Arcanoria Back Story and Setting

The Age of Myth: Shrouded Pasts

Many ages ago, there was a time of surpassing technology when all the many countries of the world thought only of themselves and their own greed for power and prestige in the world community. Very little is known of this time, since most of the historical records have long since been lost or obliterated. By and large it was a peaceful world, but it was given to fits of upheaval, oppression, and barbarism, as one or more of the countries decided to increase their borders or force their way on a weaker neighbor.

So it was for hundreds of years, until technological prowess reached the point where it became possible to lay waste to whole countries in an instant. And, much to the dismay of the world, this began to happen. This was a truly dangerous and deadly time of growing chaos and anarchy, where one man's life was often ruled by another man's whims.

In the midst of all this there was one small country that quietly pursued a different path from the others. This country was named Arcanoria. The Arcanorians were led by a group of philosophers and philanthropists who had developed advanced mental and psychic powers through inspired study and diligent practice and faith. In a technology driven world, the power that the Arcanorians discovered within themselves could only be described as Magic.

In the end, the inevitable happened. Coalitions of the powerful eliminated the rest, and eventually each other as well. All except the Arcanorians, who had created an Artifact of unimaginable power: the Crystal of Eschatos. This incredible magical repository acted as a focal point and distribution center for the powers of the ten most advanced Archmagi of the Conclavus, Arcanoria's ruling council. Indeed, the Crystal became so powerful that it began to draw and reinforce power from the very earth around it, and provided light and protection to the lands of Arcanoria while the other countries were swept away by their own lust for power.

As countries and factions fell, the Arcanorians rose. They created a new world government which was based on the hiding of technology and magic from the unenlightened masses, for their own good. They were not corrupt, even with so much power. They knew full well that the power to destroy all was not much more than a thought away. They became the Guardians of the Power, and ruled the lands as benevolent dictators, but ones who kept and administered their secrets, for the benefit of all.

Before long, everyone laid down their weapons of destruction before the awesome power of the Arcanorians.

The Age of Legend: The Golden Age of Arcanoria

Arcanoria was the mightiest civilization the world had ever seen. A culture of magic and science that blended the two seamlessly. The ever-present enemies of mortals: famine, pestilence and plague were all but defeated by meta-technological advances. In this great land, the impossible became possible. Even war, always beckoning, was cast aside, for no other nations could stand against the might of Arcanoria. It became an era of peace, prosperity and enlightenment.

The Arcanorians provided for all, giving food and shelter to the needy, and providing magical assistance to farmers to help their crops grow better and even manage the weather. They removed the poisons and radiation from the air, and made the world a wonderful place to live. People were free to study and pursue self-betterment. War and disease were abolished.

Yet one enemy of mankind remained, one enemy that could not be so easily defeated. No matter how great their meta-technology, no matter how powerful the spells of their greatest wizards and arch-magi, the power to escape death eluded them. Even if one so powerful were able to prolong their life, one day they too would take that final journey into the unknown. This was a bleak thought for those who had achieved so much.

To one powerful arch-mage in particular, the thought of his mortality was like venom in his veins. Azerius Canum was everything an Arcanorian would ever want to be. One of the most accomplished and powerful mages of his era, he came from a well-respected noble family. He rose quickly in societal ranks and was the youngest to ever be appointed to the Conclavus, the ruling body within the magiarchy of Arcanoria. His merits and achievements outweighed those of his peers and challenged the accomplishments of those many years his elder. Yet despite everything he had done, despite everything he possessed, one truth gnawed at his soul: one day he would grow old, lose his power and then die. To one of his status, it was a malignancy he could not escape.

Resolved he would find a way to do what so many before him had tried and failed, Azerius shut himself away from the world to research and experiment. Several years went by before he emerged from his spire that was located in the heart of Arcanoria, confident he had found the answer to the greatest riddle of all. It all had to do with reversing the flow of Arcanor, the power that made magic possible and existed in every living thing. To do such, he would need a source of great power and help from other mages. He brought his findings before the Conclavus and petitioned for their support and help.

