Note from the Author: I finally found the backups to this and other excellent stories, so would like to share them with you now. I would also like to remind you that these are not official histories, nor ever will be, so should not be referenced in any official GM events or game quests. I give these to the players of PS to read and enjoy. What you do with them unofficially in your roleplays is up to you.

Death of the Elven Homeworld
Original Scribed in 421 AY by Eduxa Xant-Areth
Copied for public use in 750AY

I shall briefly cover both Dermorian and Nolthrir histories in this text, since they are very closely connected. Much like the dwarves, the two elven races shared a homeworld and arrived in Yliakum through the same portal. Unlike the dwarves, the two elven races did not come through together. Rather, the Nolthrir made the passage three years after the Dermorians. As with all other peoples who came to Yliakum, they did not leave their homes by choice, but were forced to leave. This is not the history of two races, but three.

The homeworld of the elves was a rich and fertile tri-fold land. In its prime, the large Etralia Plains merged into the lush forests of Dermoria, which towered over deep bodies of water and lush wetlands that made up Nolthria. The three ecosystems merged and flourished, each supporting a prosperous and distinct race of elves; Etralnin, Dermorian, and Nolthrir. These three peoples worked in harmony to tend the balance of the land. The Etralnin rode beasts across the plains, encouraging the growth of vast fields of wild grains, roots, and grazing land for prolific herds of undomesticated beasts. The forests were the domain of the Demorians, who tended the trees and forest creatures to provide ample fruits, game, and wood for building the homes of all three races. Experts at the art of farming both the seaweeds and sea creatures, the Nolthrir made the wetlands and lakes their home. All resources were shared equally between the peoples, and nothing was taken without giving back to the land. All elves were nomadic in nature, building small towns within their environments, then abandoning them every few years to give them back to nature. In this way the land was aways kept in a cycle of rebirth. War and conflict were unknown to the people, and no weapon had been created for the purpose of battle or harming another elf in remembered time.

One generation before the portal opened to Yliakum, something unknown changed the balance between the lands and elves. Preparations were being made for the yearly Day of Rejoining in the central forests of Dermoria, just as it had for countless generations. It was the time of great sharing and trade between the peoples. The Dermorians worked diligently, as they knew the Etralnin and Nolthrir would begin arriving within the month to add their own bounties to the great feasts. Midday, a deep and unfamiliar rumbling rang out in the far distant plains, like thunder and one thousand rock slides combined. The Dermorians paused in their activities as the forests drew quiet. The forest awoke with the normal sounds and the elves continued with their labors. The rumbling was forgotten in the anticipation of the coming festivities. The Day of Rejoining came, bringing countless Nolthrir to the forests. They brought lines of carts heaped with the gifts of the water; fish of every description, shells, and seaweed crops useful for food and many crafts.

As Firstnight fell and feasting began, an uneasy feeling settled over the gathered elves. The Etralnin tables remained empty. A day passed, then another without any sign of the missing elves. Scouts were sent out on the eve of the sixth morning. Five days they journeyed, and five days back. They reported that they could find no sign of Etralnin activity in the last few weeks. Their towns were empty and their fires long cold. Midday meals were found dessicated and only half eaten. Even the beasts of the lands were absent. Life seemed to have vanished from the plains. The scouts could only find weeks old tracks heading further into the distance.

The elven elders gathered together to decide on a course of action. It was thought best that an expedition be made. Though the Nolthrir wished to be included in the quest, they knew they could not match their Dermorian brothers and sisters for speed and endurance over open ground. So it came to be that a group of one hundred and fifty two Dermorians left the confines of their forests to follow the trail of their lost kin. The Nolthrir returned to their waters to tend the coming crops.

Days passed, then weeks. A runner returned the second week to report dismal news. They had begun to find the bodies of dead beasts that looked as if they collapsed from thirst and exhaustion. Strangely, their drying bodies held no signs of rot or decay. No camps were were found. The third week brought news of despair. The first Etralnin dead were discovered. It looked as if they had tipped over and died mid step, and were left untouched by fellow hand, beast, or decay. Some looked as if they had been walked over by boots of unmistakable Etralnin design. More weeks passed, then months as the runners came further apart with ever worsening news. It seemed as if the entire Etralnin race was marching to its death. The messages suddenly stopped coming four months later after they reported coming to the edge of the mountains on the far side of the Etralia Plains.

The Dermorians waited another month for news, yet none came. After long debate, they sent another expedition to investigate. This party was much smaller so as to travel more quickly. Once again, the messages stopped coming once the party reached the far mountains. Resigned and unwilling to lose any more people to the unknown, the Demorian elders called off any further searches. They posted watches along their entire border and sent an occasional scout deeper into the plains in hopes of welcoming their kin back. Ten years passed without change. No life returned to the plains. Every year the Dermorians prepared the Day of Rejoining, and every year the Etralnin tables remained empty.

On the eleventh year, the deep rumbling once again sounded from across the Etralia Plains. The Dermorians did not know what to make of it, but hoped it signaled the return of the Etralnin, since its previous sounding had taken them away. Rumors spread quickly that it was indeed the homecoming of their lost kin, and a great celebration was planed by the people. The Elders urged caution and doubled the watches, but the people took no notice. Two months passed and the people's anticipation began to wane. Then one of the scouts from the plains came running and gasping with news that lit their hearts. A great mass of people and animals were coming, and would arrive in two days. Many Dermorans rushed to the edge of the forests to greet their kin home. Joy began to waver as the mass grew ever closer. No other scout that had gone out to meet the Etralnin had returned. A black soot drifted on the light plains wind. On closer inspection, the soot appeared to be dried bits of decay-blackened grass.

