Being a record compiled by Allenden Legendremain, Master Bard, Sage and Historian, and Royal Bard to the Court of Evendarr, composed from accounts housed in the Royal Archives and the Royal Bardic Guild at Evendarr City in the 596th year of that realm, sponsored by HRM King Mykel Endarr II in the second year of his new reign. It was copied by my hand in July 597, from the original which was presented to Count Gaereth Gaelschin as an acknowledgement of Honor,Esteem, and Appreciation by Mykel Endarr, King of Evendarr on September 1, 596 YE.

I Beginnings

For several centuries prior to the founding of Evendarr, petty squabbles and civil strife in one location or another almost continually wracked the territory that was to become the original kingdom. Trade, agriculture and purses were suffering. The infighting often left frequently shifting borders vulnerable, and caravan routes open to attack by monsters, pirates and brigands. Most of the human population had long since forgotten the original reasons for the enmities, except for a trait characteristic of nearly all races of sentient mortals, suspicion of, and hostility towards, all strangers. The non-human inhabitants among the more civilized races tended to either keep to themselves, or stay away altogether, a loss of valuable trade opportunities for everyone.

It was not until four rulers of about the same age and enlightenment (the lieges of Endarr, Greymoor, Nevis, and Sardonia) had assumed their positions of power that hopes for a wider peace began to brighten. Even so, it took fifteen years following the marriage of Prince Berthold Endarr of the Principality of Endarr to Queen Merriel Monay of the Kingdom of Sardonia, before most of the stubborn old reactionaries finally died off and negotiations for a greater union began to bear substantive results. An additional decade and a half had to pass before the last pretenders to the throne of Endarr were finally eliminated, and a time of peace began to settle upon the New Kingdom.

II Union

At the time of the signing of the Union Treaty of Velowyn, which united those four realms to form the Kingdom of Evendarr in Yr. 1 the positions of the founders were, and became: Sir Berthold Endarr (Age 40) Prince of Endarr (King of Evendarr), Dame Merriel Monay (Age 35) Queen of Sardonia (Queen of Evendarr), Lord Regis Buttons (Age 34) Chancellor of Endarr (Lord Chancellor of Evendarr), Sir Aylward Huntington (Age 39) Archduke of Greymoor (Knight of Evendarr and Viscount of Cwyll), Dame Winifred Bartholemew (Age 38) Princess of Nevis (Knight of Evendarr, And Knight Commander of the Royal Army of Evendarr). Although there was widespread popular support for the new rulers, a number of disaffected nobles refused to acknowledge the new treaty or kingdom. Many of them felt that Sir Aylward was the better choice, particularly his own vassals in Greymoor. It was he who had been the chief negotiator for the treaty, as well as the man who had earned the trust of all the principals involved. Sir Aylward had, however openly pledged his support to Berthold and Merriel from the beginning, and he insisted that his success had stemmed from this public declaration at the outset of negotiations that he would not act on his own behalf. No amount of persuasion could impel him to break that oath of fealty to the new King and Queen.

Lord Valdric Dorsette, one of Aylward’s own vassals of Greymoor, led the opposition. Valdric was the elder brother of Berthold’s first wife, the late Princess Clothilde, and the uncle of their 22-year-old son, Regweld. He was also a spurned suitor for Queen Merriel’s hand. It was said that he had gone mad after Merriel had chosen Berthold. Valdric was a brilliant and charismatic Arch-Wizard who was able to join all of the kingdom’s adversaries into a united front. Many believe it was Valdric who engineered King Berthold’s assassination and Obliteration before his reign was less than a year old.

Once the crown passed solely to the Queen, Lord Valdric began an impassioned campaign both to court her hand in marriage again, and to press for her declaration of Sir Regweld as the next heir. Not only did the Queen refuse him once more, but also she followed her own judgement and the advice of the loyal majority of her nobles. She proclaimed Berthold II, her fourteen-year-old son by the late king, to be the Crown Prince. Enraged beyond reason, Valdric killed the Queen and himself. Upon resurrecting, he led the disaffected nobles into rebellion, acting as both Mage and Chief Advisor to the young and ambitious Regweld. A fifteen-year war of succession began.