He was ridiculed and humiliated for his efforts. The elder arch-mages thought his quest a fool's errand, and a dangerous one at that. To reverse the flow of magic would take a tremendous source of power, if such a thing could even be done. They denied his petition and advised him to give up his foolishness and concentrate on his duties, which he had long neglected. Without saying a word, Azerius turned and left. His last glance was all he needed to communicate his feelings. The Conclavus were conservative fools more interested in maintaining their status quo than accomplishing great feats.

The Fall of Arcanoria

Azerius knew what it would take to accomplish his goal and gain power over death. Deep within the bowels of the capital city lay the Crystal of Eschatos. It was a giant rock of pure Arcanorium, the physical manifestation of Arcanor and the single most powerful magic source in the world. The meta-magi, with their magic and science used the Crystal of Eschatos to provide power throughout the realm of Arcanoria.

Azerius went into seclusion again, this time to prepare. He found like-minded supporters who greedily wanted the eternal life he could offer. With their help, Azerius created the ritual that would allow him to channel the power from the Crystal of Eschatos and reverse the flow of Arcanor. All was going according to plan and within two years he was ready to begin his grand experiment.

Pride is always greatest right before the fall. In this case, this was especially true. Azerius and his Cabal overcame the guardians of the Crystal of Eschatos and began their ritual. For all their vaunted skill and power, they were not prepared for the results of their actions. Azerius did reverse the flow and tap into a new magic, one that manipulated death and undeath, however he was not prepared for infusion of dark magic that now pervaded every pore of his being. Within an instant, his soul and the souls of his fellow transgressors were obliterated and the essence of their beings changed forever. In that instant, the magic of Necromancy was born.

It took several millennia for the Empire of Arcanoria to become the height of man's civilization, to become the shining beacon of the accomplishments and realization of man's potential. It took one night for Arcanoria to become the disaster of man's failure and realization of man's hubris. The Crystal of Eschatos was not polarized to handle the different amplification of necromancy and exploded. The release of power not only destroyed almost all of the city, but also other Arcanorian cities that were a part of the Arcanor grid that relied on the Crystal of Eschatos for power. Those that died in the initial blast were the lucky ones, for those that lived found themselves changing as the dark magic of necromancy assaulted their bodies and souls.

And thus the Golden Age of Arcanoria ended violently and the Age of Mortus was born, heralding the rise of the Dread Lords.

The Age of Mortus

A wave of dark magic swept across the lands. Countless thousands were killed in the initial explosion of the Crystal of Eschatos, but only days afterwards it was clear they were the fortunate ones. Forests and fields were stripped bare by the blast, and food became quickly scarce. Used to an easier way of life, many of the Arcanorians who survived did not last long. Plague assailed their bodies while necromancy assaulted their very being. Chaos and disorder ruled the day. But the true horror was still to come.

The first full moon after the "Breaking" of the crystal shone down on a land that was saturated with necromantic magic. The light of that first moon was a siren's song to a land filled with the dead. Corpses rose from their eternal slumber, looking for everything the living had that they did not...life. Even the Elven Kingdom of Talaendor, spared from the destruction of Arcanoria, found its forests filled with creatures of the night. None of the other races, the ancient saurial lizardfolk, the industrious gnomes nor the barbaric norsemen were spared the trepidations of the walking dead. The nightmare that was once Arcanoria threatened all life. And it was only to become worse.

The dead walked the land, but for the most part they were mindless and acting on instinct alone. Once the survivors became organized, they found they could overcome the innate fear these creatures caused and drive them away. The Elven Kingdom of Talaendor quickly destroyed the invaders of their forest and closed their borders, warning all away. Large numbers of the walking dead still roamed the countryside, but for the first time since the blast, the survivors of the holocaust felt hope. Then came the Dread Lords.

