GreyOne
Explorer
In the Serewail section of the website, some of this never got put in (notably the info on the state of the mountains today).
The Mountains in the Mist
Hear me O Lords of the Last Haven, that in the Annals of the Uracarl is written the lore of the great dispersal, when the fate of our peoples lay like driftwood upon the sea waves. The tribes of the old kings; the flotsam of the war of the blessed and the cursed, departed the verdant West, the grim North and the sun-cloaked South and fled across the wilderlands to the mighty walls of granite that lay crowned in clouds. Thus did the Free Peoples find the Kessel. Thus did they cross to the Last Haven.
Lore:
Long ago, the remnants and refugees of the western kingdoms fled before the terrible might of the fiends. From the corners of the lands they fled and were assailed. Ever eastwards they were pushed with warriors falling in countless battles and refugees being cut off from retreat and succumbing to tooth and claw.
Finally their lines of retreat ended in the rugged foothills of a series of vast, monolithic mountains. Now the peoples were between the hammer and the anvil, for these mountains seemed impassable for their great numbers, and the endless hordes of the fiend lords moved inexorably eastwards. Many found escape over the hidden passes of the mountains, where ancient tribes already dwelt. They trickled across the mountains in a score of places but still their main and greater part came up against the mountains and could not pass.
The Lords of the Free Peoples called their banners and prepared for the final battle. Yet here in this greatest hour of need, the dwarves of the granite deeps came to the generals, princes, priests and wizards of the peoples and offered them a Pact. The dwarves, the "Progeny of Stone and Flame" offered the Free Peoples safe passage through the Taram Erach, the "Ways Beneath the Stone". The price of this Pact was the bent knee of each great lord, and the handing of their crown to the Lords of Stone and Flame. In appearance this was a symbolic gesture but in truth the crowns of the Old Kingdoms held power and tradition which would now be surrendered to the dwarves. The Dwarves, honourable and proud, would not let the peoples of the Diaspora fall to the tooth and claw and sword. Yet ever hard as the stone, and ever jealous as the flame, they would take their price.
With little choice, the Lords surrendered their crowns of gold and ivory, and the Free Peoples filed into the great tunnels and ways the Dwarves had carved in ages past and so escaped for a time the advancing wave of evil. The dwarves guided them beyondd the stone above to the vast and fertile plains beyond. Yet one Lord, called the Lord of Chance in story and song was too proud to bend his knee and so chose to lead the last sortie against the fiend lords. And with him rode the last and greatest of mages and sorcerors of the Free Peoples.
Far behind, in the valleys and entrances of the Ways, the fiends sought to enter as well. They were met with the greatest of sorcery. It is said that hundreds of powerful sorcerors and wizards (those that remained of the free peoples) fell in mighty and terrible conflagrations that burned away all life along the western face of the mountains. Indeed, the output of magic was so mighty and terrible that the prime material plane's very fabric was ripped apart in places. And thus did the mist come to the world. Flowing like mercury fingers along the mountains' reaches, it moved north and south in a great arc until it touched the sea far to the northeast, and far to the southeast. It flowed up the mountain passes, and along the valleys and dales. It overcame refugees by the hundreds and they disappeared into its merciless grasp. It climbed the peaks and plateaus, and then it stopped. For some reason, it just stopped.
Now, the vast chains of mountains that surrounded the fertile plains to the east lay blanketed in thick, yellow-grey fog. And the mist was called the Serewail in the old tongue, a name to inspire fear and dread in the hearts of children. The "Fingers of Darkness" now blanketed the mountains like an impassable wall. Of course, the majority of peaks and highest plateaus pierced the mist. Today they lie above the seething and flowing strands of the Serewail like disembodied heads.
(MUCH OF THE FOLLOWING WAS KEPT OUT):
On the state of the mountains today:
The mountains that surround the Kessel in a great crescent, have been divided by mapmakers into three great ranges and several smaller sub-ranges. The mountains are perpetually blanketed by a vast sea of flowing mist, which completely engulfs their lower midsts. There are three major Strongholds of the free peoples in the mountains and a great number of smaller towns and villages on the higher reaches. These Strongholds were built by man and orc and dwarf to safeguard the remnants of the free peoples. Their foundings and their histories are as diverse as the free peoples.
Movement between the various holdings and the safe lands of the Kessel is limited to two methods. The first is through the use of skyships (to which the Gnomish Brotherhood have a near monopoly except for sky reavers and the odd independent skyship). The second and more dangerous method in modern times is through the Ways Beneath the Stone (which the Dwarves mostly control except around the Strongholds). There are a number of pure, barbaric groups who reside in isolated areas of the mountains, obviously descended from either fleeing refugees who found themselves stranded, or perhaps descendents of much older peoples that lived in the mountains before the great wars.