IV The Early Struggle

Major support for the Anti-Royalists never reached sufficient strength to enable their forces to wage all-out war. Valdric’s strategies and deployment tactics were effective in maximizing Regweld’s guerilla operations, thus preventing the completion of the kingdom’s consolidation under Merriel. In addition two other pretenders surfaced at this time. Sir Darriel Endarr, a cousin of the late king, declared his legitimacy by bloodright. Lady Soledra De Sardon, of Sardonia based her claim on the fact that Queen Merriel’s family had wrongfully banished her grandfather, Vincent De Sardon for high treason some fifty years earlier, when the Monay family became the lieges of that land.

In May of Yr. 5, Crown Prince Berthold married Dame Chandria Buttons, the daughter of the Lord Chancellor. That wedding celebration ended with an attack on the capitol by Darriel Endarr’s forces. Sir Aylward and Lord Regis had scried the enemy’s intent. The attackers became the victims, and Darriel was killed. The following April, Princess Chandria gave birth to a son, Berthold III, who was immediately declared the heir. Darriel and his forces retreated to the west, but the strife was far from over. Under Valdric’s tutoring, Regweld sought an alliance with Soledra, and agreed to marry her. They would share the monarchy in exchange for the joining of their forces.

The rebels laid siege to Cwyll throughout the summer of Yr. 6. The siege was not broken until October, after three days of fierce fighting. The royal forces were victorious, but at great cost. Sir Aylward had taken several deaths, and Queen Merriel, did not resurrect. Regweld and Soledra’s forces had been nearly annihilated, and they retreated south to the Black River. For most of the next decade, they lived as outlaws, traveling around the fringes of the kingdom. During this time, Soledra gave birth to a son, Vincent Regweld Dorsette De Sardon.

VI Interim

In the aftermath of the royal victory at Cwyll, Valdric was dismissed in disgrace as the rebels’ advisor. It is said that learning of Merriel’s final death completed his journey into madness. He fled into the hills in the west, which were called the Green Hills in those days, and transformed himself into a liche. He began to raise an army of undead and vowed revenge on the kingdom, now led by its twenty-year-old king Berthold II. One of the reasons that the rebels had nearly succeeded in taking the royal city was Valdric’s success in recruiting powerful spellcasters and wizards to his side. During his days of service to Lord Aylward Huntington, Valdric Dorsette was known to be an accomplished Celestial Arch-Wizard. It is believed that he began training in the arts of Earth Magic shortly after the onset of the succession war, and achieved Arch-wizard rank in this discipline as well.

Recognizing the need for similar forces loyal to his king, Sir Aylward sought the help of his younger brother Lord Lawrence Huntington, who was Crown Mage to the throne of Evendarr. Lord Lawrence was commissioned to found a royal school of magic in Cwyll, and by year ten, a flourishing academy, with its great dwarven crafted tower stood a short distance outside the city walls. Lord Lawrence was even able to attract several wizards and spellcasters from the elven kingdom of Quentari, who perceived that helping to build and stabilize an honorable human realm to their east would benefit both lands.

In Yr. 14, Regweld, Soledra, and a force of over 2000 made their way into the Green Hills to renew their alliance with Valdric. They had pillaged their way across southern Greymoor and western Endarr. With gold stolen from a dwarven mining community in the Arawyn Mountains, they had managed to hire nearly all the available mercenaries in the lands to the south of the kingdom. When they arrived, however, they discovered that Darriel had preceded them with an even larger army, and fighting nearly broke out among the three pretenders. Valdric put a stop to it, declaring that they had to defeat the royal forces before they could choose among themselves. It is said that while he still favored his nephew Regweld, Valdric was far less interested by now in who sat upon the throne of Evendarr, than in establishing himself as the real power behind it. The Arch-Wizard had taken pains to conceal the true strength and nature of his forces even from his allies. Only a few of his most trusted minions knew of his secret army. He intended that the bulk of his soldiery not be used until a pitched battle with the royal forces had been engaged. This would be accomplished by drawing Berthold’s forces onto the ground of Valdric’s choosing against the combined troops of the pretenders. These would be smaller in number, but would have the advantage of terrain. It was the thousands of undead that Valdric had created over nearly a decade’s span, waiting to be loosed upon the battlefield at his command that would turn the tide against the Evendarrians. As the rebel leaders met to plan their strategy, Valdric radiated confidence in their success.