Azerius Canum and his coterie performed the ritual that sundered the Crystal of Eschatos and destroyed the greatest civilization the world had seen. The crystal unleashed a backlash of dark magics that pervaded the lands, and the epicenter of the blast was Azerius and his minions. Necromancy stripped their souls and changed the essence of who they were, but it did not destroy them. Instead, each of the thirteen involved in the ritual changed into a new, dark being. Vicerius, the 2nd most accomplished mage in Azerius's coterie, felt a thirst worst than any desire for power he had ever experienced and his teeth grew into fangs. Shasera, a half-elf female of extreme beauty and lover of Azerius, grew wispy and ethereal. She screamed a keen that was death. For each of the thirteen, it was the same. Each one died and rose again into a powerful undead lord.

Azerius, the most powerful, changed into the most terrifying new form of undead. His eyes glowed with a deep purple light, and his skin became dark and tainted. The necromancy saturated his essence, and he found himself a cold, dead creature whose purpose was to feed off the life energy of the living. Azerius-Fel, the liche lord was born, and Azerius Canum, the talented, misguided seeker of the mysteries of magic that was driven by his need to end the power of death was gone forever. Ironically, he became a living incarnation of death, causing woe with every step of his now skeletal being.

The survivors had no chance. The Dread lords were all-powerful, and exhibited an innate control over the walking dead. Every settlement that had survived and started to rebuild was overcome. Azerius-Fel destroyed any resistance against his rule. The only places of relative safety were the mountains and the Forest Kingdom of Talaendor, for the inherent nature of the living forest combined with the elven defenses made it deadly for undead to tread there. Not ready to fight that battle yet, the Dread Lords carved up the former kingdom of Arcanoria amongst themselves, each given a territory to rule. The humans that survived found themselves subjugated to their undead masters. Justice, equality and truth became forgotten words in an enslaved land. Survival was the name of the game in a realm where life was tentative and always uncertain.

The Splintering of the Elves

The former kingdom of Arcanoria was now under the sway of the Dread Lords, and the other races knew it would only be a matter of time before their attention was turned towards them. In the Elven Kingdom of Talaendor, there was a raging debate concerning the best course of action. The elves were always known as diplomatic, however the Dread Lords were not such that could be bargained or negotiated with. The spirit of their great forest protected the elves, however the dark magic of necromancy was already tainting the outer reaches of their kingdom. One faction of elves believed that the only way to survive was retreat further in the depths of their refuge. Another believed a strong defense was necessary, with the elven nation fighting for every inch of their homeland. Yet another course of action, and least popular was lead by the King Allondal's son, Prince Nefar Allondal. He believed that the new dark magic of necromancy could be used against the Dread Lords and could control the countless undead that clambered at their borders. This notion was rejected, and even abhorred by many, simply because using the magic that had caused so much woe was unthinkable. Some, however, took the prince's side and as the Dread Lords increased their activity against the elves, his opinion was no so easily set aside. Bitter debate raged, and Prince Nefar was astounded that so many elves did not view his opinion, believing it outside the elven way of life. With a dark and heavy heart, the Prince decided to leave the ancient elven homeland. He did not leave alone as many whom had come to his way of thinking left with him. It was a sad day in Talaendor and it was said even the great tree, Yyrdgrassil wept at the broken harmony between the elves, something that had never happened before.

The Mortality of the Dread Lords

Prince Nefar did not leave his ancient homeland without a plan. In the years after the death of Arcanoria and the rise of power of the Dread Lords, he had secretly experimented with necromancy and taught his followers his knowledge. He knew that the Dread Lords might be susceptible to the power that gave them their own power. After researching and investigating the different Dread Lords, he choose his target. In an ancient fortress built within Mt. Jarin dwelled the Skeletal Lord, Hezekiel. It was said the battle lasted for an entire month, but when it was done, Nefar and those who survived were the victors and Hezekiel was no more. The "dark" elves quickly established a new home within the mountain itself, and further excavated their new homeland. Prince Nefar was proven right; the Dread Lords could be killed with their own power of necromancy.