Finally, the Etralnin came into view of the Dermorians. The worry that had replaced joy soon turned to terror. The Etralnin skin, once a deep brown-red, had turned to the colour of ash and now formed deep hollows under their eyes. Their hair was completely gone, exposing the sickly skin to the sunlight. They rode their beasts, which also suffered from the same skin and hair affliction. In their hands were long, hooked spears that would be useless in a hunt. The Dermorians quickly found out just what those spears were good for as some of the more brave -or foolhardy- men went out to meet them, despite the foreboding feel to the air. The mounted elves did not hesitate in greeting. With practiced swings of their long spears, they cut the defenseless Dermorians down where they stood. They did not even pause to look at their victims or utter a single word, but kept moving forward at the same inexorable pace. Screams tore themselves from the throats of the watching Dermorians. Never before had they seen nor heard of one elf killing another. The sight threw them into panic, racing back into the safety of their trees. The grass behind the army slowly turned from a healthy yellow-green to the dessicated black and crumbled in the breeze.

If not for the vastness of their forests and their traditions of never building permanent towns, the Dermorans would have been destroyed in a few years. Instead, they suffered relatively few losses to the warped Etralnin, whose mounts and tactics were not suited to the thick forests. The Dermorians sent word to the Nolthrir, warning them to stay out of the forests. The invading elves never spoke, even when killed by a Dermorian. Some who came close enough and escaped alive even claimed they did not breath at all. Their faces were completely without expression. Many said they were the faces of the dead. Even though they could not kill the Dermorians directly, Etralnin had another weapon. Everywhere they went, and everything they touched began to instantly wither and die. Any Dermorians cursed with the touch would die in mere hours, their bodies reduced to festering, black slime. Grass took only a matter of minutes to perish, while trees would take days to crumble to black dust. Slowly, over the next fifty years, the forests of the Dermoria began to vanish. Given less room to hide every year, the forest elves began to suffer losses in greater numbers. Soon, they knew they would have nowhere else to hide.

The Elders finally gave the order to abandon the forests. They intended to find safe harbor with the Nolthrir, and perhaps even attempt to cross the Great Ocean. When the Demorian people emerged on the wetlands border the two realms, they were met with death. The once green glades had become black mires. The Etralnin laid in wait in the deep pools, reaching out to touch any living thing that came near. Gray hands sprouted from the muck in a cruel and terrifying parody of life. Hundreds of Dermorans died as they tried to pass. They had no choice besides turning back into their dying forest. They had reached the end of despair. Nothing more could be done. Hopeless and in a daze, they stumbled into a sheltered clearing holding the most unbelievable site. In their despair, they did not quite acknowledge or understand what they were seeing before them. One by one, their eyes turned towards the upright disk of shimmering light. Fear took hold of them at first, thinking it was another trick of the Etralnin. However, they felt a welcoming peace within the light. A few approached the portal and touched its rippling surface. After finding that no harm came to them, the Dermorians decided it must have been a gift of the goddess of nature. Gathering the last of their seeds, livestock and people, they entered the light and vanished forever from Dermoria. Several brave souls remained to attempt to reach their Nolthrir brethren.

The Nolthrir knew of the destruction in Dermoria, but did not understand its scope. Most knew little more than the Day of Rejoining had been canceled forever and something was attacking the forests. They refused to believe it was their elven kin, and thought the stories were exaggerated tales of wild animal attacks. Only the Nolthrir who traveled to the forest truly believed, and it terrified them. They urged the people to learn how to fight and defend themselves, which was met with outrage. They began to ignore all whispers of the Dermorians and the 'madness' that had taken hold of them, and moved further away from the borders. By the time the Dermorians found the portal, the Nolthrir had completely cut off all contact with them. This was unfortunate for them, as they would have been informed of the terror that was about to engulf their lands.

As the Dermorians left the world, the Etralnin had already begun to infect the wetlands of Nolthria. They did not travel the ways over the dry hamlets, but walked under the waters of the deep streams and lakes. As the Nolthrir had not yet been exposed to the magic of Yliakum that gave them their gills and webbed feet, they were not the prolific divers they are now, so had no clue of the death that passed under their boats. Only dead fish and blackened seaweed marked the plague's underwater march. The Nolthrir were caught unaware when the Etralnin finally struck three years later. Where the Dermorians had lost most of their population over the span of fifty years, the Nolthrir suffered those losses in a single night. They had nowhere to hide in their boats and floating villages. Not when death was coming from the water itself. Countless lives were lost as they slept. Screams rang out across the water to be cut short. Daybreak found the Nolthrir decimated and scattered.

Panic and fear took hold of the few thousand survivors. With nowhere else to run, they gathered their most prized seaweeds and fish spawn in sealed jars and set out in a desperate journey to find safety among the Dermorians. What they did not know was that every last living Dermorian had perished, including the messengers sent to tell them of the portal. The last of the Nolthrir came to what used to be the forests. Alomost nothing remained of the great trees; only black dust and oozing puddles as far as they could see. By chance, a boy found a piece of waxed parchment floating in a shallow pond among the skeletons of an unknown number of elves. The paper contained a map with directions to the Dermorian's portal. The Nolthrir held little hope that the magical gate still existed, but followed the map with feverish intensity. They traveled for two days nonstop before stumbling wearily into a clearing sheltered between a circular outcropping of rock. The grass and trees were still green, and there at the end of the clearing stood the portal. Cries of fear at the rear of their column shook the daze from those that had entered the clearing. The enemy had found them again. The portal began to shimmer and diminish in size. The Nolthrir ran to the portal and rushed through without pause. As the last of them fell through, pursued by the death-gray elves, the portal vanished completely.

