The War of the Five Kings
The War of the Five Kings
This section discusses the War of The Five Kings through different views, each section reflects the perspective of each of the kingdom's scholars.
Solandris’ Vision of Dominion
As recorded by Lord Arthen Vellion, Royal Chronicler of King Eryndor IV of Solandris
The Dawn of Expansion
For centuries, Solandris stood as the heart of civilization, its fertile lands and bustling trade routes a beacon of progress. Yet, our kingdom’s destiny was not to remain confined within its current borders. Under the rule of King Eryndor IV, the Crown of Solandris sought to bring order to the chaotic lands of Veloria. It was not ambition, but duty, that spurred the expansion of our dominion.
The lands to the east, though untamed and perilous, offered the promise of prosperity. Rich forests, fertile fields, and rivers teeming with life—all of these could be harnessed to benefit the people of Solandris. Yet, these lands were claimed by Eldoria, a realm more concerned with preserving ancient groves than cultivating the future.
When settlers began clearing the edges of the Eldorian forest, it was not an act of aggression but of necessity. Our people required wood for their homes, fields for their crops, and space to grow. Surely, the elves would understand.
The First Skirmish
Their response, however, was as swift as it was violent. An elven patrol ambushed a group of settlers in the Whispering Pines, killing several and torching the camp. News of this atrocity reached the court of Solandris, and King Eryndor had no choice but to act.
Sir Alaric of Solandris, a knight of great renown, was dispatched to protect the settlers and restore peace to the borderlands. His victory over the elven rangers was decisive, but it came at great cost. The woods burned, and blood stained the soil—an unfortunate but necessary sacrifice for the greater good. The elves called it desecration. We called it progress.
The Gathering Storm
Despite this victory, it became clear that Eldoria would not relinquish their claim so easily. The Crown sent envoys to negotiate peace, but the elves’ arrogance knew no bounds. They refused our offers, clinging to their outdated traditions.
Meanwhile, whispers reached the court of other kingdoms stirring in response to our expansion. The dwarves of Durgrim, once steadfast allies, grew restless, and rumors of orcish warbands massing in Golthar reached our ears.
Still, King Eryndor remained resolute. “Veloria must be united,” he declared, “for only under one banner can we achieve greatness.” Solandris would bring civilization to these lands, whether through diplomacy or through steel.
A Just Cause
To those who condemn our actions, let history remember this: we did not seek war, but neither did we shy away from it. Solandris bore the burden of leadership, shouldering the responsibility of guiding Veloria into a new era.
The elves’ stubbornness, the dwarves’ greed, and the orcs’ savagery—they were the barriers to progress, not Solandris. If they could not see the wisdom of our vision, then we would show them through strength.
This was not conquest. It was destiny.
End of Chapter.
Eldoria’s Sacred Duty
As recounted by Sylanna Aeravel, High Chronicler of the Eldorian Council
A Violation of Balance
The humans of Solandris have always been short-sighted, consumed by their endless need to expand, conquer, and consume. They see the land as nothing more than a resource to exploit, blind to the delicate balance that sustains us all.
When their settlers first began encroaching upon the Whispering Pines, we watched with growing unease. They felled ancient trees that had stood for millennia, uprooting the homes of countless creatures and disturbing the magic woven into the forest’s heart. These settlers claimed they needed space, but at what cost?
The Eldorian Council sent emissaries to their court, seeking to preserve peace. We offered them knowledge of sustainable practices, guidance to cultivate their own lands without harming ours. Their king’s response was dismissive. They saw our wisdom as weakness and our forests as spoils to be claimed.
The Burning of Whispering Pines
When the settlers began their defilement of the eastern woods, we had no choice but to act. The Wardens of Eldoria, guardians of the forest, were dispatched to protect our sacred groves.
What followed was not a battle, but a tragedy. Though we drove the humans away, they returned with blades and fire, led by their so-called knight, Sir Alaric. The Wardens fought bravely, but the flames spread faster than we could extinguish them.
When the smoke cleared, the Whispering Pines were no more. A place of beauty and magic, lost to greed and recklessness. The humans called this "progress." We call it desecration.
The Other Kingdoms Stir
It was not just Eldoria that mourned the loss. News of the humans’ actions reached every corner of Veloria. The dwarves of Durgrim, our long-standing trade partners, voiced their discontent but hesitated to act. The orcs of Golthar, though distant, watched the conflict with keen eyes, sensing opportunity.
Even the secluded gnomes and dragonborn of Glimmerwick expressed their disapproval, though they too chose caution over intervention. The Eldorian Council saw the truth: if the humans were not stopped, their hunger would consume all of Veloria.