VI The Final Battle: Early Stages

In the Green Hills it was the year 14, and autumn harvest was underway. The rebels decided that the first step in drawing Berthold’s Army into their territory would be to deny the kingdom the foodstuffs from the plains of Endarr, just east of their encampment. In a series of lightning raids during October and November, their Dragoons and cavalry swooped down on the rich farms and pastures north of the Endyr River, securing winter provisions for themselves and leaving the area’s survivors in a desperate plight. Word was carried back to Cwyll and King Berthold did indeed ready an expeditionary force to drive the attackers from the kingdom once and for all.

Forces greater than Kings and pretenders were at work. The end of Yr. 14 marked the close of the ninth cycle of ages, and the magic had already begun to fluctuate. In fact the exact moment of the change occurred so closely in time to the New Year that even today historical and astrological accounts conflict on whether the date of demarcation should be recorded as Yr 14 or Yr. 15. (It should be noted that the Quentari, after considerable research. settled on Yr. 15 as the appropriate year, a date which seems to have been borne out by the end of the tenth cycle in April of Yr. 591.)Because of the transition in the cycle, and the instability that occurred before and after it, both sides experienced losses. As usual spell and ritual effects changed or were gone altogether. Several other such effects were later rediscovered in an altered form. The kingdom’s forces, although more powerful than those of the rebels, sustained the most damage, since they relied solely upon living troops, who now found themselves without many of their magical protections or weapons. Valdric’s forces had fewer of these resources to begin with but his control over his undead troops seemed to strengthen as new and more menacing types now being created.

During this period one of Valdric’s wizards, hoping to impede Berthold’s progress, and weaken the royal forces, had cast a ritual for summoning an ice elemental. Instead, a blizzard of horrific proportions instantly formed over the ritual circle. It swept away across the Green Hills and down the Endyr Valley as far as the capitol, making any sort of travel impossible throughout the entire Yuletide season. Enraged, Valdric spent days torturing the hapless mage before finally Obliterating him. There was, however, good news for the rebels during this time as well. Shortly after the blizzard had driven everyone to their caves and tents, Darriel’s twin sister, the Arch-mage, Margali Endarr reported to Valdric the emergence of a new battle magic spell. Lost in the previous cycle of the ages, it had been a manifestation of power previously available only as an innate ability of certain races and monsters, or as a ritual effect. It could shape-change its target for brief periods, and was capable of being cast by mages below the level of wizard. She called it Margali’s Eldritch Transformation, but it later also came to be known by its traditional name from earlier cycles, Polymorph.

Valdric, having just cast a Scry spell which had functioned with unnatural clarity, received a crystal clear picture of the interior of the Royal Tower of Magic at Cwyll. In this vision, he learned the identities of most of the king’s spellcasters and the whereabouts of their most powerful artifacts and magical items. With Margali’s new weapon, Valdric decided upon a daring strategy. He selected several of his most powerful spellcasters who were also strong in spirit. The Liche-Wizard had them spend days practicing the new spell, and fashioning likenesses of the forms of those whom Valdric had seen in his scrying. Finally satisfied with their competence, he killed them all, and raised them as undead, and they set out for Cwyll in the last weeks of January, Yr. 15. Whether it was a residual effect of the ritual flaw, or simply natural processes, the heavy snows continued. Travel was all but impossible for the living. Valdric and his party, although greatly slowed in their pace, had no need for food, sleep, or shelter. Ten days later they arrived at the outskirts of the royal capitol, and even Valdric himself stared in wonder at the grace and beauty of the Royal Tower of Magic, the creation of Ruta Hammerstone, one of the greatest of all dwarven stone shapers.

In the Royal Tower at Cwyll, Lord Lawrence and his colleagues had not been idle during this time. As aware as his enemy of the changes in the magic, the Royal Arch-Mage consulted at great length with his Quentari allies. Though they were adventurers only, and not in any way connected to the Royal Court of King Elenaro, their training at the legendary Elven Institute of Learning and Magic on Lake Helevorn brought to the Evendarrians a priceless advantage. This fact may have made the difference between victory and defeat for the fledgling kingdom. Their access to the great archives of millennia housed at Helevorn gave the elven wizards a far more extensive knowledge of the effects of the changes in the cycles of ages than existed in the newly civilized, human ruled lands.

