Chronicles Volume 1

Chronicles - Volume 1

From the history of the people of Itheria

Here is written the last and the first. Much of what was is lost to us, and so this is the last record of what has passed and the first of what is passing.

We were a proud people, forged of sword and sweat, of toil in the field, and valor in battle. It was we who drove the hordes of Beothell from the western spine. It was we who would hold it at bay for nearly 500 years. Ballads are still sung by those who are old enough to still remember the tales. Stories still whispered of the deeds of our king, Lord Dullin, and of battles won and lost. Myth still tells of weapons once wielded by our forefathers, endowed with power and buried away in long lost tombs.

When first we came to the west, 9 beacons were lit to hold back the darkness. 9 Cities were built under our king, the 9 realms of Oen. Once a nomadic people, we build sanctuaries of stone and oak. Of our 9 the most ancient was Thirian, who’s walls towered above spruce and birch alike. This was the seat of our power and the throne of our King. Built in the valley of a long-dead volcano, its walls crested its peak. In the dying fire of the day, poets would call it the city of fire, or Anduels flame who’s heights it had been built upon. Its bastions and battlements resembling the rivers of heat that had once run from it to cover the land below.

The second was Glarroz, built of stone and mortar, and carved into the roots of the world. Its forges bore our wealth into the world, and its hammers rang in the making of our arms. Here there were no grand battlements, but instead, 6 obsidian gates, each holding aloft great doors of rock and steal. Overlooking these were great crossbows, wielded by men who’s lineage had been dedicated to the task.

The Third was Telthos, who’s grand library would bring scholar and mage alike to discover and add to its walls. A place of learning and science, where many mysteries were unraveled and recorded.

These were the sovereign 3 of our nation and places of our greatest strength. Of those remaining, 3 were built upon the fertile plains beneath the spine, having been made rich in eons past by the volcano and the great river which had carved it. These were places of farm and vineyard, and of merriment. Places of great diversity and culture. It is said that no greater place exists for the sharing of heritage than over food and drink. Here our merchants would come to find travelers from afar and establish trade while under the enchantment of music and dance from many lands. These were Fena, Telfon, and Sedran.

The remaining three, Kelthos, Salfrost and Lirian, were great ports of trade along the great river, and places of commerce.

Running between each of the 9 were roads of cobble and great stones, connecting our people to one another. Along these at intervals were great towers and barracks, built to keep us safe from the forces that walked abroad in the darkest hours of the day. In time these would crumble and ruin as our enemy seemed to become less, and their forays against us fewer. For some, this was welcomed peace. For others, this brought only a sense of foreboding. These were quietly pushed away as simple misgivings. Our walls, built in times of war, were thought to be impregnable, as no enemy has ever bested them, and so no heed was paid to those who still watched. These were men of no home, being nearly outcast, they lived in the forests and fields, and along the borders of our nation. If not for these, there would be nothing more to record our history than the cry of the wind through abandoned stone.

It is only the fool who sleeps without a sword at his side. He who leaves his sword may still die by one. Only a fool who does not watch the skies for the storm before it assails him.

In our comfort, we neglected our watch, and our walls would not save us.

“Walls of stone have no eyes to see the shadow at the gate, its towers no voice with which to call the guard from their post, Woe to those who never heard the cry the stones could not voice, Their blood was shed, the veil spread, for spirits left to wonder”.