Second Age

The Second Age of the world saw the waning of the unfettered power of dragons. Though still unmatched in individual potency, the new mortal races quickly outnumbered them, and the powerful wyrms that survived after the revolt of the First Age withdrew to less 'infested' regions. In this time also began the strife between the elves and the dwarves, and the sundering of both kindreds into the many forms seen in modern Arol.

The Second Age came to a close in the great battles against the Primordial Wyrms, unleashed once more upon the world by rebellious and corrupted elves in the service of Varjo.

A New Age Dawns
It has been told that in the beginning of time, Evighet went forth into the Void, and brought forth the Essences of Arol, and through them, created the world. Eight they were in number, and paired in aspect, and the names given to each were Aurinko and Forstorelse, the Lights of Heaven, Kivi and Valtameri, the firmament, Frihet and Tuli, the impulses, governing caprice and passion, and Kukka and Elain, the Lifesprings. These were the Makers of Evighet’s design, and the implements His will, yet another there was, Varjo, the essence of the Void, and if she indeed came of Evighet’s intent, then it is hidden from the others, and told not to those that dwell within the bounds of Arol.

Thus did Arol become flawed, and stray from the balance the Essences had envisioned. And from that imbalance came the great tumults of the First Age, as dragon strove with dragon for power and dominion, even unto the deaths of many of the Children of the Lights. But greater strife was yet to be, as the mightiest of the dragons rose up against their sires, seeking to wrest divinity for themselves. Brief was the Rebellion of the Wyrms, and brutally was it put down by Forstorelse and the other Essences, and when all was done, those who survived were imprisoned forever, or so it was thought. And in the hour of the rebellion’s end, those wyrms who had not rebelled now perceived their mastery of Arol was at an end, for the gods surely would not countenance a second uprising, and so the wyrms withdrew, seeking solitude and isolation, and the greater part of Arol was left empty, save for the children of Kukka and Elain.

Children of The Other Gods
Into this emptiness, the gods brought forth new creations, perceiving that some check was needed on the ambitions of the great drakes. To the forests, Tuli brought the Istadar, who would come to be called the elves. To them, she gave the gift of passion and wonder in creation, and set them free to wander whither they would, and find their own way in the twilight under the leaves.

Kivi, the mountain lord, in the same time did create the race of dwarves, who are in the tongue of that people the Kathari, Those Who Are Of The Father, and place them within the very bones of the mountains, to teach them his Law, and shelter them from the predations of the wyrms, that they might nurture their strength.

Frihet the Windwalker in that time crafted the Puutasadi, the gnomes of meadow and field, where the Sly One’s winds swept down to brush against the world. Carefree wanderers and tinkers, the gnomes quickly spread across the open places, forming small villages near the kathar delves or istadar settlements, and in this way did they learn of both the dwarves and the elves, and profit greatly from their friendship.

Valtameri brought forth no children, unless it be some race within the deeps that is yet unknown, and instead, the goddess of the waters taught each race, through dreams and visions, happenstance and daydream, the rudiments of magic, to learn and develop each according to their nature.

Darkness Grows
But Varjo was aware of the designs of the gods, and conspired to bring forth her own creations to make war upon them. And so she sought to unleash hordes of mighty terrors upon Arol, but her knowledge of creation, of drawing forth the shape of her secret thought and clothing it within flesh, was crude, and her labors produced only a shrunken, sallow form of life, cruel and miserable, desiring only to inflict pain and misery upon all others. Thus did the ghul’bim, which in the Common Tongue of the Third age became Goblins, first darken the shadows of night. But Varjo was unsatisfied, and stretched forth her power again, investing her second attempt with more of her malice, her cruelty, and her hate, and in her darkling wrath we born the first of the races of the giants, the Oghru, that men call Ogres.

But Forstorelse was vigilant, and wary of Varjo’s treachery, and ere long the moon saw both ghul’bim and oghru as their malice spread through secret ways, thinking themselves hidden by the mantle of Night. Resolving to turn the malice of the Nightshade in upon itself, Forstorelse stole upon the ghul’bim and captured some, to learn more of them, ere the others fled. But the oghru were cannier, and less craven, and would fight to the death rather than let themselves be taken, and the goddess withdrew, lest the conflict warn Varjo that her minions had been discovered.

Racial Diversity
For long years did the infestation spread in secret, while the three races of the gods learned of the world, and forged their places within the spheres of Arol. For children of the Kathari forsook their sunless lives, and learned the ways of the seasons and weather, and became the Nithar, the Hill Dwarves, and though long did they keep unto themselves, still trade and the rumor of the Nithar came to the Puutasadi, and there was friendship between the two peoples. And in that time was first felt by the races of the Second Age the power of Kauppias, and in the trade and love of wealth that came with such interactions his power grew.

