Shadow Elves are one of the rarest subspecies of elves. During the early days of the Elven Wars, the Mori clan broke into two. The Spider worshipping Dark Elves and the Star worshipping Star Elves (who would one day be called Shadow Elves). The cruel goddess Spider cursed the Star Elves with blindness, and her curse was so strong that their own god couldn't break it. But he blessed his children by giving them supernatural hearing and other senses, and so they could live perfectly without eyesight. But the cruelness of the curse was that they could no more see the stars they so loved.

It was the Star Elves who eventually created the curse that drove their Spider worshipping cousins underground. This was their revenge, and it was horrid, for the Dark Elves loved nothing more than the warmth of the sun on their skin.

Afterwards the Star clan secluded themselves and moved through yet another weil between the worlds to the world of Shadows. There in the great wasteland of dead woods, they built their homes and became known as Shadow Elves. Now they pass on to the world from time to time, in the outskirts of the Everwoods, and fight the Dark Elves whenever they find them.

It may be because of both the Curse and the Blessing, that the corrupting forces of the Shadow World has never taken ahold of the Shadow Clan. They are still physically the most imposing elves. Their skin is dark with a tint of blue to it, giving them a likeness to a gentle summer night. Their hair is silvery like the stars and their form is lithe yet strong. As a result of the ancient days they are still all blind, but their other senses are so astute that they can actually sense everything but colors by other supernatural ways.

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This is a map depicting the Alliance before it's fall. Most cities lie in ruins now and only the historians remember the names of the nations.

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Everwoods is an incredibly vast forest spanning north-south almost across the whole continent. The area is guarded by extremely powerfull spirits against everyone trying to ruin it's natural state. The forest is home to many mysterious creatures and plants. The deepest reaches of Everwoods have never been tainted by the "civilized" races and even on the outer areas only elves and other nature-revering individuals are tolerated. There are couple of exceptions. Thousands of years ago the Guardians allowed for a single narrow road to be opened through the forest (The prize of this deal has long been forgotten but it was certainly steep), and couple of hundred years ago they agreed for a small settlement to be formed along that road.

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Halfway Port is a small hamlet located in Everwoods and the only patch of civilization the Guardians of the forest have allowed in there. It was originally founded by Ripp the Elder, a retired Hobgoblin mercenary, nearly two hundred years ago. By befriending an influential spirit of the woods he was given approval to build an inn along the only road through the Everwoods. He chose a place where both the travellers by land and sea could stop for a rest.

The community has not really grown from those days as the residents of Everwoods will not allow for expansion to take place. It is rather only an inn and a small harbor as well as few cottages for those brave enough to live in the middle of one of most inhospitable areas of the world.

After the war Halfway Port has been struggling, as there are rarely any travellers going through anymore. It is still owned by the descendants of Ripp. The spirit friend of Ripp keeps them fed by bringing meat and fruit from the woods and so, though struggling, the village lives on.

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Dwarves have always been a race of mystery to the other races. Never interested in the affairs of aboveground people they have kept to themselves in their underground cities. The dwarven history exists almost completely separately from the history of the aboveground.

The first dwarves in this world were exiles from other-place, runaway slaves of the giantkin who had used them as miners and crafters. Having never seen the sun, nor the stars, they panicked, and hid themselves under the mountains. And there they stayed to this day. Their first city laid somewhere in the north, and from that city they began claiming the underworld as their own.

Thousands of years ago, around the time when Elflings ruled above, the dwarves expanded their own empire rapidly. The greed for all things that shine and glitter drowe them onwards to claim new mining areas across the continent. But under the rock has always lived other creatures too. Creatures of horror that has kept other races from venturing too deep into the caves. In their greed the dwarves ignored them, and eventually this cost them dearly. They claimed new areas, and after a while they dug too deep. The creatures of lightless deeps drove them away. But the dwarves never gave up, instead finding new veins of precious metals or jewels, and starting the cycle again.