To the north lies the Mur Bruach, the "Silent March". Here, deep in the northern edge of the mountains lies the vast and grim Stonghold of the Lord of Blades. Smaller towns and high villages where sheep and mountain goats are raised dot the odd escarpment and plateau as well. Yet the northern mountains become deadly and treacherous to the unprepared in the winter months.
In the west, lies the Oradul Rhashad, the "Mountains of Bitter Wind". It was here that the peoples fled across from the east and it was here that the worst battles were and still are faught. The greatest of the Strongholds, the Forge was built in the high valley beneath the foreboding peak known as Kal Dakarm, the "Father in the Sky". Deep in the southern edges of the Mountains of Bitter Wind live the isolated and peculiar Mantu people. These strange humans have mysteriously survived many centuries in the dank and corruptive atmosphere of the mists, seemingly oblivious to the world around them. If not for the crash of a gnomish skyship in their lands they would doubtlessly remained unknown and forgotten. Who knows how many other mysteries lay forgotten in the corruption that covers the mountains?
To the south, lie the dry and barren Jerga Ashpar, the Crimson Mountains. Here in the Stronghold of Templemount, the corruption and evil of the fiendish influence beyond the mountains takes more subtle form. In the gilt-edged and marble halls of this splendid and beautiful mountain city, intrigue of both a mortal and fiendish natures goes on.
On the Nature of the Serewail:
The origins and nature of the Serewail, or Mist as it commonly known, remain cloaked in mystery. Many have sought to plumb its depths, never to see the light of the sun again. It is held by many scholars to be the stuff of raw chaos, deadly and corruptive to fiend and mortal alike. It is known that madness comes in its passing and the spoken tales from those who have entered and survived speak of glimmering and icey shades that flitter and streak about in its tendrils. Others hold that the deeper one goes away from the embrace of the sun, the more corruptive it becomes. Horrible tales are told of bodies and minds mutated in its embrace. Other tales have passed on from the dwarves, of tendrils of mist finding their way into certain caves and tunnels beneath the mountains. This is said to have made many of the Ways Beneath the Stone even more perilous. The truth and mystery of the Mist remains hidden.
The Mountains in the Mist
Hear me O Lords of the Last Haven, that in the Annals of the Uracarl is written the lore of the great dispersal, when the fate of our peoples lay like driftwood upon the sea waves. The tribes of the old kings; the flotsam of the war of the blessed and the cursed, departed the verdant West, the grim North and the sun-cloaked South and fled across the wilderlands to the mighty walls of granite that lay crowned in clouds. Thus did the Free Peoples find the Kessel. Thus did they cross to the Last Haven.
Lore:
Long ago, the remnants and refugees of the western kingdoms fled before the terrible might of the fiends. From the corners of the lands they fled and were assailed. Ever eastwards they were pushed with warriors falling in countless battles and refugees being cut off from retreat and succumbing to tooth and claw.
Finally their lines of retreat ended in the rugged foothills of a series of vast, monolithic mountains. Now the peoples were between the hammer and the anvil, for these mountains seemed impassable for their great numbers, and the endless hordes of the fiend lords moved inexorably eastwards. Many found escape over the hidden passes of the mountains, where ancient tribes already dwelt. They trickled across the mountains in a score of places but still their main and greater part came up against the mountains and could not pass.
The Lords of the Free Peoples called their banners and prepared for the final battle. Yet here in this greatest hour of need, the dwarves of the granite deeps came to the generals, princes, priests and wizards of the peoples and offered them a Pact. The dwarves, the "Progeny of Stone and Flame" offered the Free Peoples safe passage through the Taram Erach, the "Ways Beneath the Stone". The price of this Pact was the bent knee of each great lord, and the handing of their crown to the Lords of Stone and Flame. In appearance this was a symbolic gesture but in truth the crowns of the Old Kingdoms held power and tradition which would now be surrendered to the dwarves. The Dwarves, honourable and proud, would not let the peoples of the Diaspora fall to the tooth and claw and sword. Yet ever hard as the stone, and ever jealous as the flame, they would take their price.
With little choice, the Lords surrendered their crowns of gold and ivory, and the Free Peoples filed into the great tunnels and ways the Dwarves had carved in ages past and so escaped for a time the advancing wave of evil. The dwarves guided them beyondd the stone above to the vast and fertile plains beyond. Yet one Lord, called the Lord of Chance in story and song was too proud to bend his knee and so chose to lead the last sortie against the fiend lords. And with him rode the last and greatest of mages and sorcerors of the Free Peoples.