As far as I can discern, no living thing remains in the lands of Nolthrir, Dermoria, or Etralia. Given the descriptions of the state the Etralnin were left in, I do not believe they were alive anymore. They were the victims of a death curse, no longer alive, but never able to rest; walking corpses. What caused and controlled this horror may never be known, but let us pray it never reaches our dear Ylaikum.

'Oh snap!' does not apply when the teller is making things up. Check facts before you believe anything Xoel says.

Planeshift parts that are OS: Engine, server, a tiny bit of art and models in the source.

Parts of Ryzom that are OS now: Engine, server, models, art, animations.

Parts of 'my' (not really mine) project that are OS: Engine, server, art, models, animations, rules, content (lore and such).

I would advise your to change your 'Oh Snap!' at Xoel to a...

I'll toss you folks a bone here, since you seem to be floundering about so much. PS and its players, as they are, can not support the reason, roleplay, or repercussions of a real war, or even a real battle. The 'wars' of the past in PS give great example of this. Nothing is gained, and nothing is lost, and the 'war' just continues to drag on until it degrades into griefing or people just get sick of it and ignore the war. What starts as fun ends as a pain in the rear.

"But we want to have a war!" you say?

Then do so. Only don't try to make it a 'real' war with 'real' reasons. Don't make 'sides' based on alignment, or reason for fighting.

"But... that makes no sense at all. I thought you were supposed to be the best roleplayer ever. What happened to you?" you say?

It makes perfect sense in a world where war has no real repercussions to have a fake war. What do I mean by fake war? Simple. Battle drills. Supposed, everyone in the cities are supposed to be ready to defend the cities at a moment's notice. In order to do that, you would set up battle drills. Roleplay reason: You are practicing in the case of a real raid from baddies.

This is an idea steuben and I came up with a few years back, but never got around to putting it on.

Teams are picked, assigned, or freely joined. One side is the defending side, and the other is the attackers, simulating a raid from the Stone Labyrinths. Yes, that would mean you are roleplaying that your characters are roleplaying bad (or good) guys. Since it is 'not real', good or evil characters can join either side. Since it is a 'real' battle drill, and as such, real roleplay, your characters can have full activity in it without inventing any background for it. Since it is only a 'fake' war, there are no real repercussions for your characters to unrealistically deal with after it is over. There is not reason, really, for anyone not to join in because of 'alignment'.

In the end you have all things met for a fun time.

note from the author- Another history I wrote for the game. As with the Lemur history, I am retracting it and thus it is no longer official. This, or any other edited version of it may not be used as official game content. The contents of this history are completely original by me, and do not reuse any previous official content aside from the dwaven names. Some minor edits have been made by others. This history is for you to read and enjoy, not to be used for official roleplaying purposes in the game. What you do with it unofficially is completely up to you.


If you want to make comments about anything other than this story, like/dislike/whatever, or the reasons why it was posted here and removed from the game, go here: http://www.hydlaaplaza.com/smf/index.php?topic=37124.0 . I had to repost here and delete the story there after the thread got out of hand and it got moved to the complaint section.



Written in 395AY by Bengyr [surname of ingame StoneBreaker]
Dwarven Lost Histories

Ylaikum. It is our home now. I am one of the few dwarves still living who has seen our doomed homeland with my own eyes. Years now long past, I had spoken with members of the other races that we now live shoulder to shoulder with. They would often look upwards at the cavern or cave roofs with fear and disdain as they told me of the homelands they had to leave behind the shimmering gates of the god's Portals.  As I write these words, I still cannot fathom the wonders they spoke of. The impossibilities. They spoke of a moving orb of tremendous light that would light up an endless sky. They spoke of lush fields or blue green seas that would stretch farther than the eye could see, yet still go on. I would question their sanity or honesty if the story had not been the same from almost every mouth. My own homeland held none of these marvels. It held naught but stone, heat, caves, and death.

Few records survived the brutal history of my people. The stories tell of massive repositories of knowledge that would dwarf any library in Yliakum today, but we had neither the means nor the time to save but a few books as our world began to die around us. Every moment of our existence was bent towards survival. However, I shall attempt to gather what knowledge I can for this text from the old stories passed down through the generations. I am a Stonebreaker, but this is the history of the Hammerwielders as well. For the purpose of this history I will use the name the other races have given all of our people, as any name we had for our self is long lost to the cursed stones on the other side of the Portal. This is the history of dwarves.

According to legend, we were always a short people, but used to be thin, almost like the children of other races. We too had a thing called a sun in those ancient days. Dwarves loved the sun, revelling in its light as we flourished on the surface. The old stories speak of ice-capped mountains as large as the entirety of Yliakum that touched the clouds, and endless seas of ice that covered the land and waters during the frigid winters. In that time, we worshipped proud gods and followed religious stone books preaching warlike ways. We were an industrious people, just learning the ways of building great structures and the construction of machines of war to honour our gods. No records remain on these mechanical marvels, but it is said they filled the air with thunder and smoke as they crawled across the land. Our great cities and lands brimmed with culture and the proud heritage of countless generations. What my ancestors did not know was that their gods had failed them, and their doom was already building. The glowing sun that brought life to our world would soon begin to destroy it.

