SHATTERED HEAVENS
An old dwarven legend of the fall of man and the following chaos war of Mistmoon.
By Corey Hollenbach
I watched the beacon to the north from my home high on the mount of Eagles Nest just like many others did at night and mused on what it may be. What magic could make such a light shoot from the glacial krags, from the maw of ice as the northmen called it? It drew all the foolhardy warriors, dwarves and men like moths to a flame. On that one particular night I heard a voice like thunder echo from the mountains as if the world itself was in anguish. The light that drew the jarls waned again and in the blackness of that dreadful night an army marched from the maw. Death marched that night and both human and dwarven kin scattered, scared to view what had come.
It was 200 years ago, only but a flicker of time for an old dwarf such as I. I still remember the days that followed. 14 years of troubles, of war for our people. Whatever it was that came out the maw… The eye tyrant they called it. It ate up the world and turned the casters and kings against us. South the black army spread, first devouring the nine villages and Frozen Falls, then down along the lake to old Lutzguard and over the surrounding hills. The northland burned black as the army of darkness breached the sorcerer’s city. Nothing could stop it! The ivory city known as Hadrion fell. Those that held up the sky failed and went mad. For the first time I saw a million stars in the sky. As young as I was I did not know the reason then. I only thought it was beautiful, but the elders they knew and they panicked. The covenant between the gods and man was to be broken.
With the halo gone the gods of man could see the terrible bloodshed and terrors that man had left loose upon the world. Pe had promised humankind salvation but at the sight of this destruction he turned his back. And so then with all the cosmos to bear witness the moons aligned once again as they do every 1,000 years. Those sorcerers and ancient dragons that survived and were uncorrupted made their way to the calling mountains and waited for the word. One word from the gods. One word that would shatter the heart and mind of any normal dwarf, man, or elf. And on the third day it was received… And the word was DEATH. And the world was to be without life.
Ki-Misrea, the orc of the blessed three stole the sacred flame and retreated deep within EnThoth. Eathos followed with two dwarven armies 300,000 strong and to this day none have returned. The whole of the elven court was divided and half were sent deep into the earth as well. Some believe these became the drow, changed by some found darkness, or perhaps just by the wickedness of their spider queen. What remained of the court of casters pushed through the south annihilating everything in their path and merging with the black army. There were a number of dragons and casters that refused the word and built up strongholds against the mad mages. The dwarven kingdoms retreated to their mountains and for the first time in a millennium the gates of Glin, Faust, and even Eagles Nest were closed and sealed tight.
I cannot be sure what happened next but from those who were late to close the gates and from the men that came to us after we are told that the gods thought it was best to end the planet of EnThoth themselves. From within the heavens came a bolt of fire miles across, heading straight for the lakes and if not for the rusty moon above it would have destroyed us all. Instead, it struck Ollune splitting her in twain, shattering the heavens themselves in a million pieces and raining brimstone down upon the world. Those on the surface I’m told resorted to cannibalism when the crops failed, murdered each other over stale bread and muddy puddles. What’s worse is the war raged on between rival mages and the black army spread across all of EnThoth. Terrible spells were cast ripping holes between the planes. Magic vortexes created haunting storms that still rage today. Creatures that rival dragons were conjured up and set loose on the land. I’ve been told from the Shivering Seas to the Storm Straights nothing was left but death and decay.
It was a half-elf who ended the chaos. 44 years after the heavens shattered he raised a force of 3,000 casters and warriors to stand against the endless army of evil and undead. Nevin Tresendar did what no others could in that moment. He had the courage to take up arms against the impossible. He was the strength when the world was weak. Mile after perilous mile he marched drawing the attention of survivors till his army stretched six leagues and was flanked by the dragons Pantragohhn and Bahhamut.
Legend has it that the final battle was fought in the largest crater made by the fallen moon, and on that day Pe saw there was still hope and honor in the heart of man, o be it Nevin was only half-man. As Nevin and his companions surrounded the last standing thrall of undead the forgotten god granted him his blessing. Nevin’s blade lit bright with the fire of a thousand suns and he cut down the frozen king and his bride the reaper queen in two fell swings. His companions, a dwarf no less, by the name Brand Swifthammer, and the young elf Triss Raliene were amazed when their weapons began to glow as well. They quickly dispatched the last of the enemies with the help of the dragons. In the end Triss’s final arrow found its mark in the central mass of the fabled eye tyrant, Brand’s hammer smashed the black orb that controlled the undead army, and a promise was whispered to Nevin that so long as half-elves walked the land as a symbol of kinship between the races, so to would Pe’s blessing on mankind stay true that they may forever walk in peace on EnThoth without threat.
The ending of this tale may change depending on who you talk to but that was not the end of the heroes, oh no. See, there was one last task given that day. Something more to the bargain. There was a darkness left in the fragments of the black orb and Pe had to make sure it was dealt with. Some say that the three heros took the fragments of the black orb to the fires of the Ember Mountains and retired as royalty in high towers. Some say that they tossed the stones to the seas and far away lands so they may never be found. Some even say that they still guard the pieces today, forced to protect them for eternity. Me, I think there was never any orb at all and the famous half-blood heroes lived only in legend. I only know that when I emerged from the mountain the heavens were shattered, our moon had turned to a mist in the sky above, and all the land smelt of death.