Age of Prosperity - Lazaron

Introduction

The Chaos Wars finally dwindled to an end, and what they left behind was far worse than chaos. Annihilation, death, hopelessness, and despair wrung the hearts of those in both the kingdoms. Life had come to an end the way people knew it, and the only way to survive was to come to terms with what was now their world.

Those living in Lazaron could no longer hide behind doubt and ignorance about what lay on the other side of the strange Rift in their land. They now knew. Death lay there, waiting, stalking them. Though threat of the Rift itself was great enough, the threat of the return of the Horde and further attacks from Karatta were a far greater concern. They had to rebuild, they had to fortify, they had to be ready next time. And they were sure there would be a next time. The High Elves Called a meeting. A meeting that all races were to attend. Such a meeting had not occurred since the Age of Mercy when the land was split into kingdoms that were since lost to the memory of nearly every living being. What could they possibly do with their depleted numbers and ruined land? How would they survive much less defend against attacks? Would Xaltion help them? And just who were these people and creatures from this mysterious land? Answers would come to some of their questions, while others were left with silence.

The residents of Karatta had much to be concerned about as well. Having made themselves enemies not only on the other side of the Rift, but also right within their own lands. The people of Lazaron surely would not sit idly by after the destruction and havoc the forces of Karatta had brought upon them. The Chaos Legions driven into the wastes of the desert would not be content where they were, or with their defeat. When would they be attacked, and by whom? Their lands were in a shambles from the hostilities with the Horde. Their social structure was failing. They needed to make a change, and they all knew it. But could they trust one another? Could they trust Xaltion who had betrayed them once again to his favored Lazaronians? Could they trust themselves? A meeting was called and all were to attend. But would they?

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--Arch Druid Grentalian Hei’Tinel

The Chaos Wars had ended, however strange, however sudden, and the people of Lazaron banded together as we had the last thirteen years, and began to mend our bodies, minds, and spirits as well as our lands. And there was much to be mended. The stink of war and death and the foulness of the brutal creatures that had descended upon us contaminated the land. A wind did not blow that did not carry the stench of decay. A river did not flow that did not hold the taste of rot and blood. One could not walk a mile without coming upon a decomposing corpse or skeleton.

It would take years for us to cleanse the land of the decay that riddled her. We burned any corpse of the enemy that we found, and gave proper burial to the many remains of our people. So many died, so many suffered, so many children were born and grew under the dark press of war, their eyes now hard and their faces never bearing a smile. Our children were different, we were different, life was different - and for what? Why us? What could those people want from us? Who were they? These were questions that drifted in the back of everyone’s minds. But so long had they been there that we were as accustomed to them as the sound of our own heartbeat. No one asked. We just wondered and survived.

I talk much of the wilds, forgive me for they are my home. There was little left of the former cities and villages that used to dot the countryside. The Legions left hardly more than foundations in most places. Those that still had structures of any kind had been so fouled by the Horde, that they were burned. Determined to scrape a life out of what was left, the people began to clear the rubble from the ruined towns and rebuild. Their rebuilding would have a different goal in mind than in previous years. Though fortification was always a thought because of the Rift Spawn, the idea was taken to a whole new level. We were no longer preparing for minor invasions of Rift creatures. We were preparing for full-scale war. We would not be caught unawares again, not any of us.

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The Dwarves and the Gnomes were fairly well off, their towns being located within the mountains. Though it took the dwarves nearly six months to excavate the stone and rubble left behind from when they had collapsed the tunnels to their city. When inside, they found it mostly intact aside from the original damage done before the collapse. Upon entering the stone city, they came to the realization that Chelsa had served as a mass tomb for hundreds of Dwarves that had died nearly thirteen years ago when Chelsa was laid siege to. The Dwarves took the situation hard and weeks of ceremony took place as each and every Dwarf’s remains were properly entombed with all the honors of their war heroes. Rebuilding their town began, and the fortifications that they implemented were a fearsome combination of Dwarven ingenuity and spite. Many traps that one wouldn’t wish their worse enemy to be caught in were designed and implemented by the scorned Dwarves.