In like manner did the children of Tuli grow apart from one another, as many began to seek their own paths, and their own dominions in the world. Those there were who sought to bring forth wonders of their own, to create even as the gods had created, to explore the spark of magic and power gifted unto all by Valtameri. And deep and wise was their learning, and mighty their works, and they came to be called the Children of Creativity, the Lumidar. And some there were that sought to follow the ways of the world around them, to live within the natural pulse of the world, and be as one with all of Arol. Quick and fell of hand, they became; hunters without peer, tireless trackers, and fell-handed defenders of their people. These were the Elaidar, the Children of the Wilderness. But there remained those who walked the middle road, seeking neither the Power of Creation, nor the primal unity with the children of Elain, but rather holding to the vision of Tuli’s guidance, and choosing to live within her ways, and they called themselves the Sildar, the Children of Faithfulness. But the three kindreds of the elves were not estranged, and in that time the differences as yet were but ones of choice and habit, practice and livelihood. And slowly grew the communities of the Istadar, but long were their lives.

An Age of War
And in that time of the divergence of the children of the gods came the first sign of the ghul’bim, and their cruelty and spite were made all the more terrible by the bitterness they found at the beauty of the Istadar, and the cleverness and industry of the Puutasadi and Nithar, and there was ever war between the cities and the hordes of Varjo, though none but Forstorelse yet knew whence this evil came. Long and hard did the Istadar and Nithar war, but never as one, for the races were as yet estranged, and living in different climes had no word of one another, but the Puutasadi knew, and gave aid to both. But the Kathar remained untroubled, and secure in the fastness of their hidden might, the race of Dwarves long had peace, and thrived in the deep places of the world.

But above, the wars against the ghul’bim would have gone poorly for the Istadar, but in the hour of their need came from behind the horde a great force of arms. Clear and cold were the trumpets of the Host of Forstorelse in that hour, and long and bright were their spears. And the new-come host strove in against the rear of the creatures of Varjo, and came even nigh under the walls of the great city of the Istadar, Vansiriel the Beautiful, and none could withstand them, and the creatures of Varjo were thrown into confusion and chaos, for it seemed their foes were of their own kind, and yet greater and more grim.

For by her own Arts and malice did Forstorelse had reshaped the ghul’bin, twisting and mutilating the half-formed instruments of Varjo, until tall and straight they stood, strong of arm and merciless of mein, cruel, relentless, and disciplined. And they were christened by their mistress Hughbar-ghul’bim, which signifies ‘Strong Arms of the Ghul’bim’ in the dark tongue of the Bloodmoon’s servants, but which Men make Hobgoblin, and thus have they been known after the Breaking of the Mists.

But even in the hour of her defeat, Varjo laughed, for the elves as well bethought the new and well-ordered host to be fresh foes come up against them, for the oghru of times were known to carve swathes through the numbers of the ghul’bim ranks in their madness and bloodlust. And therefore, as the Host of Forstorelse strove against the hordes of Varjo, did the Istadar throw wide the mithril gates of Vansiriel, and issue forth in sudden strength, whelming heavy-handed against all upon the field, and seized the mastery of that day.

But Forstorelse did not forget that even as she delivered them, the children of Tuli attacked her own forces, and in so doing allowed the remnants of Varjo’s thralls to escape, to breed anew. But too few now were her warriors to pursue them, and so she devised subtler plans: Whenever they could, her hughbar-ghul’bim would seek dominion over their lesser brethren, and turn them in thralldom to her service and her ends. But the children of Tuli they will ever hate, remembering them as betrayers and cowards, and they and their mistress have sworn to see the elves enslaved, and bound at last to the will of the Bloodmoon, and the war between those peoples has never fully ceased.

But of all this, the elves remained as yet unaware, and thinking the field won by the valour of their arms against foes beyond count, the Istadar gave further thought to the arts of war and the means of their defense. Thus did they draw tighter the watch around Vansiriel and lesser cities, and for long centuries had peace in the greater part of their realm, though the vigilance of their borders was often tested by their foes.

Wars of Elves and Dwarves
However, such peace was not to last, for within the Istadar the seeds of corruption were planted, and the whispered words of Varjo’s lies spread from ear to ear in secret. And so it was that malcontents fomented war upon the Nithar, who made peace with their estranged cousins to fight for their survival. Thus before any were even aware of the conflict’s beginning, the Wars of Dwarves and Elves erupted in sudden bloodshed, and the elven people, thinking themselves wronged, meted out hurt for hurt, for nigh on half a thousand years, until both sides were wearied of battle.