What causes a sun to swallow a world, I cannot fathom. Perhaps our gods grew angry with us and began pushing our home and sun closer together. Almost unnoticeable, our sun started to grow larger in the sky. Generations passed and the lands began to warm. First, winters vanished. Then the ice that once covered parts of our world all year round melted, eventually turning the world into vast, fish-filled oceans and small island continents consisting of the once ice-capped mountain ranges. The dwarven people adapted to this change by becoming mighty sailors, constructing fantastic ships of war and commerce to transverse the vast distances of water. They built many great cities of stone, metal, wood, and clever composites atop the mountain peaks and filled them with fascinating machines. They forgot the teaching of the old gods as war became too taxing for their limited resources. Despite the changing world and hardships, my ancestors grew prosperous in this new era of peace. But the sun continued to grow as my ancestors lived and died, gaining more intensity with each passing generation.

The weather became foul at nearly all times, casting storms across the seas in constant squalls. The people had to become more ingenious in their structure and ship design. Finally, the storms became so massive and constant that no dwarfs would risk travel to the other islands and clans became separated. Even the stout cities could no longer withstand the storms, forcing my ancestors to burrow into the rocks of the mountains themselves. The great machines fell dormant as their source of fuel dwindled, and their making began to fade from the minds of the people. This did not prevent my ancestors from the continued study of smaller mechanics to aid in their survival. This is when the dwarven people started to branch off into the different peoples of today, as there was no longer intermixing of the islands. Though their strongholds where relatively close together, those that would become known as Stonebreakers and Hammerwielders would not see each other again for generations.

In time, the clouds thickened and the storms settled, protecting the world from the swollen sun. Some dwarves began to move back into their ruined surface cities, thinking it was now safe, but doom was at hand. A catastrophe beyond description descended on the world of my people. The Burning Wind. In all stories it is called the same. A horror of flaming wind battered the mountain strongholds. No story is certain what caused the wind, or what it even looked like. All that is known is that it killed and burned every living thing not deep within the safety of the caves. When the survivors finally emerged, they were met with destruction and smoldering desolation as far as they could see. The sun, not seen for generations, suddenly loomed enormous in the sky. It would burn the skin in minutes. It would kill in an hour. The waters of the oceans had lowered a tremendous amount, almost as if a god had reached down and scooped it away. The dwarves were forced to move underground permanently. They took to wearing metal hats and plates sewn on leather to protect themselves from the harsh rays of the sun if they had to go above ground, though they generally only did so at night in hopes of finding fish in their deepwater traps. My ancestors began the task of digging great tunnels by hand to reach the other clans in hopes of finding survivors. After years of digging, they did not find what they expected.

When the sun started to burn the very land, some clans saw this as a sign from the old gods that they were grasping at powers they should not be, and were being punished for forgetting their teachings. They went back to their ancient warlike roots and proud religion, and began the crafting the long hammers and pole axes of ancient times. They took the name Hammerwielders to honor the old gods. Other clans of shorter dwarves in nearby cities did not believe this, so kept to their ways of vast community construction projects and the study of machines. The two peoples were close enough that my ancestors' tunnels reached the Hammerwielders first. The Hammerwielders did not give them a warm welcome and became angered when the clan refused to worship the old gods of war, naming them Stonebreakers for breaking the religious laws written in the stone books of old. The two groups went their separate ways, not to talk again for generations.

The swelling sun continued to heat the surface stone to unbearable temperatures, forcing the dwarves to dig deeper with each generation. The once vast oceans evaporated into the sky. Unable to form rain, the water expanded into tall clouds, only to be washed away by yearly Burning Winds. This cycle continued until my home world was nothing more than a vast, lifeless desert. The only water to be found was deep in the still-cool rocks the dwarves tunneled into. No dwarf ever saw the sky again. Moving underground changed us. The deeper we dug to escape our sun, the harsher it became, killing off all but the stoutest and strongest of each generation until they gained the look of those seen today.

Food was desperately hard to find underground, but the resourceful dwarves learned how to cultivate edible molds and lichens, which they also used to feed their sturdy little pack-beasts. These beasts were the only source of meat to the dwarves besides foul tasting insects that somehow survived as well. But time was running out as the sun continued to expand. In the time I was born, my people knew my generation was to be the last. Hope was completely lost. They could delve no deeper or suffer the heat coming from deep within the rock, boiling the blood in their veins. They could not go back, for the light and heat of their cursed sun would burn the very flesh from their bones. In the depths of hopelessness, a miracle formed in the guise of a glowing blue-silver disk. A portal.

It was the Hammerwielders who first came upon the Portal, and knew it to be a gift of the gods. They began to travel into the blessedly cool caves that welcomed them on the other side. Despite their differences with my people, the Stonebreakers, the Hammerwielders could not leave their wayward brothers and sisters behind, so sent a group to find them. After many days of hard travel, the groups finally found the remaining Stonebreakers ensconced in a city designed to shelter them from the heat. I still remember how it was beginning to fail. No matter how long or hard we ran our pumps, the air became more stifling every day. It took no convincing for my parents and the rest of the Stonebreakers and the few odd refugees from more distant cities to follow the Hammerwielders back to the portal. Even my Father and Mother thanked the gods as they stepped through into their new home.

Our Portal closed soon after the last of the survivors came through, sealing us forever away from what used to be our home. If it still exists, I have little doubt that all that remains is molten rock and death. The years weigh heavy on my bones now, and I feel my own death coming swift. Soon my memories of the past will be gone, and only these words will remain. Yliakum. It is our home, our savior. Cherish what the gods have given you.

 Portal Location inYliakum  : Deep in the caves between the Dermorians and Xacha. Shared with Stonebreakers.

