A War of All Ages by Lady Heathyr Hazelwood

Preface

Barely a breathing soul walks Elanthia who hasn't heard of the Vvrael. Few, however, fully realize the immense peril facing our lands. The story of the Vvrael, and those Chosen by Lorminstra to challenge them, is long. It begins ages before our time, with an arrogant Faendryl elf named Daephron Illian.

I. Daephron Illian

Daephron Illian played a major part in concocting the sorcerous spells which ultimately defeated Despana over 20,000 years ago. He researched a sinister new brand of spells-a dark craft combining both spiritual and elemental magic. Though among the brightest and most powerful of his kind, his ambition and arrogance often led him to take precarious risks in his experiments. Regardless, his achievements remain unrivaled to this day, and he is rightfully credited as the inventor of what we now know as sorcery. If not for Illian's incredible work, Despana might have won the Undead Wars.

Though Despana's origins remain a mystery, she created the first of the Undead using ancient and twisted magic left behind by the Ur-Daemons. Seeking ultimate conquest, she unleashed her Undead minions upon the elven nations. The resulting war dragged on for generations and inflicted terrible casualties upon all the races of the lands. The lines of battle swept back and forth daily. With every victory came an equal and costly defeat. Finally, after the historic battle of ShadowGuard, the war fell into a deathly stalemate which lasted for years.

Meanwhile, Daephron continued his grueling research. He had discovered a way to pierce the veil, the mystical and elusive barrier between our world and the next. Illian, and others of his kind, struggled to master this strange new power, until at last he announced they'd discovered a means to win the war. Eager to end years of bloodshed, the six other elven houses agreed to stage an assault, trusting the House of Faendryl to live up to their promise. They did this...and more.

The resulting carnage struck fear into the hearts of all who beheld it. The Faendryls unleashed their incredible spells, summoning hordes of vile demons to wreak havoc upon the enemy. The hideous creatures from beyond the veil nearly decimated Despana's troops. The elves then sealed their victory by releasing yet another spell of awesome destructive power. They imploded Maelshyve, utterly obliterating the mighty fortress and all that dwelled within. Despana is said to have perished within the keep, but her illegitimate son, fathered by a Faendryl prisoner during the long war, somehow survived in a suspended state far beneath the surface of Rhoska-Tor. That, however, is another story.

The elven races, and all their allies, won the war. The cost was great, however, and marked the beginning of the end to an elven empire that had flourished for thousands of years. Even in light of their victory, the Faendryl elves were severely scorned for the terrible magic they had brought upon the lands. The other elven houses banished them to live beneath the wasteland of Rhoska-Tor, where Despana's keep once stood. It was there that the Faendryls began to transform, affected by the harsh underground conditions and bizarre flows of mana, into what we now recognize as dark elves.

Daephron, undaunted by his harsh exile, focused upon the unearthly magic which had indirectly caused the banishment of his people. The immense power summoned forth upon Despana's armies intrigued and inspired him. He devoted his life to researching and perfecting the manipulation of the veil, continually searching for greater and deadlier power. Illian became obsessed, and in his arrogance blundered upon an amazing, and terrifying, new force. Daephron had mistakenly unleashed the Vvrael.

From the start, it was obvious these "things" were like nothing encountered before. The Vvrael were a collective of sentient anti-mana, defying all known magic and physical laws. They seemed to thrive upon the very mana Daephron used to control them, feeding like leeches and rapidly growing in power. At first he tried to master the strange beings, recklessly weilding his spells as if to command them as he had commanded his demons. This quickly proved futile, however, and Daephron began to panic as control slipped through his fingers.

The foolhardy elf had nearly run out of time, when at last he realized he must contain the Vvrael with whatever means he could. Summoning enormous amounts of mana, Daephron cast his most powerful spell ever. In a blinding explosion of light and smoke, he trapped the Vvrael in a small modwir box, using his very life-force to seal the makeshift prison. The spell permanently bound Daephron to the box, but his sacrifice wasn't enough. The Vvrael reached out from beyond the veil with ghostly, black tendrils of pure anti-mana, closing around Illian menacingly. Knowing no other recourse, Daephron strained to summon his last ounce of mana. Raising his arms and uttering a long-forgotten chant, he ripped a hole in the fabric of space and time and flung himself through it. The hole sealed behind him, leaving Daephron trapped in time and beyond the reach of the Vvrael.

Although securely imprisoned, the Vvrael were aware of what had happened. They knew one day Daephron would reemerge from his self-inflicted exhile. For thousands upon thousands of years, the Vvrael patiently awaited his return.