Then did Varjo’s corrupted followers strike, and led the armies of the dwarves through hidden ways behind the walls of fair Vansiriel. And even as elf slew dwarf and dwarf slew elf did the tainted ones work their accursed rites, and drew upon the power of the slaughter itself, and called, they thought, upon their mistress in her secret names. But it was not so, and in their worship of names thought lost and cleansed from Arol did they channel Power, and the mystic might of the lives spent in hate and madness about them.

The Mistwar
And in that hour, the Wars of the Children of Tuli and Kivi ceased, and the children of Forstorelse set aside their grievances and hate, for a time. For those dark rites which Varjo taught and faithless elves enacted worked un-being upon the strength of Arol, and upon the heart of the world itself. And with such weakening came a fate more terrible than any could imagine, and the world itself did shake, and seem to crack, as were great quakes across all lands, as Korinthar the Red wrenched free, and in his train came those others who had led their kinds into rebellion: Jhoral. Talvi. Skogen. Sslira. And more terrible now, than even before, were the Primordials, for theirs had been the names that Varjo taught unto her misguided elven servants. Nigh as gods they had become, and worse. For in their long imprisonment, Korinthar grew mad, but hateful, ever dreaming of the hour of his vengeance. Jhoral, too, went mad, but his was an unreasoning madness, a rage of orgiastic devastation with neither thought nor care. But more terrible to behold was Sslira, for as ages passed in the ageless net, she learned darker magics than those she had yet known, and sacrificing herself was reborn, yet dead remained, a skeletal creature of magic and malice, implacable in her hunger to consume the lives of others. Dracolich she was named, and Shadowqueen.

But Skogen’s heart had turned to longing in the Mists, and breaking free he eschewed the war his brethren made, to return instead to that forest domain which he had loved in days long ago. Therein he found a multitude of creatures unfamiliar, ghul’bim and hughbar-ghul’bim, oghru and istadar, puutasadi and nithar. Curious, he watched unseen their panicked lives, for though he made no threat, they were yet aware of the release of Doom that was the coming of his brethren, and ere long their fears were made truth, as Sslira turned her sunken eyes toward Skogen’s realm. Great was the might of her arm in that attack, for fresh was she from the slaughter of the Great Delve of the Kathar, and to her power she added that of the lives she stole, and to her terror she added that of her creations: undead legions, the remains of those valiant nithar and kathar who opposed the Shadowqueen, now thirsting for blood and life even as did she.

But mightier still was Skogen’s wrath, for even in the beginning he had been the greater, and he had hoarded his strength since their release, and not squandered it in senseless slaughter. And as the army of the undead bore down upon the scattered peoples within his wood, they did band together, and yet still would have been swiftly destroyed, but for the Green. For Skogen descended in Power upon the deathless legions, and with tooth and claw, spell and righteous wrath he laid that army low, scattering many to dust with each blow. And those behind his bulwark, thinking him perhaps Elain himself come to deliver them, did fall and worship him, even as their god. But even as they did, the forest shook again, for now came Sslira herself, and the battle between the Wyrms of Wild and Death is remembered in legend and song among all those races that saw, and in the end Skogen had the mastery, and Sslira fled.

But elsewhere the escaped Primordials went, devastation followed. Korinthar and Talvi sparred amidst the ruins of elven Vansiriel, fairest of the realms of that people, and forever after lost to memory, and the dragons delighted in the destruction they wrought, and grew stronger even as they slew, for the followers of Varjo yet hid safe within the caverns deep below, and continued their dark rites. But the Puutasadi in that land cried out to their lord Frihet for succor, and he did lift them up, and set them to live atop the slopes of Kivi, nearer his own realm, and in his divine touch made them well-suited for such clime. And from those faithful arose the Pilvisadi, the Delivered Ones, that the tongue of men makes Cloud Gnomes.

But Tuli was aware of them, and cursed her wayward children, unleashing upon them her fire even as she once had upon Korinthar. And the tainted elves were burned, and darkened, and the darkness of their skins would forever reflect the darkness of their souls. No longer could they hide among the istadar, and so began that lineage the elves call the Children of Broken Faith, Sil-varidar in that tongue of old, but in later days made simply Varsidar.

Nor were the other gods long idle as the escaped wyrms’ rampages continued: Frihet, it is said, released Lognare back into the world, and with her came Kunnia, the daughter of Aurinko and a great silver wyrm, and Mod, the Lord of Battle, son of Kivi and Tuli, for eager was he to test his might against that of Korinthar. But the true Powers, the Essences of Arol, came not, hunting instead the one they perceived as the architect of the Escape: Varjo. But to Varjo’s aid rose Hemlig, the Master of Secrets, and whence he came none can say of certainty, for such is his greatest secret. And with Hemlig’s aid did Varjo elude the other gods, and laughed, for in hunting her the greatest of her foes lost time in which they might have quickly felled Korinthar and his allies.

