The Downfall of the Light

Azoormarel clasps his hands and bows his head as you ask about the downfall of the Light.

The historian closes his eyes momentarily and brings his hands up and around and then re-clasps them behind his back. He opens his eyes once more and breathes deeply before beginning to speak.

"Though history is often a study of the people and cultures that have come before us, the tale of Duris' history is muddled with the tales of creatures not from this world that have come again and again to ravage or heal the planet. Within the annals of history, we find truths, knowledge passed down, stories of heroism and despotism, and most of all we find pieces of ourselves buried within the relics of the past."

He sits down upon a bench and motions you to plush seat of crimson velvet trimmed in gold. He takes some time to gather his thoughts as he looks at you; studying your face for signs of your ancestry.

"You have heard me speak of the time when most artifacts and knowledge seem to disappear from our history. We date things back only as far as we can, not having anything from the ages previous. Much of the history of this planet was destroyed in the Outcasts War..."

A wistful look comes over him as he speaks, and a glistening sheen can be seen in his dark blue eyes.

"I was but a few years old when I first learned of the War. The first stories I heard were tales to scare children into behaving. They were fantastical and unbelievable to me. As I aged, I heard more details of what had happened, and was able to sift through the myth and legend to get to the heart of what really happened. My studies as a young man brought me to places most men would never see in their natural lives; and the rest would never wish to see. Great bulwarks of stone and mortar, cast into jagged teeth that rise from the ground from vast craters of blackened and scorched earth. Dry and cracked riverbeds, stained by leeched poisons and chemicals snake their way through dead wastelands of broken rock. Yes, I saw these things and marveled at the destructive nature of the War. Time has made the wounds worse some how, removing the organic and leaving only a lifeless husk of land that most living creatures avoid like death itself. I came across only vague shadows and dark creatures that quickly fled into crevices and fissures, where they stared back with greedy, shining eyes."

With this, the old man gives a visible shiver and coughs. He composes himself and continues in a more hushed tone.

"Many of these places existed, and from each I was able to piece together the real story behind the events leading up to the Outcasts War. This is what I believe..."

"For several years after Year 528, the area around Tharnadia had become more dangerous and lifeless. Animals that had lived near the town slowly moved elsewhere, leaving the grasslands and forests surrounding the city. A strange form of grass began to grow in the lands surrounding the city. The plant grew tall as an average man, with wide leaves that hung down like sad faces. The plants spread throughout the surrounding area, obscuring sight and limiting the Tharnadian Patrol's ability to keep the roadways safe. Roving bands of the Dark began to attack caravans at an alarming rate, causing widespread fear among the town's citizens. A curfew of some sort was put in place, and as the years rolled by, Tharnadia became more and more isolated. Small mercenary bands became necessary to keep goods flowing to and from the city, but even they could not completely discourage the Orcs and Ogres from the roadways. The plants that had grown tall allowed Duergar and Goblins to move in large packs through the foliage without being seen. Soon the marshalls of the city began to fear an all-out attack, and began mustering forces from whomever would come.

"In the hour of dusk on the night of the Grand Harvest, a scout reported a sizeable group of the Dark moving their way towards the city. The marshalls immediately dispatched everyone to the outposts along the roadway, hoping to deny the city to the evils."

"In this move they sealed their fate, and wrote the beginning of perhaps the saddest tale of our race. A single hour, or perhaps two had passed since the last garrison of troops had moved out of the city, and a quiet rumbling began in the northwest area of the city. The wealthy nobles of the quarter puzzled at the sound that was growing beneath their feet. The vibration rolled along and became a tremor that shattered mirrors upon floors and rattled jewelry in cases. Alarms and shouts of an earthquake went up and the sounds of running, screaming and crying filled the streets with fear."

"The tremor lasted less than ten minutes and then faded to nothing. The ensuing calm saw many people out in the streets, looking at buildings and structures to determine what, if any, damage had occurred. Loved ones embraced and the thoughts of the town turned once more to the spectre of evil that lay somewhere out beyond the gates."

"When it happened, it happened quickly."

"A fissure began to open in the Noble's Quarter, first sucking in single stones one by one, and then opening wider and swallowing much of the entire quarter. Lavishly appointed houses buckled and tumbled towards the gaping hole, slipping over the edges of the crack and falling into the dark void below. A great cloud of debris shot into the air and obscured vision for a few moments as those who hadn't fallen into the abyss gazed in horror. The screams that followed were quickly silenced as fell arrows whistled upwards from the crevasse. A great horde of orc, ogre, troll, goblin, duergar and drow flowed forth from the tunnel and into the city proper. They fanned out, slaying all living things in their path."

"By the time the first fires had consumed the roof of the Ogre's Foot, most of the damage had been done. The few guards who had seen the fire, and had turned back to the city, were quickly cut down by groups of marauders exiting the gates. By dawn the next morning, the razing of Tharnadia was completed and the black, silver and violet banners of the Army of Deep Night flew from the towers alongside the gatehouse..."