A Sacred Duty
We did not seek war, but we could not stand idle as our lands were ravaged. Eldoria has always been a steward of balance, a protector of what cannot protect itself. If the humans would not listen to reason, then we would teach them respect with bow and blade.
It was a solemn decision, made not with anger but with resolve. The forest spirits whispered their blessing as our armies marched to defend what was sacred.
The humans saw us as obstacles to their ambition. We saw them as destroyers of all we held dear.
End of Chapter .
The Orcs of Golthar—Survival at Any Cost
As told by Gorvak Bloodtusk, Tribal Lorekeeper of Golthar
The Frozen Wastes
In the icy wastelands of Golthar, life is harsh, brutal, and unyielding. The snows bury our crops, the winds flay our skin, and the beasts we hunt are as desperate as we are. Yet we endure. It is the way of the orc.
For generations, we have scraped by on the fringes of Veloria, watching the soft kingdoms to the south bask in their comfort. Their fertile lands and rich forests are wasted on them. They take their bounty for granted, squabbling over it like children.
When word of the humans’ expansion reached Golthar, the tribes gathered under a single banner. The humans were preoccupied with their war against the elves, leaving their northern borders vulnerable. It was an opportunity we could not ignore.
The March South
Our chieftains agreed to send warbands south, not for conquest, but for survival. The frozen north could no longer sustain us, and the weakness of the southern kingdoms offered a chance to claim what we needed to live.
The first target was Frosthold, a human fortress guarding the Riverlands. Led by Chieftain Garuk Ironhide, our warriors laid siege to its walls. The humans fought fiercely, but they were not prepared for our ferocity. After three moons of battle, the gates fell, and Frosthold was ours.
Conflict Among Chaos
Victory at Frosthold brought us much-needed supplies, but it also drew the attention of our southern neighbors. The elves saw us as a threat to their borders, and the humans called us savages, though it was their greed that brought war to Veloria in the first place.
Even among the tribes, tensions simmered. The clans of Golthar have never been a united people, and whispers of dissent grew as we pushed further south. Some argued that we should negotiate with the elves, while others called for an alliance with the humans. Garuk Ironhide, ever the pragmatist, dismissed both. “The orc bows to no one,” he declared.
Strength Above All
As the war spread across Veloria, we found ourselves beset on all sides. The elves harried our supply lines, the humans launched counterattacks, and the dragonborn of Glimmerwick fortified their borders to keep us out. Yet, despite these challenges, we stood strong.
Golthar has always thrived in chaos. Where others saw war as destruction, we saw opportunity. Every battle was a chance to prove our strength, every enemy a means to forge a legacy.
The Coming Storm
We did not know it then, but the true enemy was already upon us. The Abyssal invasion would change everything, forcing even the strongest to reconsider what survival truly meant. But in those days, we believed only in the axe and the spear.
The humans and elves saw us as marauders, but we were something far greater. We were the storm that would sweep away their weakness, the fire that would forge a stronger Veloria.
For the orc, survival is not a birthright. It is earned. And we intended to claim it, no matter the cost.
End of Chapter.
The Dwarves of Durgrim—Forging Alliances and Breaking Bonds
An Account by Durnan Stoneforge, Crown Prince of Durgrim, Transcribed by Royal Archivist Thalrik Ironbraid
A Kingdom of Stone and Steel
Durgrim has always endured. Deep beneath the mountains, where stone sings and fire forges, we dwarves have built a legacy that will outlast the sun. The veins of mithril, gold, and iron within our halls have made us rich; our craftsmanship, envied by all of Veloria.
While the humans of Solandris squabbled with the elves of Eldoria and the orcs of Golthar raided their borders, we dwarves stood apart, as we always have. Durgrim had no need for war. Our mines thrived, our trade flowed, and our vaults swelled with wealth.
But the war crept to our gates, uninvited.
The Human Bargain
It began with Solandris. Their king, Eryndor, sent emissaries to the Ironcrag Mountains, seeking an alliance. They offered us trade rights, access to their markets, and protection against the orcs, should the war spread north. They also spoke of mithril.
The forests of Eldoria hid deposits of the precious metal, untouched and waiting to be mined. The humans promised to share this wealth if we stood with them against the elves. King Thorik Stoneforge, my father, saw the wisdom in this offer. Our hammers would forge their weapons; our soldiers would march alongside theirs.
For a time, the alliance prospered. The gold flowed as promised, and the humans honored their word. But prosperity breeds expectation, and expectation turns to greed.