But even if they were driven back, the dwarven empire kept expanding. Untill they met the hated elves. These creatures were exiled underground by their cousins and they were treacherous. At first they came as friends, pleading for sanctuary, but soon they started conguering the dwarven holds.

Then the orcs of the north found their way underground, led by their demon-god. A war was inevitable. The dwarven emprire dwindled, and fell. This forced the dwarves to open up nominal relations with the only above-race that didn't want to exterminate them, the humans. When their own tunnel-roads were no longer safe, they made trade-agreements to get much needed resourses from humans.

Now the dwarves are isolated to individual cities under the greatest mountains.

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Known also as Dragonborn, these formidable warriors are what remains of the ancient protectors of Drania. The first of dragonborn were humans who were transformed by the dragonic deities, but now they are a truebreeding race of their own. Almost two millenia ago the Drajaar race came to the brink of extinction. To be exact only one Drajaar, a female called Sheraas survived the destruction of Drania. She was among the hundred Dragonriders exiled to the great desert and she was pregnant at the time. The luck was with them as they found ancient ruins of an elfling city in the heart of the desert. There she laid her eggs. She had hoped for two as was usual of her kind, but miraculously she had almost two dozen. The Progenitor Dragons were smiling. Of these eggs hatched the new generation of Drajaari, and with the help of her human and half-elven friends she raised them and passed on to them their heritage. The life in the desert was hard but they managed and when 50 years later two dragons found them the Drajaari population was already on the 4th generation. With the help of the dragons, the humans and half-elves left the desert, but the Drajaari stayed behind. And in the following two millenia their population grew thousandfold. The ruined city was rebuilt and it became central place of worship for the Drajaari Clans that scattered to conquer the desert. And the tomb of Great Mother Sheraas is still to this day a place of pilgrimage and reverance in the great city of Sherastion.

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In ages past there was an empire that spanned the whole continent. There are no written records of those ancient days and only some of the eldest dragons can remember them anymore. The empire was ruled by a race of innately magical creaures who are now known by the name elflings. They were short, slender and resembled somewhat modern day elves. The historians have speculated that both halflings and gnomes descent from these ancient masters of arcane. What little is known is that their empire fell to a civil war and never recovered.

This gave rise to the former slaves of these elflings. Humans and goblinkin. Also at these times the elves came from their distant lands and settled areas along the coast. As the human civilization rised the elves met them and taught them to write and to work iron.

During the next millenia the elven houses began anew the war that had caused them to leave their homelands. It finally ceased when, with the help from humans, the dark-elves were banished underground and sealed there with high-magic. This age also saw the birth of the first half-elves.

Humans spread across the continent and small kingdoms rose and fell. It was finally the Dranians, with their pact with dragons that sparked the formation of the first human empire. The Order of the Dragon, a religious knightly order who rode their dragonic allies to battle ensured that peace was kept across the empire.

But as always, it could not last, and finally for jealousy over love, a war broke out once again. The empire fractured and Drania was once again just one kingdom amidst many. Shee, the westernmost nation of the continent looked upon Drania and hoped to conguer the rich land. But they had no hope against the might of the Dragonriders and so they made a pact with higher powers. They became Fae, humans instilled with powers beyond mortal dream. And this new elite caste of Shee warriors finally had chance to subjugate the Dragonriders. In desperation the Dranians prayed day and night to the Progenitor Dragons for salvation, and as some of them exhausted themselves in prayer, they suddenly burst in flames and in the piles of ashes lay large eggs. From these eggs hatched the first of Drajaari, also called Dragonborn, and so the powers of Fae-Shee and Drania were again in stalemate.

After another century of warfare it was the Fae-Shee that had the upper hand. Once the might of whole continent, Drania was reduced to just the capital city high up on the Spine Mountains with enemy closing in on all directions. They held the city by sheer spite for another decade when they finally ran out of time. The mightiest human empire of all times was no more. The few living knights of the Order of the Dragon were banished to the Desert of Eternal Scorch. It was as good as torturous death-sentence, for no-one had ever returned from the desert. The dragons that remained left the known world, they were seen flying off, down to south and for over a millenia no-one saw a true dragon again.