The Gnomes were pleased to find that their traps in the outer part of their city had claimed many of the Horde’s numbers, and discouraged them from even attempting to enter the city’s inner caverns. The Legion had apparently taken their aggressions out on the accessible outer part of the city they could reach, and it was nothing but piles of rock and rubble. It took them almost a year to clear out all the broken stone and twisted metal, corpses, and finally cleared their collapsed entryways. They were very fortunate to find their inner caverns untouched and fully inhabitable. They began to rebuild their outer city, trying to maintain a livable and welcoming atmosphere while quietly attending to the fortifications they knew they needed.

As the handful Sprites that survived the Chaos Wars returned to Desta, they were met with something different than extreme devastation or ruins. Desta had seemingly disappeared. Since the Sprites were naturally careful about making too deep a mark on the land they inhabit, they were only able to find Desta by memory and the very few vague outlines of foundations. Nature had otherwise reclaimed Desta. The Sprites began to carefully rebuild their village, being respectful of the new life that had sprung up in its ruins. The underground Temple of Desta was discovered a few months into the rebuilding, and within it the wounds of the Chaos War were ripped wide open for the Sprites. Much like the Dwarves, the Sprites came upon the mass remains of the many Sprites that had barricaded themselves into the temple hoping to survive the onslaught of the Legions some how. The Sprites were so tortured by this discovery, they chose to seal up the Temple and leave it for the tomb of their lost brethren.

The Tree Elves reluctantly returned to Qwaylan, almost afraid of what we would find. What we did find was charred piles of wood scattered over the forest floor, the remains of what used to be our homes, bridges, shops and our village. The trees seemed to have healed themselves from what damage might have been done to them from the fire that ravished the once graceful tree city. Relieved to at least find that the forest still stood, we, the Tree Elves began to rebuild our homes among the branches of the trees. More attention was paid to defense this time, as a group we agreed to never abandon our homes again. We would make sure we would be more defendable against such forces as we were faced with before.

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The Humans too were to be met with the task of rebuilding their completely burned and demolished village. Being mostly wood and river stone, Laraville had burned nearly to its foundations and was overgrown with weed and grass. It took some months, but soon Laraville’s roads had been unearthed, and the rebuilding commenced. Of note to the people of Laraville was that there were no remains discovered in the area of the town. They wondered if the small group that had been left behind as a decoy had escaped or been taken captive. They chose not to think about what they would never know and instead focused on the task at hand. Building a bigger, even more defended Laraville.

The Pixies didn’t have to go anywhere to discover what was left of their home. It had been the home of everyone in the lands for over a decade. What they did have to do is decide exactly what they were going to do with all the guard towers, fields, shacks, tents, and other modifications that had been made to their once small, quaint village. The pixies quickly set about removing most of the additions and giving the salvaged materials to the Gnomes who had use for such things. Once done, they set about weaving walls of colorful vines all around their town and planting new grass and trees on the parts of the land that had been cleared to make room for living spaces. They decided they wouldn’t ever have another King and Queen in honor of their late royal family who perished with no heirs. Instead a town council was comprised of what was left of the nobility.

It was about a year when Dwarven representatives came to visit the Pixies, bringing gifts to thank them for their hospitality. They were horrified to see what the Pixies deemed a ‘well defended village’ and immediately approached the council to discuss the Dwarves building a good solid wall for their small allies. The Pixies agreed mainly because it seemed it would make the Dwarves quite happy, and building commenced nearly a year later. The Dwarves carted huge slabs of sand colored marble all the way from Mt. Iceback to the unprepared village of Avendae. The Pixies watched in complete dismay as the Dwarves effectively walled them in with a twenty-foot high, five-foot wide wall of solid marble.

It would take over fifteen years to complete, and once done, the Pixies were beside themselves with grief. This wall was positively dreadful to the free spirited creatures. The Dwarves met with the Pixie council and after some hours of talk, in complete exasperation, the Dwarves began to make carvings and niches where plants could be grown over the entire surface of the wall. This seemed to make the Pixies a little more at ease and after almost twenty years of labor, the Dwarves left a well-fortified Avendae.