The Insult at Mithril Gate
The humans of Solandris, though clever in trade, lacked respect for Durgrim’s ways. Their emissaries treated our halls as bargaining tables, their demands growing bolder with each passing year. The breaking point came during the council at Mithril Gate.
Lord Arthen, a human noble sent to negotiate the division of newly mined mithril, dared to question Durgrim’s honor. “Why should the dwarves take so much when they contribute so little?” he sneered, his arrogance filling the chamber.
The insult was an affront not just to my father but to all of Durgrim. To question our honor is to question our very soul. My father stood and declared, “Durgrim will take no more scraps from Solandris’ table. Our hammers will forge no blade for men who spit on their allies.”
The council ended in anger, and with it, the alliance.
A Shift in Allegiance
Durgrim declared neutrality, withdrawing from the war. For a time, we believed this would shield us from its consequences. But the elves, hearing of our break with Solandris, sent emissaries of their own. They spoke of a shared respect for the earth, of unity against human greed.
Their words resonated with the council, and soon, Durgrim’s forges burned again—not for Solandris, but for Eldoria. Our warriors marched beside the elves, wielding mithril-bladed axes and shields etched with runes of protection.
We did not see this as betrayal, but justice. Solandris had broken faith with us, and so we turned to those who valued honor.
The Breaking of Durgrim
The alliance with Eldoria, while principled, came with its own costs. The orcs of Golthar began raiding our mountain outposts, emboldened by our divided focus. Glimmerwick, ever suspicious of our ambitions, fortified their borders, cutting off valuable trade routes.
Within our halls, dissent grew. Some clans believed we should have remained neutral; others argued for reconciliation with Solandris. My father, resolute as stone, refused to waver. “Durgrim will not bow to human arrogance, nor orcish savagery,” he declared.
Yet even I, his son, saw the cracks forming in our unity.
Lessons in Stone
The war taught Durgrim a harsh truth: no kingdom, not even one built of stone, is unshakable. We dwarves may have held to our honor, but the cost was great.
When the Abyssal invasion came, we were forced to set aside old grudges and fight beside those we once called enemies. But even then, the bitterness lingered. The humans’ insult would not be forgotten, nor our betrayal forgiven.
We are Durgrim. We endure. But the stone remembers.
End of Chapter .
The Cost of Independence
As penned by Quindal Wrenchspark, High Scribe of Glimmerwick
The Watchful Hills
Glimmerwick has long been a place of harmony, a land where gnomish ingenuity and dragonborn strength have flourished together. Nestled in the verdant hills, our cities were known not for war but for invention. The gears of progress turned here, fueled by curiosity and the peaceful coexistence of our people.
As the War of the Five Kings raged beyond our borders, we remained steadfast in our neutrality. To take sides in a conflict of such folly seemed unthinkable. Yet we were not blind. We saw the ambitions of Solandris, the wrath of Eldoria, the hunger of Golthar, and the stubborn pride of Durgrim. None could be trusted to leave us in peace.
The Sacking of Gnomereach
Neutrality, it seems, is a brittle shield. As the humans and elves tore into each other, both saw Glimmerwick’s wealth as an easy prize. Gnomereach, our shining city of invention, was their first target.
The humans claimed our inventions for their armies, their soldiers trampling through our workshops as though they were conquerors. The elves, though less brutal, were no less invasive, taking what they deemed “a fair tribute” for their cause. When Gnomereach fell, it was not to fire and blood but to greed and arrogance.
We begged for diplomacy, pleaded for our independence to be respected. Our pleas fell on deaf ears. In that moment, we realized the truth: neutrality would not save us.
The Dragonborn’s Roar
It was the dragonborn who rallied us. Proud and unyielding, they would not stand idly by while their homes were desecrated. Grand Marshal Thalvaren of Glimmerwick declared the founding of the Glimmering Alliance, uniting our people under a single banner.
Our ingenuity turned to war. The workshops of Gnomereach were rebuilt, not for art or invention, but to craft weapons of devastating precision. Dragonborn warriors wielded enchanted blades, while gnomish engineers deployed machines that rained fire and steel upon our enemies.
We did not seek conquest. We sought justice.
A Kingdom Besieged
Though our efforts were valiant, Glimmerwick soon found itself surrounded. Solandris called us traitors for defending what was ours. Eldoria accused us of disrupting the balance of the land. Even the orcs of Golthar raided our borders, seeking to test the mettle of our alliance.
Yet we endured. Our hills became fortresses, our rivers barriers, and our people an unyielding bulwark against the chaos of Veloria. The dragonborn’s strength and the gnomes’ ingenuity proved a formidable combination.