Subjugation

The power of the Dread Lords was complete. A deathly pall hung over the lands that once belonged to great civilization of Arcanoria. The remnants of the former citizens settled into villages and hamlets, living their lives in fealty to the dark powers that had overtaken their land. Generations were born and died under the heel of their undead masters. Homage and yearly tributes of their own people became customary. It behooved the Dread Lords to keep their subjects ignorant and uneducated so they were easier to control. Edicts were passed and any items and books from lost Arcanoria were either destroyed or confiscated.

The other races were better off, but not by much. The elves stayed to their great forest in a state of constant defense, for the armies of the Dread Lords stayed on their borders, ready to strike. Prince Nefar and his followers declared themselves neutral in the conflicts and after some time, made allies amongst the Dread Lords. Prince Nefar himself was rarely seen even by his own people, and it was whispered his battle with Hezekiel had forced a change upon him. The Gnomes of Gnoma Terra secluded themselves in their homeland and were left alone by the Dread Lords, deemed not worth the effort. The nomadic lizardfolk were constantly on the move, for their philosophies were a danger to the Dread Lords rule and a death warrant existed for any lizardfolk found.

The world slumbered in a state of undeath. Time passed...

Sanctum

It is impossible for darkness to fully banish the light, especially from those whose souls thirst for it. Hope always finds a way. The descendents of Arcanoria may have been enslaved and subjugated by the truest form of evil, but some, from time to time, managed to escape their overlords. It was whispered, amongst those whose minds were not completely under the sway of the Dread Lords, of a place where one could be free from darkness. This place was called Sanctum, and it was the last refuge of mankind. The Dread Lords kept tight control over their subjects, but every so often some would make the perilous journey into the Illisti Mountains and search for a new home. Many perished on their journey of freedom, either by hunted down by the servants of the Dread Lords or to the dangers of the wilderness. Some would make it and keep hope alive for all. Sanctum grew, not only as a city, but also as a legend amongst those who would be free. The populace of Sanctum swelled and many argued that there was no true freedom as long as the Dread Lords stayed in control. After a period of time, Sanctum raised an army, bent on retaking the lands back from the darkness. The army set off in the early morning hours, never to return. No matter how well intentioned, no matter how righteous their cause, the "soldiers" of Sanctum were ill equipped and ill trained, and as a result they were crushed by the vastly superior forces of the Dread Lords. It was a bitter lesson, but the leaders of Sanctum learned it: The Dread Lords could not be defeated by strength of force; they were too powerful. It was a lesson the Elves of Talaendor already knew.

Prophecy

Some years after the debacle of attacking the Dread Lords, Sanctum was visited by a group of wandering lizardfolk. Knowing their mostly peaceful ways, the Council that ruled Sanctum invited the saurial lizardfolk as guests. The leader of the lizardfolk was named Gra'teq, and he was seemingly ancient, yet powerful in his own way. Gra'Teq addressed the entire city of Sanctum during a ceremony of welcoming, and his voice resonated throughout the entire city so all could hear his words. He told of an ancient prophecy, from a time when the world was young. He told of how the darkness that encompassed the land was foretold by lizardfolk seers of bygone days and the fall of the great civilization of Arcanoria. He told how darkness would hold sway, till one borne within the darkness would rise and cast off the yoke of oppression. He told of how there would be signs, and the one foretold would unite all to fight the darkness. He told of how they must look for the signs, and be ready to help and support the one. As he gave his last, powerful words, Gra'Teq collapsed on the dias from which he spoke and died.

The Woe Lands

Within the lands under the Dread Lords sway all was not quiet. The Dread Lords were terrible and hateful creatures who constantly schemed and plotted against each other because of their unquenchable thirst for power. Wars were often fought, but due to the power of the individual Dread Lords, the outcomes were rarely if ever decisive. They also tested the defenses of the Elven Kingdom of Talaendor from time to time, but the magic of the ancient forest continued to protect the elven people. After time, the territory under the sway of the Dread Lords became known as the Woe Lands, for obvious reasons.