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Quenae itself was surprisingly not completely destroyed, as it appeared that it was used as a base of some kind for quite a while. The High Elves also had another surprise for them when they arrived. A small band of Orcs, Ogres, and a few goblins were captured. Most of the High Elves attentions were focused on their prisoners, and after months of magical interrogation, they decided it was necessary to call a meeting with the other races of the land. There was much to talk about. Much more than anyone had ever anticipated. It would take several months for the High Elves to finally gather a group of representatives for each race to Quenae. Not that they didn’t want to come, but it took a while for people to find the time to vote who would represent them. It took a lot to pull the Sprites and Tree Elves away from their task of purifying nature.

When we finally did meet, it was around the middle of 693 A.X. in the village of Quenae. The people knew we would be there to discuss important things, but we were completely unprepared for what we would hear. The High Elven councilor, Havental Gre’yinah, addressed the races with a solemn tone. He explained first, what they had learned from the band of Karattan prisoners they detained. Dekatar, as the man was called that was leading the armies, was rumored to be a demigod. Some sort of half man, half god being. He had brought the Karattan armies to Lazaron under the impression of taking the lands for themselves, since their own land was so corrupt and dangerous. The true reason behind this Dekatar’s plans was to come and plunder the relics, histories, and artifacts the people held. Specifically of importance to him was a book. A certain book written by someone they all knew - the old man Lazaron.

Of course we were all confused, even baffled at what Havental was telling us, and we had many questions as well. Our people had no relics, no artifacts. And what would they want with that crazy old man Lazaron’s book? How would they even know of Lazaron’s existence? Our histories that we had begun recording in the Age of Mercy surely were of little interest to those individuals. But most importantly, who were these people? If Dekatar truly was a ‘demigod’ as the High Elves suspected, Xaltion was then his father?

Havental explained that Dekatar believed that Lazaron was some kind of demigod much like himself, and that his book would contain important information. The High Elves as a whole suspected that Dekatar already knew what the book would reveal, and for some reason did not want them to have it, as the group they detained revealed they had been sent to find and destroy this book. However, when they attempted to destroy the book they found that it was not possible. The cover itself was not able to even be marred, and wherever ink lay on the pages within, the paper could not be torn or burned. The Orcs had found the book finally, and upon discovering it was unable to be destroyed, they ripped the pages from the binding and sent members of their group off with them to hide and scatter. The few the High Elves had captured were the remains of a much larger group apparently.

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The room was a stunned silence for quite some time as our minds all tried to grasp what the High Elves were telling us. Taking advantage of our idleness, the High Councilor went on. He further explained that our lands did posses relics and artifacts, many of which had magical properties. The High Elves had, for years, been sending out specialized groups to find these items and bring them back to Quenae where they were studied, documented, and put into secret chambers below the city for safe keeping. Further, the High Elves never told anyone of this because they feared that these powerful items would make their way into the hands of people that would not understand them or use them responsibly. Some of the magic these things contained were unknown even to their Scholars.

I recall the Dwarven ambassador’s eyes widening, his beard appeared to bristle and he could do little more than sputter the whole time. The Tree Elves had suspected such things of the High Elves for centuries, but had never had any real proof to go on. The Pixie representative seemed to be watching the Dwarf with some apprehension, the Humans simply arched a brow, and the Sprites maintained their usual unreadable visage. The single Gnome that had come for his people scratched his head a few times, consulted a notebook, then shrugged and looked back up at the Councilor. It was a hard few moments, but that silence and suspense was nothing compared to the near bloodshed that was to follow it.