But independence came at a cost. Trade dwindled, allies turned to enemies, and the peaceful harmony we once knew became a distant memory.
The Abyssal Reckoning
When the Abyssal invasion came, we were prepared. More than any other kingdom, Glimmerwick’s ingenuity had readied us for the unexpected. Our war machines turned against the fiends with brutal efficiency, and our mages wove protective wards to shield our cities.
Yet, even in this shared struggle, we remained outsiders. The other kingdoms looked upon us with suspicion, their grudges too fresh to forget. We fought beside them, but not with them.
The Price of Progress
As the dust of war settled and the Abyssal rift was sealed, Glimmerwick stood proud but weary. Our independence had been preserved, but the trust of our neighbors had been shattered.
Today, we are a land of innovation, but also of vigilance. We have learned that progress is a double-edged blade, one that must be wielded with care. The world sees us as a kingdom of tinkerers and warriors, but we remember what we were before the war—a land of dreamers and peacekeepers.
Perhaps, one day, we will be that again.
End of Chapter.
The Abyssal Reckoning
As recorded by Archmage Haldoor Blackcloak, Founder of the University of Arcanis
The Breaking Point
For seven years, the War of the Five Kings tore through Veloria like an unquenchable wildfire. Armies marched, kingdoms burned, and blood stained the rivers. The people called for peace, yet their rulers could not see past their grudges.
It was amidst this chaos that the true enemy emerged. The Abyssal cult, hidden in the shadows, had been preparing for this moment. They fed on the chaos, drawing power from the hatred and despair that festered across the land. Their leaders, known as the Children of the Abyss, completed their vile ritual in the ruins of the ancient city of Gorgathal.
A rift tore open in the sky above, and from it came the legions of the Abyss, led by the Demon Prince himself: Demogorgon, the twin-headed Prince of Madness. His arrival was heralded by plagues of fiends, their laughter and screams echoing through the shattered lands. The kingdoms, divided and weakened, faced annihilation.
The Summit at Dawnspire
Amidst the ruin, a desperate call was made. Envoys from each kingdom traveled to Dawnspire, a neutral fortress atop the high cliffs of the Sapphire Coast. There, beneath the shadow of the Celestial Spire, the leaders of Veloria gathered.
King Eryndor of Solandris, proud but weary; Queen Lyssara of Eldoria, her grief hidden behind cold resolve; Garuk Ironhide of Golthar, his axe stained with the blood of countless battles; Prince Durnan Stoneforge of Durgrim, unyielding as the mountains themselves; and Grand Marshal Thalvaren of Glimmerwick, who carried the weight of his people’s independence on his broad shoulders.
For the first time in history, the Five Banners were raised side by side.
Yet unity did not come easily. Old grudges surfaced, and accusations flew. It was not diplomacy that brought them together, but necessity. When the fiends began attacking Dawnspire itself, the leaders realized they had no choice. The Pact of the Five Banners was forged, and the combined armies of Veloria marched to face the Abyss.
The Battle of Abyssal Gates
The rift to the Abyss lay at the heart of the ruins of Gorgathal, a city once known for its wisdom, now a charred and corrupted husk. The armies of Veloria converged there, their banners fluttering beneath an ashen sky.
The battle raged for three days and nights, the ground trembling beneath the clash of steel and the roars of demons. Heroes rose in this desperate hour:
- Sir Alaric of Solandris, wielding the divine Blade of Light, carved through fiends like a beacon of hope.
- Warden Lyssara of Eldoria, her arrows blessed by the forest spirits, struck down the winged horrors that filled the skies.
- Garuk Ironhide, who slew a demon lieutenant in single combat, rallying the orcs with his primal roar.
- Prince Durnan, who held the western flank with unbreakable resolve, shielding his allies from overwhelming numbers.
- Grand Marshal Thalvaren, who led the charge into the heart of the rift, his enchanted lance piercing through the ranks of fiends.
At the battle’s climax, Archmagister Thelarion of Glimmerwick unleashed the Seal of Eternity, a forbidden spell that closed the rift at the cost of his life. As the rift collapsed, the ground beneath Gorgathal gave way, swallowing the ruins—and the Abyssal taint—into the depths of the earth.
The Sealing of the Abyssal Vault
The rift was closed, but its remnants could not be destroyed. The leaders of Veloria agreed to bury the site beneath layers of arcane wards and divine blessings. This became the Abyssal Vault, a place that must never be found.
