The Swords of
In long ages past, the Chantric Oracle
foretold the coming of twelve swords into which the fate of
Theeurth had been bound. These dozen blades are more than
mere weapons; they are the fulcrums of time itself, and in their
forging is foretold the final fate of all who dwell within the
Walls of Night.
These storied swords gather about them great
heroes and villains, and the rediscovery of one of them always
brings change. Sometimes the change is great, as the rise
and fall of empires; at other times it is subtle, shifting the
flow of events only slightly. But always, the lives of those
who wield them are forever changed.
Few scholars agree on the identity of all
twelve of the Swords of Fate, and the Chantric Oracle provided no
such list. Still, they are commonly thought to include the
- Calathar - The Crusader
- Demonbane - The Sword of
- Demonheart - The Sword
- Glorendal - The Sword of
- Nightwing - The Sword of
- Scatha - The Sword of
- Tynfangh - The Sword of
The Ice King
Far to the north of all civilized lands lies
an endless, trackless desert of ice, known as Akkia. This land is
sparsely populated by giants, trolls and other creatures of the
ice. Among the wise, it is whispered that all these beings pay
fealty to one great overlord, the Ice King, who sits in his
fortress atop the world and waits patiently for the proper
alignment of the stars. Then he will launch the great age of ice.
It has been noted by many that the winters
are worse than a century ago...
On the wild north shore of the Bay of Ben
Thael stands the ancient fortress of Black Haven. It is a great,
brooding place of mammoth stones and mighty iron gates. No man
dares approach its ramparts and sailors count it an ill omen to
see any lights coming from its portals.
This is the home of the EleanturŪ,
the Oathtakers. Ages ago, when the first men had just entered the
valleys of this land, the elves of the Misty Isles landed here to
drive away the Sea-Lords. No legend tells who or what the
Sea-Lords were, save that they dealt with the darkest forms of
wizardry. The elves do not speak of it. But when the Sea-Lords
were defeated, the kindred of the elves returned to their islands,
save for Prince Fešlros of the Maedhren, the Deep elves.
His son, Amargon, had been slain by the Sea-Lords, and he and his surviving sons swore an oath never to leave Vatheria until
Amargon was avenged. So the EleanturŪ built the great
fortress men call Black Haven, but the real name of which is Narthoriel,
and they wait still for some word or sign of the Sea-Lords.
No man has seen one of the EleanturŪ
in centuries, but watchfires are still lit on its ramparts, and a
few sailors have reported seeing sleek, black ships glide silently
past toward the huge seaward doors of the fortress. The last time
that the EleanturŪ took the field in force was more than
eight hundred years ago, when their arrival saved the Conorrian
legions from annhiliation at the hands of a Daeron army near
the Druid Isle
In the middle of the Bay of Ben Thael sits
the large island of Nereseš. It is surrounded by dangerous reefs
that make it all but unapproachable. Only the druids know the safe
route. Ships which desire to call at the port of Midhean must take
on a druid pilot. These can be found at AlqualondŽ, Duncrannoch
The island is the home of the druids, the
priests of the goddess Daria. No non-druid is ever allowed beyond
the walls of Midhean, but rumors abound of fantastic monsters,
ancient cities, and fabulous wealth. The most persistent legend
about Nereseš is that at its secret heart lies the lost city of
Valethon, greatest of the Mage-Cities of the ancient empire of
Centuries before the dissolution of the
Miletian Empire, the wilds of Estwilde and the Edgemoor mountains
were teeming with orcish cities. The orcs constantly raided the
Miletian farmers and merchants, as they had the Conorrians before
them. Soon, the citadel of Duncrannoch was built
and the Miletian XXIX legion was stationed there to protect the
road and fend off the orcs.
In the winter of 1971, a vast orcish army
caught and surprised the legion along the high bluffs above the
Dun Aerinn river, near what is now the Sothwood. The entire army
was slaughtered to a man and their bodies flung from the heights.
Legend says that in the morning, the bodies were gone.
From time to time over the centuries,
travelers have reported seeing a ghostly army in ancient gear
marching near the old road , or through the Sothwood. Bards say
that it is the spirits of the XXIX Legion, seeking to fulfill
their ancient oath to protect Estwilde.
Far to the west, it is said, lie the Misty
Isles, legendary home of the elven kingdoms. No human ship can
ever find them, for the queen of the elves surrounds them with a
mist that human eyes cannot penetrate, making sailing in those
waters deadly. But the Isles themselves are said to be beautiful,
with tall white towers and perfect, immortal inhabitants. It is
said that no man who once lays eyes on those islands may ever
leave, but that none would want to, either.
Lost City of Azan‚rgud
Somewhere in the cold northern mountains
lies the entrance to the ancient dwarven city of Azan‚rgud. In
ages past, Azan‚rgud was a great
center of industry and trade. There lived the greatest miners,
jewellers, armorers, architects and engineers of any nation. When
the last dwarves of Azan‚rgud died out, they sealed the city's doors and hid
them from the sight of men. Any who could find that city would be
as rich as the mightiest emperor.
The Sleeping Gods
The oldest legends, whispered in secret from
aeons before the coming of man, speak of a time before the gods,
when Theeurth was ruled by beings of unbelievable power and evil.
These were the Titans, first children of the chaos that existed at
the beginning of time. Such unbridled power and madness was the
lot of the Titans that no force could stand against them and all
creation was their plaything.
But they contained the seeds of their own
downfall. Greatest of the Titans was Ologothos, who forced the
Chaos to lay with him and give birth to children. But the Chaos
was wiser than the Titans, and more powerful still, and the
children she bore she hid away from their father until they were
strong and warlike. She called these children gods and gave them a
golden circlet made of her own hair, with which they could
restrain the Titans and bring order to the world.
So the gods rose up against their father and
against his kind, and warred upon them in a terrible war that
destroyed the old world and brought a new world to life. And the
Titans were imprisoned under Theeurth in a deathless sleep,
dreaming of a future where they once again rule. And many of the
servitors of the Titans fled into the dark places of Theeurth and
there still await their masters' call.
Cults of the Titans appear and reappear
throughout history. Always they are stamped out and always they
return in some new guise. Should they ever manage to waken their
masters, all the good of the world would be washed away in one