The Quentari quickly cautioned the Lord Mage against assuming that any magical secrets short of the most artfully concealed artifacts and circles of power still existed in the New Kingdom. They instructed everyone to keep careful records of all spell and ritual casting attempts during the transition, particularly of any new magical backlashes or flaws encountered. They encouraged experimentation with various substances in the hopes that new formal magic components might be discovered. They urged Lord Lawrence and his mages to continue to cast Scry and Obfuscate spells until everyone had mastered the new forms. The Quentari advised their Evendarrian counterparts to cast two ritual circles about the tower and its environs. The first was a proscription against elementals, for those creatures were frequently attracted to those places where great stores of magic were focused. The second circle was a proscription against undead. These creatures were known to stir during any instability in the eldritch forces, often with new and perilous abilities for which no defense had yet been developed. Both rituals were successfully cast in late January. It was the casting of the latter of the two, which was to prove critical in the events that unfolded shortly after.

What follows is a fragment form the only surviving eye witness account of the battle for the tower, recovered in its ruined archives after the great explosion of the Yr. 32. It is presumed to be written by Raighanni Auster, Chief Archivist to the Lord Mage, and one of his closest associates.

"The night of Jan 30th was the dark-o-the-moon, and a light snow was falling. The Liche-Wizard and his minions had gathered in a small copse near unto the Great Tower, were they affected upon themselves the new shape changing magic as yet unknown to my Lord and our company within. By such arts, they fashioned likenesses of several members of our assembly. He took for his own form, the visage of our commander, Sir Aylward, the man to whom he once swore fealty. By this and other evils, which were carried out in the years since his oathbreaking, did Valdric Dorsette establish himself as the wickedest and most evil of mortals to walk upon this land.

Yet all of his subtle planning did not save Valdric from failing in his chief objective, which was to lead his band into the tower and oversee the slaughter which he so greatly desired. Although his lackeys might have been restored among the living, Valdric himself was snared by his own machinations, and could not pass through the magickal protections that forbade entry to his kind. Great was his wrath and confounding. He swore many oaths of vengeance that those who had stayed his purpose would be made to suffer his retribution at the end of their lives. The only means to destroy the great circle, which was proof against undead lay safely behind the eldritch force, and beyond his grasp, inside the great Tower of Cwyll.

Command was given to Valdric’s second, an Earth wizard who named herself Scorpia, and from whom much of this testament was later extracted. To her had fallen the task of seeing to the obliteration of Lord Lawrence Huntington, having taken his form as part of her orders. Valdric’s own duty had been the looting of the Tower treasury, and its archives, but this assignment must be delayed until all of those within were dead. The victors would then raise their prey as undead to be taken back to the hills and made to fight for the Liche-Wizard, and the pretenders to the throne of Evendarr.

The first part of their schema was carried out as the enemy had planned. Entry was gained through their disguise, and the gate guards were overcome. Their devising was thwarted soon afterwards for Valdric had made yet a second error. His scrying had failed to take into account the presence of our guard dogs. These were a Yuletide gift from the king. They used scent rather than sight to identify their friends. The alarum was raised as the great bell atop the tower began to clamor. Soon the capitol watch would attend to our relief. The attackers began to flee, pursued by such forces as we could muster. The air was filled with the crackle of magicks and the cries of the dying.

Valdric’s fury knew no bounds. In his true form he paced at the edge of the circle and shouted out a challenge to Lord Lawrence, who stepped forward to answer. Many of his friends and companions sought to dissuade their master. Lord Lawrence had taken grievous wounds and had eschewed healing in the face of greater need by others. Yet our Lord was undaunted, and spoke to those who would have him give over in to his archenemy.

"Non Me Prohibe!" cried the Lord Mage in the arcane tongue, "Do not forbid me!" and from that day forward, his words were embellished upon the battle arms of Huntington, by decree of the king.

