war brought peace to the elves of Maerr for nearly six hundred years—but at a price. Over 2/3 of the total elven population were dead, and the remaining civilians grieved over their lost soldiers. The king himself was slain in battle, but the priests of Leuh brought a sliver of hope to their people with the coronation of Prince Fyrn, son of the late King Forleth Meithir. What elves remained in the kingdom of Maerr were known as the Remnant; the rebellious Tarn-worshippers taking refuge on Virund were henceforth bitterly referred to as the Accursed.

    In 1100, only six years before the Battle of the Samganur, tension was rising on Virund. The kingdom of Kathar was locked in a deadly political battle with the neighboring empire of Oletan. The two nations lay peaceful for many hundreds of years, side-by-side, until King Ehran of Kathar began to covet the land and wealth beyond his walls belonging to Empress Trúciel, matriarch of Oletan. But Trúciel was a stern and obdurate figure, and she would not release the land that had held her family’s blood for generations. Ehran, filled with avarice and rapacity, set his many legions forth on the walls of Oletan, and so began in 1104 the Virundian War. Kathar’s walls were filling with an abundance of women and children, and the king would rather risk lives away in battle than have them slowly starve to death at home. After breaching the outer walls that marked the boundaries of the Empress’ land, the armies of Kathar razed every city along their road on the path to conquest. Few lived through the first few battles to tell the tale of their march through the Oletani countryside. Some cities graciously gave up their dominion, eager to find solace in what now seemed to be the more powerful kingdom. Others stood resolute at their gates and fought the advancing soldiers to their last breath. Yet the Katharian armies forged onward still, nearing the Empress Trúciel’s capital city of Menor. After two weeks of raiding and pillaging, King Ehran finally reached the ramparts of Menor. Prepared though he was for the journey, nothing could have braced him for the final battle. Ehran’s sixteen thousand knights were pitted against Trúciel’s grand army of twenty eight thousand men, all fed and rested. Menor’s two, seven-meter thick walls could withstand the most powerful of siege engines, as they had done in years past. Outnumbered one to two, King Ehran had no choice but to stand and fight, or turn and flee. He chose the former, and so the Siege of Menor began. Steel battering rams and fiery catapults besieged the impregnable city for six long months, aiming to find some foothold on the tightly packed mortar and stone. Ehran built siege towers, but Trúciel’s saboteurs dug tunnels underneath the walls and set ablaze the wooden engines from below. Yet this proved to be the very downfall of Oletan. The starving, battle-weary soldiers of Kathar poured eagerly into the breach in the outer wall, for the supports in the saboteur tunnels had weakened the stone ramparts so greatly that they caved in and left a massive opening for Ehran’s taking. Moving quickly into the outer city, much of the defending army lay slain in their wake. Now in control of the outer wall and the land between it and the inner, the knights of the Empress grew worried. Those who remained of the defenders had retreated to their last stronghold, the palace of Trúciel. The ranks of Kathar filed swiftly through the inner gates and wound their way up to the palace. Trúciel, mortified by the determination of Ehran and his scores of men, realized with subtlety that her time had come. She and her guards held out for a short while against the oncoming storm, but none could fully withstand the might of the king, he who felled the great Menor and brought the Empress to her knees. So ended the Empire of Oletan, the greatest victory known to man.
    The whole of Virund was now under King Ehran’s control, but upon his return he was greeted not with praise and adoration, but with rage and political subterfuge. Though in great haste to conquer Oletan, Ehran was not stupid. Before his departure, he’d left half his army behind to defend the homeland in case his military campaign failed and the Empress went on the offensive. But in returning to his capital, he found that the surrogate king had gained more favor in the civil population in six months than he had in sixty years. He had placed on of his younger military officers in charge of the state, General Jechur, and had in essence given him full power over the kingdom. Jechur was already a popular figure in the army, and the common populace quickly looked to the young, strong man who had taken control of the state. When Ehran returned, he found that the people did not want him to return to office; instead, they supported Jechur and his more humble, merciful rule. Not willing to give up his power so easily, Ehran ordered a military unit to storm Jechur’s home and murder him, ending all resistance. But the officer in control of the unit denied Ehran’s request, stating his distaste for the king and his bitterness about nearly starving to death in the Siege of Menor, all for more land and wealth that would ultimately go towards the king’s personal benefit. Infuriated, Ehran demanded an arrest of the traitorous company. No arrest was warranted, however, because the whole of the army backed Jechur instead of the rightful king. Jechur, honored to have such support and disgusted by Ehran’s greed and ignorance of the peoples’ needs, claimed the throne as his own in 1102 without any opposition. Ehran, unable to fight back due to a lack of supporting soldiers, quietly retreated to his countryside estate. He died some years later. Thus ended the reign of Ehran, beginning the Jechurian dynasty.