II. Malaphor and the Sea-Elves

The remaining Faendryl elves continued to survive below the wastes of Rhoska-Tor for generations. The unusual mana flows found extensively within the caverns slowly transformed the elves, sharpening their features and darkening their skin. The mana foci also enabled the elves to refine their impressive talent for magic, which allowed them to survive the harsh conditions. Time had made them bitter, however, and many Faendryl turned their eyes longingly to their homelands. Whispers of war began to drift among their people. Others sought a more peaceful solution.

With hopes of reconciliation, Rythwier Faendryl XXXVII, Patriarch of House Faendryl, arranged a marriage between his eldest daughter, Chesylcha, and a crowned prince of House Ashrim. The initiative sparked a brief period of amiability between the Faendryl and the sea-elves. Wedding gifts began to pour into Ta'Ashrim, the sea-elf capitol, in preparation for the arrival of Chesylcha. Among those gifts was a small, enruned modwir box...the very box which contained the Vvrael.

The box was of remarkable beauty and craftsmanship, so it was easily mistaken for a Faendryl "puzzle-box", a popular gift of the era. The Ashrim prince entrusted the magnificent box to one of his advisors, a wizard named Malephor, who kept it safe. Malephor immediately realized there was something extraordinary about the strange box, but would have little opportunity to investigate it until much later.

The ship carrying Chesylcha to Ta'Ashrim had mysteriously disappeared at sea, enraging the Faendryl nation. Rumors of foul-play hastened the dark elves to launch a devastating but costly attack, utterly destroying the sea-elves but for one ship. Malephor and his apprentice, along with a small band of noble sea-elves, escaped on that ship. After a long and perilous voyage, they found themselves at the southern tip of a small continent, somewhere north of Teras Isle.

Though the House of Ashrim was never again heard from, the small band of survivors found a new home where they landed. They discovered an outpost town called Ruin Creek which was inhabited primarily by humans. In time, the humans accepted the elves into their society, benefiting from the magical nature and noble heritage of the Ashrim. Even so, life in Ruin Creek proved harrowing, at best. Several imposing threats bordered the small town, such as the Krolvin empire to the north, the Talkyn empire to the northwest, the trolls of Grr'Tok to the west, and even farther, the flaming spire of Cinghin'fer. Together, however, the humans and elves managed to survive and prosper, blending their races in the years that followed. Malaphor used the intervening time to toil over the mysterious box in his possession.

Using magic and means known only to Malaphor, he slowly unraveled the mystery of Daephron's box. He learned of the Vvrael, and of Daephron's existence beyond time and space. Finally, he found the means to pluck Illian from time. Combining magic of the elements and the knowledge he'd gleaned from the box, he again opened the fabric of space and pulled Daephron back into the mortal world. Amazingly, he found Illian had changed drastically. The once-mighty Faendryl was now but a small child, helpless and wholly dependent upon Malaphor for survival. Worse, the Vvrael sensed Daephron's presence at once.

Throughout the ages, the Vvrael have aspired to corrupt and twist the souls of mortals and immortals, alike. These hapless beings became pawns, controlled from beyond the veil to do the bidding of the Vvrael. The Black Knight was such a pawn, and a fearsome one at that. It didn't take long for the knight to find Malaphor and the babe Daephron.

Malaphor had taken a loyal apprentice named Tindal. When the Black Knight arrived at his workshop in Ruin Creek, Malaphor placed Illian in Tindal's arms and gated them far from immediate danger, to the small coastal town of Wehnimer's Landing. The knight attacked at once, and though the battle was long and harrowing, Malaphor eventually fell. Having slain the old wizard, the Black Knight retrieved the modwir box and set out in search of Daephron.

There is a time discrepancy which is difficult to account for in these events, since Tindal arrived in the Landing in our generation. It may be that Malaphor used some ancient, lost magic of the sea-elves to prolong his life, or perhaps when he gated Tindal and Illian through space he also thrust them through time, as well. Whatever the case, Daephron and the Box were thus brought into our own era, and our modern saga with the Vvrael began.

III. The Babe, the Box, and the Key

It is unclear what became of Tindal. Malaphor later suggested that his old apprentice had returned to Ruin Creek after delivering the babe discreetly to our people of Wehnimer's Landing. Others believe Tindal was murdered by the Black Knight as Malaphor had been, and only his ghost now remains. Regardless, when the child Illian arrived in our lands, a healer became aware of his presence through alarming visions of the babe's grave danger. The child was promptly found, alone. Daephron's rescuers cared for him well, but none of the kind people involved could have foreseen the incredible legacy about to unfold. It was then that the ghost of Malaphor appeared.

Malaphor revealed three words of utmost importance, urging all to remember them well: The babe, the box, and the key. Naturally, nobody then understood the full meaning of Malaphor's words, but there was scant little time for contemplation. The Black Knight arrived, guided by the Vvrael, to claim Daephron and reopen the box which had contained them for thousands of years.