Lord Lawrence stepped beyond the protection of the circle, and met his foe with such honor and courage as befits his noble line. Thrice did Valdric cry out the dreaded words, which brought the magic of obliteration against his foe. Thrice did Lord Lawrence employ his art to cloak himself against utter destruction. Each time the Mage stepped towards his archrival, and his hands glowed like the rising sun as he made ready his attack.

It was then that the Viscount’s guards arrived to relieve our beleaguered defense. With a howl of outrage, the evil liche uttered a strange incantation, and seemed to vanish. Not until some time had passed, and quite by happenstance, did one of the tower journeymen repeat Valdric’s words as he comforted the last survivor among our brave guard dogs. He astonished onlookers by shape changing into its twin. It was then that we understood that the foul one had employed a similar strategy to escape the king’s justice. From that day forward, the spell was ours, as well as Valdric’s.

We had suffered grievous losses, sadly placing a dozen of our number in their burial chambers or funeral pyres. These were mostly our guards, whose heroism will be commemorated by a memorial, which shall stand forever within the tower court. The greatest tragedy was the final death of our most valued Quentari Arch-Wizard, Larissa D’Quey, she whose wise counsel proved the difference in our defense, and whose friendship is now lost forever from these halls.

As to the enemy’s fate, we have guessed that half of their number will never resurrect and our captive has given us much intelligence. Soon it will be the moment to confront the liche and visit his destiny upon him and the puppets whose lead-strings lie in his malicious hands."

VII The Final Battle: SkySpawn

Of the dozen powerful wizards who left the Green Hills, only six escaped from the tower. Of these, two deliberately took their own lives and resurrected elsewhere. Valdric relieved the rage and humiliation of his defeat by leaving a trail of emptiness in his wake as his band murdered every living mortal that they encountered, adults and children alike, and raised them as his undead slaves. The sortie had not been a complete failure. His servants had managed to seize a large number of magic items, several ritual scrolls, and a large number of components. They would be put to use in preparation for the spring campaign. He set his minions to work, and he himself began a frenzied effort to create even more fearful undead. By the time he engaged the royal army of Evendarr, the combined forces of Darriel, Regweld and Soledra together with Valdric’s legions would nearly equal the numbers fielded by the king.

At the Royal Tower of Magic, morale was at its lowest ebb. Even as the Evendarrians were still mourning their losses, they had to bid farewell to their elven colleagues, who insisted upon returning their fallen comrade to her homeland and family. Refusing any escort despite the generous offers by Viscount Aylward, and by King Berthold himself, they departed alone, bearing Larissa’s body on a litter. Shortly afterward they disappeared from view, both physical and magickal.

A month went by during which scry spells were being cast constantly. The information that was revealed thereby made even the stoutest hearts quail with trepidation for what would come with the melting snows. At the beginning of March, a grim Council of Royal Advisors took place in the most heavily protected chamber in the tower. It was only then; combining the information gleaned magically with that gathered by spies, that everyone realized how great Valdric’s forces had become. Worse, the coming battle must not only be fought to the death of Valdric and the pretenders, or of the kingdom itself, but it must be fought on terms dictated by the liche. Such a horde of undead would spell disaster if it were to fall upon the heart of the realm.

Grimly, each of the leaders departed to begin preparations for the long westward march. Lord Lawrence was feeling every moment of his fifty years as he slowly made his way to the upper reaches of the tower, and stood overlooking the city that he loved, sleeping and unaware of its great peril. Not a cloud could be seen in the moonlit sky. Only when its brightness began to outshine the waxing moon did the Arch-Mage notice that something was floating toward the tower at a fair pace. Fascinated, he forgot to sound the alarum bell until it was nearly upon him. Even as he was reaching for the pull rope, the brightness collided with the circle of proscription and somewhat clumsily set itself upon the ground and dissipated. To Lord Lawrence’s astonishment, half a dozen figures were striding through the circle. One looked up at him and waved in greeting. The Quentari wizards had returned.