 

Events Immediately after Portal Entry :

320- late. It is winter. Cool air floods the caves. The two races work together for a time as they try to keep warm. The Hammers outnumber the Stones three to one, with smatterings of other refugee dwarven races mixed in. The cone shaped metal hats of the Stonebreakers are used to burn dried mosses to cook the abundant game in the area, including [cave creatures], which will become one of the delicacy meats in Yliakum. Not much thought is given to exploring yet, though some large rooms (opening in caves are called rooms) are found nearby with fresh water and heavy growth of the odd cave moss that glows a slight blue, and seems to flourish in the complete dark (radiation/magic from the Crystal penetrates the rock?). The Stonebreakers are forced to admit that there must be gods, as they can explain the portal no other way, but for the most part refuse to go back to the old, war-like teachings. They are a race of peaceful dwarves now. This creates some tension between the races, but no major conflict breaks out.

321- The dwarves begin to explore farther away from their Rooms as the temperature begins to rise slightly in the Yliakum spring and summer. The rising temperature frightens many of the people. The Stones go in search of good stone and sources of metal to build things, and new sources of small game and the moss, while the Hammers hunt for bigger predators that sometimes hunt them in return. War is in their blood now, and they crave the rush of the hunt, battle, and kill. They find many worthy foes in the semi-intelligent and powerful beasts that dwell in the caves below. The Stones will begin crafting rudimentary forges, using them to fix many of the Hammer’s weapons and armour in way of repayment. Both races will work together to start building new structures for living and defense. A small amount of tunnelling is started to expand the rooms, but no plans are set.

322- The first permanent structure is completed. It is a basic foundry built in hopes of finding metal ore soon, though the prospecting has been unpromising so far. Tensions are beginning to rise between the races as the Stones still refuse to go back to the old ways. The Hammers think this will once again bring the anger of the gods down on them. The two races begin to build living structures on opposite ends of the Room complex, the Stones on the side where fewer large creatures come from (towards Yliakum). The Hammers see this as cowardly, though not much mention is made. The greatest insult to a coward is to know they are a coward, but not say it to them. The Stones do not understand this custom, but can feel the hostility. The fear of temperatures rising starts to fade as the dwarves begin to see the cycle of the seasons.

323- The two races continue to grow further apart, only talking if they have to. The first rich ore mines are found past the Stone side of the complex. The Stones want to mine the ore to make tools, while the Hammers demand the right to make weapons. Fights break out and some dwarves are wounded badly, but there are no deaths. The Stones know they have no chance in a greater battle, so relinquish control of the vein and foundry to the Hammers. This appeases the Hammers, and a tensioned peace returns. The buildings being build by both races are becoming more complex as they continue tunnelling outwards from the original Rooms.

324- The Rooms have been expanded into a small city due to the relentless work of the smaller group of Stones. The Hammers uses these new structures and caves to start spreading out, claiming areas for individual families, as they value their privacy. In exchange, they provide meat and protection to the Stones. In the fall of the year, a group of vicious creatures attacks from the Stones’ side of the city, killing eight women, two children, and seven men before they can organize a resistance and drive the creatures off. The Hammers learn of this and decide to hunt down and kill these semi-intelligent beasts to avenge their cousins. A group of fifty warriors is dispatched. Twenty-three Stones go with them. On the hunt, they pass a cavern with a raging river cutting a deep and wide gorge into the stone, and no way across. On the other side, they see a tall race of white-skinned humans (the Xacha) that seem on the verge of starvation, though have no way to reach them quickly, and the hunt trail is getting cold. The dwarves shout out that they will return when they can, but the Xacha do not understand the harsh Dwarven tongue. The hunt goes on through multitudes of twisters and turns, ups and downs, making the journey a hundred times longer than a straight walk.

325- The Dwarves finally catch up to the fleeing beasts, cornering and slaying them all. Only one Hammer was lost. The Stones that were there fall on the beasts in vengeful frenzy with their spears and borrowed longaxes (a Hammerwielder would never let another race use one of their hammers.) In the heat of the hunt, they had started to notice a change in the smell of the air, and felt the temps get warmer and warmer. Curious, they follow this fresh smell for not a great ways to come upon Yliakum. The land is in the dead of winter, so a light dusting of snow covers the ground. It is whispered that all of the dwarves wept unashamed into their beards as they stood before the Crystal for the first time, and talked of the legends of when they once roamed great plains of ice in their homeland. They talk long of what they would do; finally deciding to travel back to the Xacha to see how they could aid these odd people. A certain god listens to that conversation, though does not make himself known. The journey back to where they had seen the Xacha does not take long, as they took a straighter route. But the Xacha are nowhere to be found. The dwarves can see no good way to cross anywhere, and leave, though promising to return to build a bridge spanning the gorge. Little do they know that Laanx has already found the Xacha, and has hidden them away.

325- Early Spring. The Hammers and Stones arrive back in the Rooms and tell of what they have seen. A council is formed of the leaders of both races to decide what to do. After much quiet discussion over the course of a week, a choice is made. The dwarves know full well that if they tried to stay together, bloodshed would eventually erupt between them. The Stones willingly agree that they should leave the blossoming city and travel to the cave of the Crystal. The battle loving Hammers would remain in the city where their prey is near. There is deeper meaning behind their decision to stay, though they do not tell the Stones. If the Stones are the reason their old homeland died, then the Hammers do not wish to anger the gods again by following to Yliakum. All of the Stones pack up in the next week and start on the long journey. Some of the refugee dwarves go with them, while others more like the Hammers stay. A group of 200 Hammers goes with them to ensure the safety of their brethren on the way, and vows to stay until the Stones are settled.