One such war, between the Dread Lord Razoon and the Dread Lady Aellena, resulted in the annihilation of the small village of Whelmshire. Aellena was surveying the destroyed remnants of the village under her protection when she heard muffled wailing. Her servants searched through the rubble and found a male baby under the rubble of a ruined house. The undead enchantress, in a very uncharacteristic act, decided to take and raise the child. Why she did this is not known, for there is no love in the heart of one of the Dreads. Maybe she was curious, or maybe there was a small, maternal instinct still alive within her somewhere. Whatever the reason, the world would be a different place if not for her act.

Aellena raised the child as her son and heir to her realm. There is some conjecture that one day she meant to step down from her throne and leave everything to him. Other conjecture is that she meant to conquer her neighboring Dread Lords and set him up as ruler over those lands. Whatever her intent, it meant that she had him trained and skilled in all manner of the arts of war. By age 17, Telrosh, son of the Dread Lady Aellena had no match in combat, even amongst the undead warriors that made up Aellena's forces. He was as mighty as he was loyal to his "mother". It was said she plucked out his heart while he was still a child, for he had no empathy towards his own people that were enslaved by her. Many times he led forays to gather those selected for his mother's "feedings".

This all changed the day he truly lost his heart, to a peasant girl named Illiana. He was riding through the countryside of his mother's domain, when he spotted her dancing to a tune only she could hear by the riverbank. He felt something he had never felt before, a yearning not only of his heart but also of his soul. She was the most beautiful female he had ever seen, different in every way from the female who dominated his life, his mother. He stayed hidden and followed her, continuing to watch her go through the motions of her day. When darkness fell and she went inside her home, as all smart humans did once the sun went down, he stayed outside her house in the hope of catching glimpses of her through her windows.

He went back to Castle Direholme and attempted to focus on his duties, but his heart had been smitten. Day after day he went back to the spot he first saw her, always watching her from hidden vantages. One day he finally gathered his courage and approached her. At first she was frightened, for it was obvious who he was even to a peasant girl like her. Who had not heard of the famous mortal progeny of the Dread Enchantress? Her fear acquiesced after time, and soon they became friends...and more. Every day he was able he came to visit her in secret, and on one of these occasions he made his love for her known by giving her a necklace of his mother's.

His love for Illiana opened his eyes to the suffering of his own race at the hands of his mother and her ilk. He saw himself through her eyes, and he knew shame for the first time in his life. The mortals of his mother's realm were treated like cattle, to be fattened and fed upon. They had no rights and lived at his mother's whim. Telrosh confronted his mother with these newfound thoughts and feelings. She knew for some time there was something different about him, it was obvious to all. She dismissed his anger and the next day had him followed, as he went to visit Illiana. She found the truth of his actions and a terrible anger grew within her. She sent Telrosh on a "mission" to the far reaches of her kingdom and when he returned several days later, his mother had a surprise for him. The girl he fallen in love with, his Illiana, was turned by his mother into one of the undead. The spark of her soul was extinguished forever. He lost his reason and attacked Aellena in a rage unlike anything he had ever known. For all his prowess, he was no match for a Dread Lord, and she defeated him with ease. She shattered his limbs and feasted on his life force, leaving just enough to make him aware of who he was but unable to do little else. She had her undead take him to the edge of her kingdom and throw him across her borders, leaving him a crippled husk.

Rebirth

This tale would end if not for the lizardfolk, on their everlasting journey, finding him. They took him with them and began the healing process. Telrosh was a shattered being, but slowly they coaxed the life to return within him. They took him to the Elven Kingdom of Talaendor and with their help, fixed his crippled limbs. With the renewing spirit of the forest, they brought him back from the brink of despair and death. It took several years, but one day, while being surrounded by elven children playing a game, he smiled once again.