Then Skadia, daughter of Jhoral, emerged at last from the Mists, a great draconic demoness of six arms and stormy mein. But Skadia had seen more deeply than the others, and new the true nature of their prison. Seeking out her sire, she sought to calm his madness and stay his wrath, but to no avail. And knowing thus what such ravages would work upon Arol, she hearkened to Kunnia and Lognare, and joined her cause to theirs, and fell upon her father even as he himself began his assault upon a colony of gnomes. Great was the upheaval of that contest, but in his madness and confusion, the ancient blue was no match for his daughter’s power, and he fell, alone among the great Primordial Wyrms to truly die in that war.

But Skadia absorbed his power, in part due to her demonic blood, and in that moment attained true divinity. But it is said that even as her power grew, the Mists themselves arose and engulfed her, and she vanished from the face of Arol again, and has never since come forth.

But despite the fall of Jhoral, and the conversions of Skogen and Skadia to the protection of Arol, still the tumult grew, and seeing the power of the Primordials, many folk of mortal race were cowed, and worshipped them, and their power grew, and all the world became their battlegrounds. Great swaths of terror and destruction Sslira wrought, and the undead rose up in her wake, while Talvi froze whole lands with the scourge of his breath, his spells, and his hate, and in his passage laid his taint upon a pocket of the Istadar, that would in later Age be after known as Morthidar, the Frost Elves. But Korinthar had long devised of other schemes, and let Mod hunt for him in vain.

Then Korinthar gathered his strength about him, and forsaking the surface of Arol did come instead to the Plane of Fire, and there put forth his malice and his might, and sought to bring all the creatures of that plane within his thrall. For Korinthar had not forgotten the fires of Tuli, and knew that in her very strength lay her weakness: for being of Fire and passion, she was destroyer as well as creator, and if Fire itself became his domain, then that aspect would dominate the goddess, and she too must then come into his service. But Tuli was aware the moment his power first spread across her realm, and came indeed, and great were the upheavals of that battle, and all who witnessed it were destroyed. But though Korinthar at length was cast back down unto Arol, the wise have said that Tuli’s victory was dearly-bought, and only in abandoning the darker aspects of flame to his dominion, and separating herself from them, was she able to prevail, and shut to him the Plane of Fire.

And while Tuli nursed her wounds, before Korinthar could master his new-won strength, the armies of Kunnia and Lognare attacked, with Mod and Skogen in the van. But the hosts of Sslira joined the thralls of Korinthar and Talvi, and battle was joined. For half a month did the armies vie, and in that battle fought on both sides members of all the races of Arol, and magics fell and terrible were unleashed. Some among the learned sages who have studied the lore of those days believe that in that conflict were birthed the bewildering variety of humanoid creatures, giants, and aberrations that have since come to be known upon Arol; gnolls, minotaurs, and other beastmen, trolls, ogre magi, and the races of Greater Giants, chimerae and gorgon.

But in the end, the gods prevailed, and though Kunnia was nearly destroyed herself in bearing the brunt of Korinthar’s fury, the great Red spent himself in the attack, and was laid low by her talons.

The Closing of the Age
But great were the throes of that war, and all the lands were broken, and many mountains laid low, and seabeds thrust up, and rivers changed their course. And in the end, even as the final battle raged, the Mists arose again, enshrouding all the world and separating land from land and kin from kin, and many feared that they would ensnare both sides, trapping them forever within, locked in eternal conflict. But the might of the Primordials was grown too great to be so contained a second time, and so they were exiled from the face of Arol, and dispersed among the planes.

Adrift they were set, but Talvi stretched forth his strength, and merged the fringes of the Planes of Air and Water, and in that realm of eternal cold now makes his lair, and plots for his return. Korinthar created not any lasting work of his own, who is destruction itself, but rather fled to the Abyss, and Sslira to the darkness of the Shadow, the domain of Hemlig.

For the gods now perceived that Varjo and Hemlig could not be assailed directly, being true divinities and not usurpers as were their draconic minions. And so the dark gods were not assailed in might, but still does Forstorelse wage her endless war of vigilance across the darkness of the lower planes.

And so ended the Second Age of the World, in battle even as it had begun, and all the world was changed, for the Mists abated not, and the lands were estranged from one another, for wherever the Mists crossed, there no safe passage was found, and those who entered within only rarely came forth again, bearing tales of fear and woe.