325-Spring to summer. Hammers and Stones conflict with the Enki or Ylian on the first level. The Light of the Crystal will be harmful to their eyes and skin at first, making the Stones think it would be a good idea to go down a few levels somehow. A helpful Kran they meet understands their plight, if not their tongue, and gives them a map to the nearest ramp down [we should have some sort of Kran or Lemur 'Ramptown']. Once at the ramp, the Stones and Hammers decide to part ways, as the danger seems to be over. The 3000 (?) Stones start heading down the ramp, while the Hammers head back the way they came. The Hammers have a few more battles with the Enki or Ylian, though nothing severe. It is almost as if the other race/s are testing them. The dwarves' well-made armour protects them from most weapons and arrows. After a few days, the other race stops raiding and gives up, seeing the dwarves as too tough a target. The dwarves make it back to the Labyrinth without any further conflict.

Once in the Labyrinth, the Hammers return to the place they last saw the Xacha. They call across the gorge for two days straight, hoping that the white men hear. No one ever comes. The dwarves see this as a challenge, and refuse to let the gorge delete them. Despite not being great builders like the Stones, they are not unskilled, and decide the best thing to do is to build a bridge. They take measurements and draw a detailed map of the area, and a rough sketch of the intended bridge. As with everything the Hammers design, it is to be massively overbuilt. The plans set, they travel back to the Rooms. A small group of dwarves stays behind in case the Xacha come back, and will be changed every week.

325- The third level is sparsely populated when the Stones arrive, as most of the Lemur and many Kran who had built the ramps to this depth moved back up to richer grounds. They find the light and temperature comfortable at this distance from the Crystal, and decide to make it their new home. They have forgotten the ways of building freestanding houses; so opt to once again carve a city into the stone, though this time in one of the great walls. They set in for a labour that they know will take them a great many years. They try to keep themselves busy to distract themselves from their troubled past. Within the year, they establish trade with the food-growing races on the upper level in exchange for stoneworking services, fine steel tools, and materials only found on the third level.


326- Winter. The Hammers have returned to the gorge in force. They start the slow, steady construction of the massive bridge and the anchor fortress used to house the workers. Work also continues expanding the rooms of the city as well.


327- Some Hammers go to Yliakum to start a trade of meat, metals and furs for grown food as the moss is not very good at sustaining the dwarves, nor does it taste very good. Game is still plentiful, though (and likely still is to this day) so they have plenty of meat. Other races my take an interest in the Hammers' project, including some Stones.

327- There are a few conflicts with the Stones and others living on the second level (Barn). Most of them are over trade disputes, or dwarven pride. The other races soon learn it is not advisable to point out a Stonebreaker’s size. The Hammerwielders send message to the Stones, asking for aid in the construction of a bridge in the Labyrinth where the Xacha were last seen. Perhaps a few hundred accept, mostly young men without families.


340- Though the passages are far from completed, they are finished enough that the Nolthrir can move down to their final settlement safely. Many Kran had come to help with the working as well, and the Stonebreakers get along well with them. This results in many Stonebreakers turning to Talad. Some few people from every race in Yliakum also join in the labour for varying reasons.

340-400?- The Stonebreakers continue to work on the ramps, both up and down, making them all safer for passage. It is still very slow, so their best minds get together with the mages of other races to discuss building machines that can lift from one level to another. Perhaps work is even started (or even finished) on one on the third or second level.


330- The red rock fortress at the edge of the cliff is roughly completed, and the bridge is halfway across. The bridge is suspended by massive cables anchored in the fortress. Delays have been caused by creatures attacking both the rooms and to a smaller extent, the bridge fortress. Good trade continues to come from Yliakum as the Hammers become a reliable source of meat and fur for the other races.


330- winter The Klyros show up near the Stones' settlement as the weather begins to get too cold for them to glide. The Klyros are not exactly untrusting of the dwarves as much as indifferent. The dwarves go to the Klyros and learn some basic speech, though the Klyros don’t bother to try to learn Dwarven. They seem to act as if the dwarves do not exist to them as soon as they part, and not until they meet again. It is not done in an insulting way, and the Stones are not sure what to think of it.

331- Spring – The Klyros leave one day without saying a word to the Stones. They are last seen jumping off the cliff and gliding downwards. The Stonebreakers consider this for a time, wondering what might be down there.

331- Word of the first meeting between the Klyros and Laanx reaches the Hammers. Many will see Laanx as a god worth worshipping (see Religious Affiliation), and the religion finds its first roots in Hammer society. Many Stones and Hammers have learned the tongues of the other races, mostly Lemur/Kran (which will become Common), and learn all they can of Laanx.

332- Nolthrir move down to third level where the Stones are hard at work carving out their city. The Nolthrir find that they cannot safely move all of their people any deeper, so set up camp away from the dwarves. The Stones notice the Nolthrir watching them, but don’t see them as much of a threat. After what happened with the Klyros, the dwarves decide to let the elves come to them. Finally, after a few weeks, a few of the Nolthrir leaders come to the dwarves and attempt to communicate. It takes a few weeks to learn each other’s tongues well enough to talk. A small trust is gained between the two races, and a deal is struck. The Stonebreakers agree to build safe passage all the way down to the water far below. In return, the Nothrir will provide the dwarves with fish and water-grown crops (rice?) from the third level lakes and lower as they reached each new level. Since the dwarves are not good fishermen and worse farmers, they are glad to start this new, grand project.

335- The red stone bridge is completed enough to send the first explorers across, though the last 100 feet is mostly temporary beams and planks. The first group of Hammers that crosses never returns, nor does the one sent after it. This causes the dwarves to hold back any more groups until the bridge is finished, so that they may send a battle ready army. All other projects are stopped and every available worker is placed on the bridge.