Telrosh was healed finally, in mind and in body, but in his heart a deep, seething hatred for the Dread Lords and their minions took root and grew. Through Illiana's eyes he had seen the suffering of his people, and by his adopted mother's own hand he had seen the evil they propagated. He had an inner working knowledge of how the Dread Lords thought and worked, but he knew it would not be enough. His mother showed him just how powerful she was and how weak he was in comparison. If he was to overthrow their undead masters and free his people, he needed help.

It was an elvish scholar named Qualen that provided him the answer to his dilemma. Qualen's historical speciality was the long dead civilization of Arcanoria, and he had formed several radical opinions based on his knowledge. Qualen knew the answer to defeating the Dread Lords lay not just in well-trained armies and force of strength. The Dread Lords were immortal foes, and seemingly unkillable. In all the time that had passed since the fall of Arcanoria, only one Dread Lord, Hezekiel, had been killed and that was by Prince Nefar of the "Dark" elves. Qualen knew the answer lay within the ancient capitol city of Arcanoria itself, in the heart of the Woe Lands. Most of the city was destroyed and even the Dread Lords stayed away from it, for at its core lay a malignancy that could overwhelm even them. Qualen shared his findings with Telrosh, and the two of them made plans to visit this heart of darkness. They were joined by a gnome named Relkar, an elven archer named Avia and one of the lizardfolk who had saved Telrosh, Bak'qur. Together the companions set off to discover the mystery of the ancient and dead empire of Arcanoria.

Prophecy Revealed

The journey of the Five has been immortalized by countless minstrels, so we will not do so here. It is enough to say that they faced unspeakable horrors in that place of death. When finally they broke free from the evil that assailed them and fled that ancient land, Telrosh was armed with a blade of pure Arcanorium, a shard of the fabled Crystal of Eschatos itself. With his new blade, which he named Dreadbane, he traveled from land to land, rallying those who would fight against the tyranny and evil of the Dread Lords. When he laid eyes for the first time on the last free human city, Sanctum, his army was already massive and made up of elves, lizardfolk, gnomes and savage norsemen from the northern barbarian tribes. It took no time at all to convince the Council of Sanctum he was the savior of mankind from the lizardfolk prophecies. With his army of thousands, he began his conquest to retake the lands back from the Dread Lords. The Fall of the Dread Lords

The Dread Lords were not going to go quietly in the night. After Telrosh's forces ransacked the lands of Dread Lord Wikeros and Telrosh destroyed the mighty undead with Dreadbane, the other Dread Lords organized for the first time since ancient Arcanoria under the banner of Azerius-Fel, the Liche Lord himself. In a titanic battle at the city of Vallendahl, Telrosh faced Azerius-Fel and his nightmarish power. Only Dreadbane kept Telrosh alive against the mightiest Sorcerer of countless ages. His forces being destroyed, Telrosh fought his way to Azerius-Fel and with Dreadbane, struck the liche lord down in an epic battle between the mightiest beings of their age. Telrosh was also mortally wounded by the liche's arcane might. Seeing Azerius-Fel destroyed, the Dread Lords who had not been destroyed fled the battle. The battle was over and the coalition of those who fought the Dread Lords was victorious. The victory was bittersweet, however, for their beloved leader was slain.

The Rise of a New Nation

The domination of the Dread Lords was broken. Lands held under the sway of darkness were freed, and Telrosh's lieutenants led the battles against the remainder of the Dread Lord's forces. Those Dread Lords that had survived the purging retreated farther and farther into the Woe lands, where most of them stay to this day, plotting and scheming to one day return. The survivors of the great battle of Vallendahl took the city as their new capitol and the freed lands of the Dread Lords became parceled out to the heroes of the Great War as reward. The Kingdom of Illiana was born, and the Kings of Illiana to this day wear the Great Sword of Telrosh, Dreadbane, at their side, remaining vigilant for the day the Dread Lords would come to reclaim what was once theirs.