The peace ensued across the Fae-Shee empire, though it was a peace of terror. The Fae became a ruling caste and their bargain with powers they did not understand proved fatefull. They instigated a new religion that worshipped these mysterious powers. Over time the empire had become a theocrasy where even minor crimes were punishable by death and humans worked in submission for their Fae lords. Centuries went by but eventually the eastern provinces, where Fae influence was minimal, ceceded from the empire and formed an alliance to keep their new independence. The alliance was named after the former governor of Thae Province, Aran the Deathless. The leaders took grandeus titles and renamed their provinces as they saw fit. Arandon Alliance was born.

It wasn't easy keeping the empire from overrunning them, but the Alliance kept their ground. Over time the battles became more and more infrequent when finally it seemed that Fae-Shee just let them go. The empire cut off all connections to the east and there was peace again.

Time went by, and at some point the Order of the Dragon emerged again. It wasn't until Drajaari started emerging from the desert that it was confirmed to be the same Order which was believed to be lost and forgotten. Apparantly few of the banished had found a mythical city in the heart of the desert and kept their religion alive. Later some dragons had found them and aided the humans of the order to leave the desert. They came to an island in the Celmanthor Ocean where they founded New Drania. The Drajaari however were content on living in the desert.

A thousand years passed. There were small skirmishes from time to time between the nations of the alliance but the memory of Fae-Shee kept all out war from breaking out. But as time went by, the memory faded, untill the threat of Fae was just a children's story. For the last generation it was only the personal charisma of the last Great King of Taran that kept the alliance together.

It was a cold winter night when King Taranis 14th died. It was rumoured that someone had actually sneaked to the palace and murdered him in sleep but officially he had died of natural causes. And only two months later his great diplomatic skills would have been needed. But because he wasn't there to help, a minor disagreement between Laradin and Crondah escalated into a war. Soon the other nations joined in to help their closer neighbour and the whole Alliance was in war. After a year the loyalties had changed over a dozen times and by then all the nations were fighting against everyone else. Then came the Red Plague. It killed off even more people than the fighting did as the healers were unable to find a cure. The former Alliance was soon decimated. Time passed, the plague wore itself out and those that remained were no longer interested in the wars, but instead tried just live in a world where kings and armies were no more.

The roads fell into disrepair. Wilderness enroached the abandoned villages, cities and fortresses and monsters infested the lands that used to be patrolled by alliance soldiers. And finally preachers have come from west, telling of salvation by the Truth. The broken down people are desperate for hope, and so these priests are gaining a foothold. It is almost as if the whole war was secretly instigated by Fae-Shee, to once again subjugate the whole world.

Blackrat

A hundred years. A hundred years since the fall of Arandon. It could have been called an empire, but it was always rather an alliance of infighting, bickering small kingdoms. Oh they had a common reason for alliance once, long time ago, when Fae-Shee, the empire to the west posed a threat. But the threat vaned, and after centuries it was forgotten. For the last fifty years, it was only the personal charisma and skills at diplomacy of King Taranis XIV of Taran that held the alliance together. His death was the downfall of Arandon.

A war swept through the land. Starting from a disagreement on trade-taxation between Laradin and Crondah and escalating in all out war between all the kingdoms. Now, a hundred years after everyone ran out of warriors and cities were laid in ruin, the simple folk try to rebuild. There are no more kingdoms, only city-states governing the outlying farms. The roads are in disrepair, there are no-one to patrol them and keep them safe. Goblinkin, former slaves of Arandon prey on those who don't take care. And if the monsters were not enough, it seems that the Western Empire has stirred again, intent on finally reconquering the defenceless lands. It is almost as if this was all a longterm plot by Fae-Shee.

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So um, yeah. I was thinking I'd convert my homebrew thread into a blog. Let's see how this works out .

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