336- The basic bridge is finished, allowing an army of 500 Hammers to cross. The Hammers arrive in a complete city Laanx had created for the Xacha in late spring after bridging the gorge. Tensions are high due to the dwarves' search for their missing brethren. However, the dwarves see the signs of Laanx on the buildings the god crafted for the Xacha, and wish to learn more about their chosen god. (Note: The Hammers first learned of Laanx from the other races in Yliakum, and chose to worship Laanx because of his treatment of the Klyros.) Both Xacha and Hammers understand basic Lemur (which is already starting to be called Common in Yliakum), and the Hammers begin to write Laanx texts based on what the Xacha and Lemur teach them. The Xacha also learn of Yliakum for the first time, and some chose to leave the city in order to return to their old ways. Many Lemur travel to Yliakum as well, hoping to reunite with their long lost people. The Xacha and Lemur tolerate the Hammers, but neither races becomes endeared to the other. Once the Hammers gather the knowledge they want, they part. Only a few of the dwarves' religious leaders return over the next years to learn more about Laanx. Some even choose to stay, completely casting off their old dwarven ways.

The missing dwarves are never found.


336 to 357- Tensions rise within the formidable Hammerwielder city as the worship of Laanx becomes stronger. Fights become more and more commonplace between the worshippers of Laanx and those that follow the old gods.


357- A bloodfeud is started between two Hammer clans over the religious conflict. Other clans from each side join in until the entire city is at war. The followers of Laanx now outnumber the other faction, and the battles are fierce. The city rings with the sounds of war for three months. Finally, the old stone books are found by the Laanx-ites, and smashed before the population. A great speech is given by a very charismatic leader, saying if the old gods were still alive, that they would have been able to stop what he was about to do. He then throws the books from a tower/cliff/wall/top of stairs/hits them with hammer. The followers of the old gods are humbled, and all of them go to one knee to admit defeat. No one openly worships the old gods again, and the entire Hammer populous changes to Laanx.


370- The Hammers meet Dermorians for the first time. A group of 23 Hammerwielders were prospecting in caves far from the Rooms, looking for both new mining sites and for hunting grounds. An odd odour hung in the air, and no game was to be found, despite plenty of moss for foraging. This puzzled the dwarves, though they continued on their way. In a dead-end side passage, they found the telling signs of a rich copper ore vein. Not finding anything to fight, the dwarves set their weapons and armour (only a fool mines in full armour) outside the passage to keep the dust from them, and started digging at the rock with their picks. Two dwarves were left on guard.

Unknown to the dwarves, a nightmarish creature lay in wait under a blanket of moss only one hundred paces from where they laboured. The creature let out a deafening bellow as it began its attack, spitting caustic liquids on the two guards, who were well within its range. The guards hollered in pain and rushed to warn the others. The creature was slow, moving at only a fast walk at best, but was close enough to the mouth of the passage that it got there before the stunned miners could react to the two guards. They found themselves trapped without their weapons as the beast came closer. The dwarves began shouting at it, hoping to scare it back, and some flung their picks at the creature, only to have them bounce off the beast’s heavily armoured front. The creature unfurled long segmented arms with sharp barbs, completely piercing the chest of one of the warriors who came too close. Without armour, the dwarves knew they would stand no chance. Readying their picks, they braced for a final charge.

The creature roared in pain before the dwarves could strike their first futile blow, and began backing away from them. The dwarves pursued, pounding fiercely with their picks on the creature’s thick frontal carapace. Two more dwarves died to the flailing, barbed arms as the beast rapidly backed all the way out of the passage. The dwarves then saw what was causing the thing pain. A group of 15 or more tall, thin men with no beards and pointy ears were thrusting spears under the beast’s heavy plating, though they did not seem to be doing much harm. Not ones to lose a moment, the dwarves ran to their heavier long-hammers and rushed to join the Dermorians. Both races circled the beast, always keeping behind it where the hooks of the lumbering creature could not reach. The heavy swings of the dwarves' hammers soon cracked the segmented carapace, allowing the elves to thrust deeply with their long-bladed spears. The creature was soon dead. The two groups separated and turned to face one another. The leaders both stepped forward.

The Dermorian leader and Deirgan Bloodaxe stood nearly toe-to-toe, each sizing the other up. The Hammerwielder spoke first, his words obviously foreign to the young Dermorian’s ears. The elf responded in his own language, though Deirgan understood not a word of it. The elf picked up a flint rock and scratched out a rough drawing on the tunnel floor. Deirgan recognized the drawing as the creature just slain, saying “beast” in dwarven. The other leader nodded and said a completely different word which sounded amusing to the dwarves, almost like soft baby talk. Deirgan laughed at the Dermorian’s funny word, but understood the meaning and nodded. The two groups sat near their fallen prey and worked out a simple system for greeting and barter, exchanging the most basic of words. Minimalistic communication established, the two groups began dressing out their kill, working efficiently together. Deirgan stood for a moment with his comrades, wondering how to meet these worthy people again. The leader of the elves answered this by holding up the rock he had used to draw the beast, and bringing his hands together over it. He then placed the stone over the drawing. Deirgan understood that that would be the place they next met. The dwarves gathered their dead and burned them, though one of the dead men had vanished, and headed back to the Rooms. The Elves went the opposite direction.


370 to 400-ish- The Hammers and Dermorians establish good relations and start to develop trade. The Hammers show the Dermorians the way to Yliakum, but most of the elves choose to stay in their village. A trickle of Hammers start moving to Yliakum, but not many yet. Most of them are secretly worshipping the old gods, though some go to join the escalating conflict between Ylian and Enki.