Lord Lawrence himself rousted out the entire assembly to welcome their colleagues, and an impromptu feast was held as the visitors were inundated until daybreak with questions about their journey, and the sensation of travelling astride and air elemental. The Arch-Mage declared the day a holiday for his staff, but not for himself, or his guests. After a brief rest they assembled with the senior wizards to give their news. The Quentari had brought additional companions, including a young elf named Entarios, the son of Larissa D’Quey, who had come at his mother’s request to finish the work she had begun. Puzzled, the lord asked how he could have spoken with her, and was told of the last use during the tenth cycle of ages of the ritual called, Spirit Farewell. This ritual remained unrediscovered until only a few years ago. Lord Lawrence apprised his guests of the peril they faced, and their confirmation of his evaluation of the situation in the Green Hills gave him no relief. Never the less, he told them, he was grateful for their continued loyalty. Perhaps together they could make a difference.

It was then that Gildor Gelion the Healer-Wizard presented the Arch-Mage with a bejeweled chest bearing the seal of the elven king himself. Lord Lawrence’s friends had taken their case to the court at Din-Oth, and to everyone’s astonishment, King Elenaro had bestowed upon the Royal Tower a rare and precious gift, a scroll containing a powerful ritual which enabled the caster to Contact Other Planes. A message from the King bore his greetings with the assessment that Valdric’s army was as great a threat to Quentari as to Evendarr. If the Liche should prevail, Quentari, still recovering from the Dagorim Gurthrauko, or Dark Wars, and beleaguered by increasing elemental activity, would face peril on yet another front. Its resources were stained to their limits, and only fools fail to support friends in time of need, the royal message concluded. The team of wizards set to work.

The tower staff soon realized what the Quentari casters had noted at the outset. This ritual, along with its counterpart Contact Earth, was much too powerful to be used by any but the most adept, and then only under the most carefully controlled supervision. Several copies were made for security, for even a flawless casting did not guarantee that the scroll or the caster would survive coming into contact with whatever intelligence responded from across the planes. Despite several accidents and one or two minor disasters, the tower was able to determine the course of action that must be taken.

Preparations continued until the royal forces departed from Cwyll in mid-April, just as soon as the roads became passable. It took five days for all of the units to arrive, and the army to deploy as best it could. There was little movement from the enemy. It seemed Valdric could afford to be patient. All was in readiness on the evening of the 23rd day of April, in the sixteenth year of the realm of Evendarr. The final battle would begin at dawn on the 24th.

The Liche-Wizard’s failure to strike quickly was his final and fatal error. Deep in the darkness of the aether that surrounds Tyrra, a celestial body was travelling on a journey of unknown length and destination. Had the proper question not been asked of the entity which had spoken through the Ritual of Contact, it would have passed across the skies of Tyrra, unknown and unseen, and disappeared into the vastness that separates our world from the other occupants of the heavens. Great magicks had changed its destiny. Already, beings had been summoned to alter the thing’s path. It was small in size, but powerful for all that. Most important, it would accomplish the task set for it by those who guided it without causing harm to any save its intended targets. The royal wizards had learned quickly and well: even the Quentari had been impressed at the expertise shown by their Evendarrian counterparts, human and non-human alike.

The only need now was to await the proper moment: an alignment of Celestial bodies which would ensure success. The army must hold the field until the third hour after midday, the moment of the full moon, when balanced by its companion, the sun, and the two cradled mars in their opposition. The fullness of Light and Life would guide fire and sword in a rain of celestial death upon the enemy. King Berthold’ s forces must hold the field during those long hours until the summoning could be completed. The king assigned his own personal guard regiment to secure the wizard’s position as the battle was joined. The remainder of the royal forces engaged the army of the pretenders. Twelve thousand living soldiers of Evendarr against six thousand for Valdric, as one of the bloodiest battles in the kingdom’s history raged across the hills. Soon not a single blade of grass survived amid the crush of warriors, spellcasters, and mounts. Ballistas and catapults sang their songs of death. By midday it seemed as though the royal troops might win the battle without the intervention of the royal wizards.

Suddenly, a great cloud of darkness spread across the battlefield as Valdric’s casters prepared the way for his final onslaught. The stench of ten thousand rotting corpses burst into the blinded faces of King Berthold’s soldiery. Troops and mounts alike fell to the ground, sickened. A howl from the deepest pits of anguish sent terror through friend and foe alike. Valdric no longer cared how his own living forces fared. His undead hordes would win the final victory, and the casters among them, living or not, would raise the fallen into his ranks as well. He could not lose.

