The Phoenix Song

It was known as the Kingdom of Drèmthanos. A vast kingdom, with borders that stretched from the stony Brill Mountains of the east to the vast mystic oceans of the West, a paradise for all races who dwelled in it. While officially under the rule of a single elfin king and queen, there were actually three dominions within Drèmthanos. The oldest and wisest of all creatures, the elves were ruled by the High King and Queen Elf who were also charged with maintaining the overall security of the nation. The reclusive Dwarves were governed by the Dwarf Lords from their countless of hidden caves within the Brill Mountains. As the youngest race to emerge, man was led by a human King and Queen. For several millennia all three races lived together, squabbling over minor annoyances such as land, resources and where to build new settlements. Yet despite these arguments, the three races lived in virtual harmony, banning together whenever an outside force threatened their homeland. When barbaric men invaded the dwarven lands from beyond the mountains, both the elves and the humans clamored to their aid. When the giants of the north moved south and threatened a great human capital city of Borlethon, the dwarves were the first to arrive with a shipment of new weaponry in which to fend the giants off while the elves encircled the giants and crushed their attack soundly. Even the wretched Satyr’s who often raided both elf and human settlements along the southern border were pursued mercilessly by elf, human and dwarf patrols. During its Golden Age when Drèmthanos was at the height of its power, it possessed a grand elfin, human and dwarf army. Dragons, hippogriffs and griffins lent their strength as specially trained riders took to the air on these beasts of magic and power. Dryads and nymphs dotted the landscape, unafraid of those who approached their woods or lakes and often played with children who were curious enough to visit the trees which sang in the sun. Men and women could travel without fear of bandits between villages and provinces and were welcomed with open arms into any city in the kingdom. Even the secluded dwarves opened their mountain cities to any wayward travelers that required shelter. For generations, the kingdom of Drèmthanos remained undisturbed in its position as the most powerful and peaceful kingdom of the land. Yet as with any Golden Age, it simply could not last. After three consecutive seasons of severe droughts along the southeastern provinces, an area heavily populated by humans, many men began to protest that the elves were using their magical abilities to alter the weather patterns to ensure that they would receive enough food for the winter at the expense of man. The elves denied any such doing, claiming that such use of magic would not only require several great wizards and shamans but also disrupt the elf’s natural link to the earth. Such a disruption could potentially tear the very soil they stood on asunder. Unsatisfied, many human wizards and shamans began to use magic of their own in an attempt to bring their villages prosperity, much to the dismay of the elves. For a short while, the southeastern provinces prospered under the healthy rain that magic had inspired. However, as time progressed, the elfish community began to protest loudly, claiming that the continued use of magic was severely damaging the natural order of nature. The humans ignore their warnings, claiming that the elves were simply jealous as the human economy was now growing in power and influence. To make matters worse, the sudden boost in economic might only seemed to fuel the thought that human wizards and shamans were far more powerful than the elves. Thus, relations between the two races began to wane. The naturally secluded dwarves began to sense a diminished sense of comradeship and began to hide themselves in their cities, refusing entry to those they had once welcomed with open arms. Human shamans continued to conjure up rainstorms whenever a village called for it for several more years until one fateful day, a small human patrol came across a village whose shaman had been regularly manipulating the weather. To their horror, every inhabitant in the village, and the shaman himself was dead. All of the dead had their faces contorted in horrific shapes, their eyes weeping blood and some appeared to have clawed their own faces raw with their fingers. Men, women and children had died where they stood, some while they were walking home from the fields while others died while they were sitting at the local tavern. The shaman and his priests seemed to have suffered the worst fate of all. While some seemed to have simply split in two, many simply appeared to have burned alive. When the patrol finally found the shaman in his tent, they found the man buried up to his waist in the bloodied earth, as if the ground itself swallowed him where he stood. The skin on his face had been peeled off while his arms had been burnt to the bone. The patrol, in such shock at the devastation and death that they had witnessed took three days to ride to the nearest city to report the news, a trip that normally would’ve taken a week. News of the disaster at the village spread quickly through the kingdom of Drèmthanos and on the heels of the news came the rumors of who committed such an autocracy. Some men, particularly those in the southwestern regions would whisper with an evil gleam in their eyes that the only beings in Drèmthanos with the magic power to inflict such damage were the elves. The elves denied any such doing and instead pointed to the dangers they had mentioned years earlier when shamans began to tamper with the weather and nature. Not ones to gloat however, the elves quickly offered their own wizards to visit human villages in an attempt to ensure the devastation of that village would not be repeated. Before the elves could even send such an envoy however, three more villages came under the same assault as the first, each one suffering from a more horrific end than the last. Within days, almost the entire human nation was clamoring for blood, all blaming the elves and their jealousy towards the increasingly powerful humans. All those save for the a few human provinces in the northwest began to ban together in an attempt to make the elves pay for their unprovoked attacks. The elves continued to deny any wrongdoing, pleading with the human king to listen to reason. The human king however, had found himself corrupt with power. Believing that the elves were weak, he gathered his forces and threw a devastating assault on elfish provinces. The elves were totally unprepared for the assault but soon gathered their own forces and countered the attack. The ensuing battle was devastating and thousands of lives were lost on both sides. The war lasted for more than twenty years, and the result turned the land in a scarred battlefield. A jagged line stretching from one end of Drèmthanos to the other marked the line where elf and human fought one another. After twenty-two long years on conflict, with neither side emerging as a clear victor, the elves had all their human allies suddenly withdrew from the lands they had once occupied, seemingly vanishing from existence. The human king proclaimed the elfish retreat as a great victory for him and his kingdom. Within a few years, humans began to spread throughout the lands that were once home to the elves. The king, still hungry for power began to enforce a harsh dictatorship upon the people under his domain as he continued to build up a large army as well as teaching himself all he could learn about magic. Moving the capital city from Borlethon to the former elfish capital, now renamed Hashantia, the king continued his relentless study of magic, hoping to find an enchantment that would render him as immortal as the elves.