415- A dark, unnatural fog sweeps into the Rooms. It is obviously of magic origin, and the dwarves have no training at all to defend themselves. Shapes are seen at the leading edge of the fog, though neither the infravision of the dwarves nor nightvision of the elves can see any deeper. Some survivors claim to have seen riders atop horrid beasts. The Rooms are overrun in less than a day. They flee all the way to the cave opening to Ylaikum, where they meet the fleeing Dermorians, and both turn to face the black fog. The Crystal is eclipsing, and the fog seems to diminish, allowing the Hammers and Dermorians to fight the heavily cloaked riders and beasts. The dark fog pushes the defenders into Yliakum itself. The battle is pushed right to the walls of Ylon Donari, a Ylian city sacked by the Enki. There is a large force of Enki and Ylian there, as the Ylian are trying to retake the city. They are forced to turn and fight the riders. Any of the riders that are killed vanish in flames, and none let themselves be captured alive, though the beasts remain (could this be the origin of some of the mounts in PS?). Finally, the fog army is pushed back into the caves as the eclipse ends. The dead are countless in the ranks of Hammers and Dermorians, and severe losses in the Ylian and Enkidukai.

End of the 4th Epoch.

-------------------SUMMARY SECTION-------------------

320- Dwarves come through portals.

321- The dwarves begin to explore farther and build.

322- The first permanent structure is completed.

323- The Stones relinquish control of the vein and foundry to the Hammers.

324- Xacha are seen.

325- The Dwarves find Yliakum.

325- Early Spring. The Stones leave the city and travel to the cave of the Crystal.

325-Spring to summer.

325- The Stones settle on the third level and begin carving a city into the wall.

326- Winter. The Hammers have returned to the gorge in force. They start the slow, steady construction of the massive bridge and the anchor fortress used to house the workers.

327- Some Hammers go to Yliakum to start a trade of meat, metals and furs for grown food.

327- Some Stones go to aid the Hammers in the construction of the Redstone Bridge.

330- The red rock fortress at the edge of the cliff is roughly completed, and the bridge is halfway across.

330- winter The Klyros show up near the Stones' settlement and mingle little. They leave the following spring.

331- Hammers start worshipping Laanx.

332- The Nolthrir show up on the third level and convince the Stones to start building paths all the way down tot he lake.

335- First dwarves cross the bridge, but do not return.

336- The basic bridge is finished, allowing an army of 500 Hammers to cross.

336 to 357- Tensions rise within the formidable Hammerwielder city as the worship of Laanx becomes stronger.

340- The passages are done enough to get down. The Stones continue to improve them. Sometime before the year 400, they might start working on a winch going from the second to third level.

357- A bloodfeud is started between two Hammer clans over religious conflict. The old gods are banned from worship.

370- Hammers meet Dermorians for the first time.

370 to 400-ish- The Hammers and Dermorians establish good relations and start to develop trade.

400?- The fog comes, driving the Hammers out.


SIGNIFICANT PERSON TRACKING:

Format for lines: Person Name – Summary of person.


Deirgan Bloodaxe- Leader of the group that first met the Dermorians.

Those who can not debate the facts of a matter in fear of losing to their opponent often resort to undermining the character of said opponent without offering any facts of their own, thus attempting to render their opponent's facts impotent.

One of us is a liar in this matter. Only one of us can back up the points with actual facts. The other will likely say they are covered under the NDA, so can't be talked about in public, or deny them outright and arbitrarily.

Players can use it how they want, Talad can not profit from it. I am fine with that.

You would be surprised at the number of people that never signed. I am unique in the fact that I admitted it. But, like I said, I would rather dump my stuff in the trash and never have it seen by the light of day than to have Talad even attempt to profit from it.

Quote from: Grigori on April 03, 2010, 05:01:51 am

Well, now one needs progressive points and practice points to improve skills. How about leaving only practice points?

Well then learning new skills would be very cheap indeed. The system right now is very nice IMHO. First you go to a trainer npc who teaches you the theory of a certain skill (like sword making). He doesn't want to do this for nothing so you pay him some money and some progression points. After that you practice.

I think it is a nice system and do not see a reason to change it.

Greetings,

Progression Points are imaginary. They do not actually exist in the game. It is not even mentioned anywhere in or out of the game what they are supposed to represent. Yet here you are, cutting them off of creatures, digging them out of dirt, and picking them out of the crumbs of your freshly baked bread. On top of that, NPCs demand these imaginary 'currency' and a ton of true money in order to pay for the privilege of going out and learning stuff on your own. Unless you count the millisecond between giving them your cash and getting permission to train as 'teaching you the theory' of the skill.

Why are they even needed at all? You could just pay for 'theory' with real money. You go train with what you were told (whatever that is in a millisecond). You learn everything your teacher told you (via maxing out the green/blue/yellow/whatever bar). You go back and say "Master, I have learned all that you have taught me. I am ready for the next lesson." He tells you to fork over more cash for the next lesson. Ba da bing, done.

The only issue with getting rid of PP is that you can pay for things like strength outright without ever having to train them, so you could buy a max level in one day with enough money. That is a flaw in the system, and PP are the flawed plug to fill that hole. PP over-complicate what should be a rather simple system with redundant and useless points that are completely un-roleplayable.

I don't see how in the world getting rid of PP would make more PLers when you HAVE to grind to get them. 'Getting' things is why powerlevelers do what they do. They are something that encourages PLing.

Ok, you want to slow down PLers? Don't do it with artificial and imaginary points that the roleplayers can't even use. Make a simple solution.... wait for it....

Slow training down by limiting how much you can train in a day.

"You can not train anymore today, your body/mind is exhausted."

Seems like a real no-brainer for a game based on rolepaying.