    In 1109, at the end of the First Elven War, the dwarves of Zekvad began having issues not with politics or religion, but with simple wealth distribution. The two major dwarf clans, Immaz Dheb and Immaz Sed, each controlled essential commodities that were shipped to other nations. The Dheb were miners of coal and iron, and the Sed farmed various crops at harvest-time. While all dwarves were skilled miners and owned or worked in a mine of some fashion, the Dheb controlled many of the ore-rich mines throughout the kingdom of Petrak. One particular mine was discovered by the Sed, abundant with gold, iron, and coal. Chief Misik felt entitled to a third of the profits from this mine, because they were the primary exporter of ores in the kingdom. The Sed chieftain refused to allow any non-Sed miners to enter his quarry, wanting the wealth for himself and his clan. The two clans squabbled over this wealth of natural resources for nearly two years until a fight broke out at the entrance to the mine. The Dheb chieftain, sick of the arguing, sent some of his miners to sneak past the guards and secure a portion of the mine for themselves. The mission was a success, but when the Sed miners arose the next morning to find Dheb dwarves digging away at their treasure, violence followed. The two groups of miners hacked and slashed with their picks before a clever Sed dwarf ran off to find the chieftain. Fuming, Chief Elyi sent a small squadron of axemen to the mine. The warriors set off a barrel of TNT, a dwarven invention, in front of the offenders, and the resulting explosion forced the Dheb to retreat to their homes. Extra security was sent to man all entrances to the quarry. This skirmish began what is now called the Mining Feud. Scholars do not classify it as an official war because of its tendency to consist of small-scale battles. The Feud stretched over sixty years, longer than any documented conflict to date. Yet unlike most wars and struggles, this stroke of enmity ended not with dominance or eradication, but with a treaty of sorts. For the son of Chief Elyi and the daughter of Chief Misik fell deeply in love, and despite the unspoken rule that one should not marry outside their clan, the two did as they pleased. Elyi and Misik were furious and ashamed at first, but slowly they began to realize that the two families could live as one if their heirs could. And so in 1161, the clans merged into one house under one king. King Adan, heir of Immaz Sed, became ruler alongside his wife, Queen Tetar. The king named the united family Immaz Dumkun, meaning “clan of the dwarves”.