To ensure its secrecy, all knowledge of the Vault’s location was erased. The few who knew its true whereabouts took their oaths to the grave. A single record, the Hidden Tome of the Abyss, was created and locked away in the University of Arcanis, written in a cipher that only the pure of heart could decode.
The Founding of Arcanis
In the aftermath, the Pact of the Five Banners established the University of Arcanis atop the sealed Vault. Its purpose was twofold: to train future generations to guard against the Abyss and to serve as a beacon of unity.
I, Haldoor Blackcloak, was honored to be named the first headmaster. I swore that the University would remain neutral, a sanctuary for knowledge and a watchtower against the darkness.
Legacy of the Reckoning
Though the Abyssal invasion was repelled, its scars remain. The kingdoms of Veloria found a fragile peace, but tensions simmer beneath the surface. The Demogorgon’s influence lingers, his whispers of madness reaching even the strongest minds.
The University of Arcanis stands as a monument to the Reckoning, its spires rising above the land like a promise—and a warning. For though we triumphed that day, the Abyss is patient, and the Demogorgon is not so easily defeated.
End of Chapter
The Fractured Peace
As recorded by Novice Archivist Leoran Pell, University of Arcanis
A Century of Silence
The War of the Five Kings ended a hundred years ago, and with it, the chaos that tore Veloria apart. On the surface, the kingdoms have embraced unity. Trade routes once choked with ash now hum with caravans; cultural festivals celebrate a shared heritage; even the University of Arcanis welcomes scholars and students from all lands.
Yet peace, like a thin pane of glass, is fragile. Beneath this era of prosperity lies the same ambition, suspicion, and rivalry that once drove Veloria to the brink of destruction.
The Unseen Struggles
Veloria's kingdoms, while no longer at war, remain locked in a quiet competition.
- Solandris, though diminished by its failures during the war, has reclaimed its status as a trade powerhouse. Its merchants and diplomats weave webs of influence across the continent, ensuring the kingdom's dominance in commerce. Yet whispers of their disdain for the “lesser kingdoms” linger, and their treaties often come with strings attached.
- Eldoria continues to guard its sacred forests, its leaders wary of human expansion. Though the elves share their magic and artistry freely, they do so with a sense of superiority, reminding all who partake of the price they paid to preserve Veloria’s balance.
- Durgrim, ever-pragmatic, thrives on technological and economic innovation. The dwarves' creations are in high demand, but their mistrust of Solandris runs deep. Clans still sing of the insult at Mithril Gate, their forges kindling with both ambition and grudges.
- Golthar, though unified during the war, has fractured into rival clans. The orcs struggle to reclaim their strength while fending off encroachment from their neighbors. To them, the current peace is merely the eye of a storm.
- Glimmerwick thrives in independence, its workshops and academies producing marvels unmatched across Veloria. But their success comes at a cost. Accusations of secrecy and unchecked power cast a shadow over their achievements, and many still resent their refusal to take a side until it was too late.
The University as a Battleground
The University of Arcanis, founded to unify the kingdoms, has become a stage for their rivalries. Within its hallowed halls, students and faculty represent their homelands with pride—often to a fault.
Debates over magical theory often escalate into arguments over history, politics, and lingering grievances. Duels, while strictly regulated, have become thinly veiled challenges of national pride. Even the Council of Deans struggles to maintain balance, its members caught between their duty to the University and their loyalty to their kingdoms.
The Hidden Tome of the Abyss, locked deep within the archives, is a source of quiet unease. Few know of its existence, but those who do cannot ignore its faint hum, as though the darkness within is restless.
The Abyssal Shadow
Though the Demogorgon was driven back, his whispers linger in the corners of Veloria’s peace. Cults have resurfaced, their symbols scrawled on forgotten ruins and their rites conducted in moonless nights. Each kingdom blames the other for failing to root out the cultists, further deepening the rift between them.
The Abyssal Vault, buried beneath the University, remains a closely guarded secret. Yet, as tensions rise, the fear grows that the Demogorgon may one day exploit these divisions, just as he did before.
Hope Amidst Division
Despite the simmering tensions, hope persists. The younger generations of Veloria, born after the Reckoning, seem less burdened by the past. Friendships form between students of rival kingdoms, and adventuring parties bring together heroes from all walks of life.
The University of Arcanis continues to stand as a beacon, its towers rising above the fractured lands. Whether it will remain a symbol of unity or become the epicenter of the next great conflict depends on the choices of those who walk its halls.
A Warning
We must remember the lessons of the Abyssal Reckoning. Division brought us to the brink of destruction, and only unity saved us.
But unity, once shattered, is not so easily mended.
End of Chapter.
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