The only relief from the undead attack came from the occasional lifting of the veil of darkness as the caster who held that spell was killed. The brightness would cause every corpse that it touched to dissipate, shrieking in agony. By now, the order of battle had been lost, and the clamor was so great that signal calls were useless. The armies of Evendarr were being routed, and only the most disciplined were holding ranks as they fell back. Now all that could be heard was a constant roar that seemed to be growing louder with each moment. Many thought that the liche had held yet more terrible creatures in reserve.

King Berthold and his commanders had anticipated much of Valdric’s battle plan, but the confusion was so great that there was barely time to pull the bulk of the royal forces behind a series of sheltering hills. The final magic had been cast, and there was no force left on the world that could stop it. The wizards of Evendarr could only hope that the retreat had been in time. They fled to their sheltering trenches and waited for the final strike.

No one, not even the most seasoned Quentari spellcaster had anticipated the noise. The roar became a cacophony that became a scream so intense that horses died standing in place. There were many whose only injury was a complete loss of hearing. The darkness was shattered by a light so intense that hundreds who had not been deafened were blinded. Afterwards, when healing restored them, to the end of their days, they could only speak of the battle with reference to the horror of their last vision before sight failed them, the images of masses of undead collapsing as their bodies were incinerated by the amazing light and heat.

In the skies above the Green Hills, the meteor exploded in a fireball that was seen as far away as Cwyll to the east and Din-Oth to the west. Molten rock poured down upon the armies of Valdric and the pretenders. Huge hunks of stone buried themselves in the ground, which bubbled and burst into flame as the land consumed itself. Nothing could escape the shower of death. The battlefield fell silent, transformed to a smoldering ruin. Not even the bodies of those who had suffered their final deaths survived. Awestruck, the wizards of Evendarr stood beside their Quentari allies, and looked, speechless, upon what they had wrought that day.

VII Aftermath

In the end, the royal army had taken far fewer losses than the catastrophe that ended the battle might have indicated. For the most part the retreat had been successful and total losses among the living were less than a quarter of its total troop strength. Ironically, many of Valdric’s lesser undead were successfully resurrected by surprised earth casters all over the kingdom, as they were finally released from long years of bondage to return to families and friends who had long since lost hope for their return. It seemed that these were the first to dissipate in the moments before the fireball struck, as their masters lost control over them.

No trace was ever found of the rebel leaders, and no rumor ever manifested that they had escaped the wrath of the royal Arch mage and his brave company. All traces of opposition collapsed in the wake of the battle, and more than a century passed before civil insurrection again posed a threat to the Royal House of Endarr. Shortly afterward, a caravan of gifts from a grateful king wound its way to Din-Oth, accompanied by the Quentari wizards who had helped to secure a new and stable realm to guard the eastern flanks of the ancient elven realm. Offered titles and positions of power in Evendarr, the Quentari declined. They cited the growing threat of elemental activity in their homeland as the reason that they must return, although friendships remained.

All of the elven wizards departed save one. Entarios D’Quey stayed behind after he was recognized to a wood elven bard. They remained in service to the crown, and a century later joined the staff of the new Royal Academy on the island of Janitria, where he remained until his final death in 366.

Lord Lawrence continued in his position as Court Mage of Evendarr until Yr. 32 when he, together with many other heroes of that fight for the realm were obliterated in the terrible explosion that destroyed the Tower of Cwyll. No cause was ever discovered for the accident, despite many investigations and magical searches over the intervening centuries. Other heroes were lost in the great battle as well. Three full regiments of the King’s Own, The sovereign’s personal guard were lost in that battle. The greatest tragedy was the presumed obliteration of Dame Winifred Bartholemew, Knight Commander of the Royal Army. She was last seen riding to the rescue of a company surrounded by Valdric’s worst cohorts. Her body was never found.

The monuments to the battle still stand upon the hills and in Cwyll where the fallen heroes are honored to this day. Although they have recovered their fertile meadows and gentle slopes, the Green Hills are known, now, and for as long as the kingdom stands, by the great firestorm that marked them with celestial power on that awful day. Both the battle and the hills are called, "The Fire Downs." The date is forever fixed in the annals of Evendarr: the 24th day of April, Yr 15, the first year of the tenth cycle of ages.

people have visited since 22, August 598.