Far behind, in the valleys and entrances of the Ways, the fiends sought to enter as well. They were met with the greatest of sorcery. It is said that hundreds of powerful sorcerors and wizards (those that remained of the free peoples) fell in mighty and terrible conflagrations that burned away all life along the western face of the mountains. Indeed, the output of magic was so mighty and terrible that the prime material plane's very fabric was ripped apart in places. And thus did the mist come to the world. Flowing like mercury fingers along the mountains' reaches, it moved north and south in a great arc until it touched the sea far to the northeast, and far to the southeast. It flowed up the mountain passes, and along the valleys and dales. It overcame refugees by the hundreds and they disappeared into its merciless grasp. It climbed the peaks and plateaus, and then it stopped. For some reason, it just stopped.
Now, the vast chains of mountains that surrounded the fertile plains to the east lay blanketed in thick, yellow-grey fog. And the mist was called the Serewail in the old tongue, a name to inspire fear and dread in the hearts of children. The "Fingers of Darkness" now blanketed the mountains like an impassable wall. Of course, the majority of peaks and highest plateaus pierced the mist. Today they lie above the seething and flowing strands of the Serewail like disembodied heads.
(MUCH OF THE FOLLOWING WAS KEPT OUT):
On the state of the mountains today:
The mountains that surround the Kessel in a great crescent, have been divided by mapmakers into three great ranges and several smaller sub-ranges. The mountains are perpetually blanketed by a vast sea of flowing mist, which completely engulfs their lower midsts. There are three major Strongholds of the free peoples in the mountains and a great number of smaller towns and villages on the higher reaches. These Strongholds were built by man and orc and dwarf to safeguard the remnants of the free peoples. Their foundings and their histories are as diverse as the free peoples.
Movement between the various holdings and the safe lands of the Kessel is limited to two methods. The first is through the use of skyships (to which the Gnomish Brotherhood have a near monopoly except for sky reavers and the odd independent skyship). The second and more dangerous method in modern times is through the Ways Beneath the Stone (which the Dwarves mostly control except around the Strongholds). There are a number of pure, barbaric groups who reside in isolated areas of the mountains, obviously descended from either fleeing refugees who found themselves stranded, or perhaps descendents of much older peoples that lived in the mountains before the great wars.
To the north lies the Mur Bruach, the "Silent March". Here, deep in the northern edge of the mountains lies the vast and grim Stonghold of the Lord of Blades. Smaller towns and high villages where sheep and mountain goats are raised dot the odd escarpment and plateau as well. Yet the northern mountains become deadly and treacherous to the unprepared in the winter months.
In the west, lies the Oradul Rhashad, the "Mountains of Bitter Wind". It was here that the peoples fled across from the east and it was here that the worst battles were and still are faught. The greatest of the Strongholds, the Forge was built in the high valley beneath the foreboding peak known as Kal Dakarm, the "Father in the Sky". Deep in the southern edges of the Mountains of Bitter Wind live the isolated and peculiar Mantu people. These strange humans have mysteriously survived many centuries in the dank and corruptive atmosphere of the mists, seemingly oblivious to the world around them. If not for the crash of a gnomish skyship in their lands they would doubtlessly remained unknown and forgotten. Who knows how many other mysteries lay forgotten in the corruption that covers the mountains?
To the south, lie the dry and barren Jerga Ashpar, the Crimson Mountains. Here in the Stronghold of Templemount, the corruption and evil of the fiendish influence beyond the mountains takes more subtle form. In the gilt-edged and marble halls of this splendid and beautiful mountain city, intrigue of both a mortal and fiendish natures goes on.
On the Nature of the Serewail:
The origins and nature of the Serewail, or Mist as it commonly known, remain cloaked in mystery. Many have sought to plumb its depths, never to see the light of the sun again. It is held by many scholars to be the stuff of raw chaos, deadly and corruptive to fiend and mortal alike. It is known that madness comes in its passing and the spoken tales from those who have entered and survived speak of glimmering and icey shades that flitter and streak about in its tendrils. Others hold that the deeper one goes away from the embrace of the sun, the more corruptive it becomes. Horrible tales are told of bodies and minds mutated in its embrace. Other tales have passed on from the dwarves, of tendrils of mist finding their way into certain caves and tunnels beneath the mountains. This is said to have made many of the Ways Beneath the Stone even more perilous. The truth and mystery of the Mist remains hidden.