The knight battled fiercely, taking many lives, but was eventually defeated. The box, found on the knight's body, was given to its only rightful owner...the babe of Daephron Illian. As Daephron lightly traced the runes and wardings with his fingertips, the mighty spell that bonded the elf to the box slowly unraveled, and to everyone's astonishment the child rapidly began to age. He told much of his fantastic story to those gathered before him, until, so old had he become, he collapsed to the ground and died.

Though nobody then realized the elven body lying before them had been Daephron Illian, nor understood the significance of all that had transpired, one thing was certain. The strange box, Illian's only remaining legacy, must be protected. Our people hid the box carefully, and to this day only a handful of souls knows its whereabouts. Unfortunately, the box would prove to be of dubious consequence, since nobody yet knew of the insidious rift in the veil which the Vvrael struggled to wedge ever wider.

IV. The Keeper of the Key

I knew nothing of Daephron Illian, nor the Vvrael, the day I tried to end my life. All I knew was heartache and pain. I had been away from Wehnimer's Landing for a time, visiting my dying uncle, Dreyvarr.

My past had been very troubled. There was a power in me I never understood, yet one conspicuously absent from my sister, Julietra, and all of my other known family members. It took years to harness the mana in my veins, even aided by my uncle, and tutor, Dreyvarr. My childhood was shrouded by secrets, yet my uncle refused to tell me my true history. Finally, with his dying words, he revealed the last, terrible secret of my ancestry. Though I will not share this family secret, I will tell you it greatly disturbed me. Upon returning to the Landing, the news that confronted me there was simply more than I could take.

My beloved fiance, I was told, had died. I was led to believe he killed himself in a passionate fit of guilt, for while I'd been away he had taken another lover. My heart shattered. The loss of my uncle, the dark secret of my past, and the death and betrayal of my one true love, pushed me over the edge.

Long ago, when I was young and eager for power, I made a terrible promise: I relinquished the ownership of my soul to a dark and seductive force. Now, so great was my sorrow, I sought to settle that old debt and surrender myself to the darkness forever. Casting a deadly spell, I turned my magic upon myself to take my own life. To my astonishment, death would not find me that day.

A whispered voice, of such gentleness and compassion I'd never before heard, fell upon my very soul. It said simply, "Your time has not yet come, my child." Shocked, I remained still for a long moment. Eventually my surprise turned to indignation, and I pleaded the mysterious voice to allow my fate to pass. Some uncanny force, however, held my spirit firmly within the confines of the living. It soon dawned on me that my unwelcome savior was Lorminstra, herself...the Keeper of the Key to the Gate of Death.

Utterly thwarted from my efforts to take my life, I remained despondent; I truly had sought an end to my existence. Something the Goddess told me sparked a light of hope, however. She said my soul was not lost. Though still heavy with despair, my mind raced upon hearing this. Perhaps there may yet be reason to carry on, I thought. I acquired a sense of mission which drove me, guided by Lorminstra's infinite wisdom. She watched, almost curiously it seemed, as I began a battle like none I'd ever fought. This battle raged inside of me, fueled by her words, "Search deep within yourself, only there may you find the answer."

I travelled long that day, visiting many places and people. I even sought counsel from a dear old friend who lived beneath the Black Sands. Blind, and often crotchety, the lone hermit was also kind and wise. He told me, as Lorminstra had, to seek the answers within.

My soul-searching eventually led me deep beneath the surface of the earth, into the Valley of Shadows. I sat long upon a narrow, darkened ledge, comtemplating my plight. My inner-turmoil sparked an ember which began to glow in my heart, and my spirit gradually drifted back to within my grasp. I had nearly reached a monumental decision; to renounce my old, darkened ways, and embrace a more noble purpose. I couldn't have known Lorminstra's hopes and plans for me...but another, far more sinister power, did.

Unbeknownst to me in my moment of weakness, the battle which waged within me had become the focal point for a struggle between good and evil. Lorminstra once told me, "Sometimes the soul of one may become the battlefield for many." I could not have known, nor understood, the truth to her words. The Vvrael, hungrily drawn to my turbulent soul, summoned a wight-witch to devour it. They actually seemed to sense my destiny, and hoped to destroy me before I could fulfill it.

The wight-witch proved to be a powerful foe. I struggled to defend myself, but the witch bested me with sorcerous magic similar to my own. Many died trying to rescue me from her clutches as she dragged me about. Though my rescuers didn't understand the battle, they fought valiantly. Finally, two sorcerers managed to defeat the witch, and my lifeless corpse was taken before the gates of Voln to be raised by the priests and priestesses there.