    The final war to shake the earth began with another outbreak in the forests of Viothr. In winter of 1674, two Accursed assassins attempted to murder King Fyrn in his sleep. Part of an Accursed faction with contacts scattered throughout Maerr, the rogues were sent on a mission to kill the king and overthrow the elven priests with whom the monarch associated himself with. Infuriated at the prospect of another devastating war but knowing that the kingdom was still healing from its last conflict, Fyrn forbid any action to be taken on the matter. For three years, nothing out of the ordinary happened again. But in the early months of 1678, several murders befell the kingdom simultaneously. Three ranking monks of Leuh were killed in their studies, and the High General and his family was assassinated in the comfort of his own home. Though none knew who the murderers were, it was clear—the Accursed were waging silent war on the Remnant population. Throughout 1678, more murders were committed. Finally, in a fit of rage, King Fyrn stamped his approval on a declaration of war, beginning the Second Elven War. But before marching to war, Fyrn needed to fill in the position for High General. Commander Aramil Sovelis, older brother of Queen Frieth, was promoted in hopes that his military expertise would lead the elves to victory. High General Aramil trained the army and navy through the latter months of 1678, and when the snow melted in spring of 1679, he and his forces were ready. Aramil personally led a fleet of two hundred warships and frigates from the docks of Vithul to meet an oncoming Accursed fleet of 100 galleons. Loaded with cannons, Aramil’s ships blasted through several of the enemy’s with little effort. But the Accursed General Vandir saved his best for last. Slowing the onslaught of cannon fire, the Remnant fleet was unprepared for the ironclad warships that Vandir sent towards their left flank. Destroying eighty of Aramil’s ships, Vandir cut a line straight through their ranks, nearly halving the Remnant fleet. Aramil did not give up, though. Though Vandir’s ships surrounded his, the remainder of Aramil’s fleet made a last stand. They sent vicious torrents of cannon fire at the iron warships, and several were felled. Yet the majority of their fleet still remained, and Aramil’s was thinning every moment. The battle raged through day and night, a never-ending struggle for passage through the seas. Then, sailing swiftly from the horizon as if coming with the rising sun, King Fyrn rode proudly on his gilded flagship, with a reserve fleet three hundred strong trailing behind him. The fresh reserves were armed with more than cannons, however. When a messenger skiff slipped off from the main fleet to inform the king of their thinning forces, Fyrn brought six hundred barrels of TNT with him from his reserve storage. The barrels had been shipped to him a few years prior as a gift on behalf of the dwarves, but up until now he had found no use for them except on the occasional tough spot in the mines of Vithul. Upon hearing the ill tidings of Aramil’s struggle, the king packed the barrels inside the storage rooms of his reserve fleet and sailed onward to meet General Vandir in battle. With king’s fleet now encircling the Accursed ships, Aramil’s fleet was liberated from the continuous bombardment with the coming of Fyrn and his reserves. Vandir’s galleons switched the focus over to their right flank, where Fyrn was closing in. The king’s warships took the barrels of TNT and fired them from their cannons at the iron fortresses. The explosives blasted straight through the hulls of over a hundred ships in a matter of hours, forcing General Vandir to retreat to his defensive lines on Virund. So the Battle of Vestri was won, named after the western coast off of which the three fleets converged.
    With victory within their grasp, High General Aramil and King Fyrn merged their fleets and sailed westward with the gilded flagship at the head, trailing closely behind the retreating ranks of the Accursed. The Remnant armada reached the shores of Virund and quickly docked to begin their march. The elves swept through eastern Virund, slaying the all Accursed individuals who inhabited that side of the continent. They followed Vandir’s forces at a distance, soon coming within view of his fortress. The thick stone walls cast a brooding shadow over the valley in which it was situated, but the Remnant elves were not afraid. Unlike the long and fiery battle that shook the seas, this assault was short and decisive. As was customary, Aramil sent an envoy to demand the surrender of Vandir’s fortress and the ceasing of the murder attempts. The messenger was greeted with a volley of archer fire from the ramparts. Vandir sent his ranks out of the stronghold, forming the defensive lines of his castle. King Fyrn led half of the land force forward to fight the enemy head-on while Aramil prepared the other half with TNT barrels. The saboteurs dug under the defending ranks and placed their explosives beneath the walls. Lighting them on fire on by one, the bombs blasted clear through the walls and left mounds of rubble where sturdy ramparts had been once before. Aramil’s elves swept through the fortress, setting all alight in their wake, while Fyrn and his swordsmen cut through the ranks of the Accursed. Having no choice but to flee or be killed, General Vandir told what little elves he had left to disperse. He himself tried to flee the battle, but King Fyrn and his elves bound his legs and bore him away. Finally home after several weeks at war, King Fyrn sent Vandir to an interrogation room where he was questioned about the inner workings of his conspiracy before being executed. No longer were the Accursed a threat to the Kingdom of Maerr. They all but faded into history as a symbol of what could happen if the Remnant elves were roused. Thus ended the Second Elven War, the last to trouble the people of Ectoria to this day.

    The final and most deadly of all vices came not in the form of sword and shield, but in that of sickness and anarchy. The Affliction, a plague that swept through Ectoria in 1952 using rats as its host, ravaged the earth for six years before its healing salve came in the form of a potion. During that time, millions fell to the illness and the subsequent anarchy. Many cities crumbled and fell into ruin as their people died off. Yet out of the darkness rose a new age, an age of new beginnings. Though much of Ectoria had been destroyed through wars and plague, the Third Age brought a sense of hope to the world once more.


    The Third Age, the New Age, is our current history. We are writing it right now with every act we make. Though we have made it through travails and adversity, death and destruction, it is up to us to live up to the name of our era. We have accomplished feats the gods thought unthinkable of mortal beings. Yet we are not perfect. There are still troubles that mark this world, and the Affliction has cropped up once more in the past few years. Some have heard rumors of war on the winds. But it is up to us to perfect our world. We have grown prosperous and wealthy, almost more so than our ancestors in the First Age. The people of Ectoria have a mission: to build up our world from the ground once more. That is the task set upon us by the gods, one we must follow until our deaths.