By Lorminstra's grace I lived again, raised from the dead. It was then that a young lass of incredible beauty appeared before all assembled there. It took mere moments for me to determine the lass was Lorminstra, in physical form. Smiling gently, she asked if I had completed my search. I replied that I had. The events that transpired then both frightened and amazed me. I renounced my old ways and pledged my fealty to the goddess Lorminstra, finding a renewed sense of purpose while upholding her work through the ways of Voln.

With that, the goddess raised her arms to the heavens, an intense, warm aura flaring between her grasp. When she again turned to me, she held a magnificent shield, offering it to my trembling hands. She explained the shield bore her symbol, a shimmering gold skeleton key upon a field of black. I was to carry the shield in her name, to help protect me from forces that would undoubtedly seek my destruction. I didn't understand what she meant...until the vision came.

Suddenly, as if transported through time and space, I found myself standing at the brink of a great abyss, twelve others by my side, facing the most unspeakable terror I had ever beheld...the Vvrael. I cannot explain what it, or they...looked like...for I'm not certain if I saw them with my eyes, or my very soul. Whatever the case, the image frightened me as nothing before, and I seriously began to doubt the wisdom of my choice. Still...the burning in my heart, and the freedom I felt so deep within...made the fear seem petty by comparison. When my vision cleared, I turned again to face my goddess. Seeing the questions within me, she began to explain more.

Lorminstra told us of the Vvrael, and their imminent threat. She spoke of the veil, telling how she, along with many of the other Arkati, currently held a tear in the veil closed against the Vvrael. It became clear this battle involved more than just the Lords of Liabo, also encompassing the Lords of Lornan and their followers. The Vvrael are friends to no one, mortal or otherwise. They seek only to consume, to devour all life as we know it so they may grow and thrive. Even Luukos cannot abide such wanton gluttony upon souls he would lay claim to.

In order to eventually defeat the Vvrael, banishing them forever from our world, Lorminstra formulated a plan. She would select thirteen worthy people to face the Vvrael and force them from our lands. Nobody knew how this could be accomplished, nor what the Chosen must do to prepare. We only knew the grim consequences for failure...eternal death for all.

Lorminstra then granted her vision to two others who stood among the masses: Lord Krackenstar, a legendary bard, and Lord Writher, a sorcerer. She urged us to band together and seek the other Chosen as they were selected. The coming battle would know no boundaries; In this fight, all truly would be united, regardless of race, profession, or allegiance.

V. The Chosen Ones

A matter of days passed before the three Chosen received another vision. A fourth had been selected. We didn't know how to locate the new Chosen One, except that he was of the purest elven blood. Lorminstra beckoned us to find him quickly and keep him safe. Even as we searched, the Vvrael also scoured the lands for the Chosen Ones, often wreaking chaos and death with terrible undead forces they managed to control from beyond. Our progress was hampered considerably in the face of these brutal attacks. This continued for several days, until at last we learned the tragic news.

The Fourth Chosen had fallen to the Vvrael. We had never even identified him. News of his loss first reached us through Lorminstra, and later by the tauntings of the cursed Vvrael. This was more than just a setback. The loss of our unknown comrade would haunt our mission for months to come. I still feel responsible for the failure, and for the horrible fate of the Fourth Chosen.

The constant attacks by the Vvrael compounded our frustration, and many times it seemed one of us would break. Their torturous assaults worsened with every strike. The battles always took heavy casualties, often claiming the lives of even the most legendary of our heroes. If any good came from this time period, it was in what little we managed to learn of our opponent.

We had never seen the Vvrael, only their minions. Daephron Illian may well be the only mortal to have ever laid eyes upon the true face of the Vvrael, and he paid the ultimate price for that folly. The Vvrael, as Illian learned, are comprised of some form of sentient anti-mana. They number in the thousands, but act as one. They feed upon the mana of our world, not to mention our very souls; They thrive on our life-energy. It is unclear whether their power has actually increased over time, or simply found greater impetus with the widening of the rift in the veil. Either way, the resulting danger has grown proportionately since they first appeared in our time period. The Vvrael are said to "ride on the wind", and live in the shadows. Though somewhat inaccurate, these phrases do apply as we perceive the Vvrael in our world. Their reach seems limitless, and no place is safe from their grasp.

Since the time Lorminstra first spoke of the Vvrael and selected her first three Chosen, the lands have fallen under a great shadow. Countless lives have been lost to the Vvrael's attacks. Throughout these dark times, a brief shimmer of hope has occasionally risen as new Chosen Ones have been revealed. Unfortunately, every beacon of light on the horizon has been accompanied by a raging storm of darkness.