The Dwarf, Miken Greystalk was the first to react. Seeming to find his tongue finally, he began berating the High Elves for their betrayal. How COULD they do such a thing? Keep such things from the rest of the people? Who did they think they were, holding back such knowledge and such items from the rest of the world? He drew forth his axe, which I have noticed Dwarves are never far away from a weapon of some sort, and moved toward the Councilor. I remember placing my hand on his shoulder, and simply saying, ‘Peace brother Dwarf. I fear he is not finished with what he must tell us. Let his confession conclude before you split him, I beg.’ Miken appeared to struggle with some inner battle before slamming the blade of his axe down into the large oak table the High Elven Councilor stood behind. To his credit, he didn’t flinch. He just met the eyes of the Dwarf, then nodded slightly to me.

The Human, Abigale Dorlanda, spoke - her voice surprisingly clear and concise. It was easy for me to see why they had chosen her, though at first I was a bit surprised to see a woman as a representative for the meeting. She asked Havental about the conclusion that this Dekatar is some sort of son of Xaltion? Was it true? It wasn’t so much her words that demanded attention, but her entire demeanor. Havental replied and explained that they did not believe he was the son of Xaltion, no. And this lead to further confessions. Confessions few were willing to accept. The Councilor explained that aside from the relics and artifacts they kept hidden, history was another thing they had always kept, even before the Age of Mercy. They had kept it for personal reasons prior to the people as a whole deciding that history should indeed be recorded, and they had felt no need or obligation to share it. Many would beg to differ.

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One major part of these histories that the High Elves had failed to share with the rest of the world is that there were more Gods than just Xaltion. There used to be three others in fact. He paused. I don’t know if it was for dramatics, to catch his breath, or to figure out how he was going to tell us the rest of this revelation. But the pause was unnerving none the less. Some looked like they were about to say something, but no one really appeared to know what exactly they would say. Havental continued before any of us could really get our wits about us. Apparently, only a few very elite members of the High Elven society even knew the things he was telling us, so this was supposed to be some honor. We certainly didn’t feel honored. More like children being told that Dragons don’t really exist for the first time. He explained that the Ruination that had been previously blamed on Xaltion’s temper was actually caused by these other Gods. And that Xaltion had left to protect us. Further, the more recent rumors of the Rending being the result of Xaltion striking down another God were in fact in truth.

Havental said matter-of-factly, ‘That leaves two’, two other gods. But where were they, who were they, what were they? These questions came from all directions. Rage seemed to have been forgotten for the moment, in its place unbelievable confusion and the feeling of the world spinning far too quickly for you to keep your feet. The Dwarf nearly fell back into his seat. The Councilor further explained that though they did not know ‘what’ or ‘who’ exactly the other two that survived were, they did know they were actually trapped in the center of the world, and that is why there was ‘mana’ available to the people of the world. It was being pulled from these Gods as a way to keep them from breaking free of their prison. I don’t recall how long he stopped talking for. But it was long enough for most of us to remember to breathe again. Also quite long enough for the Dwarf to once again rise from his seat and scream at Havental calling him a liar and a betrayer, and finally a blasphemer.

Unwilling to accept that there were Gods other than Xaltion and the Aspects of himself he had directly created, the Dwarf grabbed his axe and pulled it loose from the table. Kicking the table over and shoving Havental against the wall. Miken exclaimed that the High Elves would soon hear from the Dwarves and what the Karattan armies had brought would be a child’s bad dream compared to the wrath of the Dwarves. His arm was shaking as his axe was raised and poised to take the head from the Councilor. Something managed to stay his hand however, and he spit upon Havental before storming from the chamber, kicking chairs and knocking things from the wall as he did. Though he slammed the door behind him, you could hear things falling and breaking as he made his way down the hallway. His voice bellowing about the outrages of the High Elves and the blood that would be shed to repay years of lies and deceit. One thing is certain. You never lie to a Dwarf.

Carefully and deliberately taking his time, Havental straightened his robes and wiped the spit from his cheek. He looked to the rest of us and continued. He explained the High Elves knew we were upset and would think much like the Dwarves thought. He begged us to understand why the High Elves had done what they had, and that it was in hopes to protect us from what they viewed as a serious threat to our society as a whole. The Human Abigale pointed out that it was the Elves first mistake in thinking that they were above the rest of us and that we needed protection. All agreed. Havental sighed and spread his hands to the group of us. He asked us what could he do about the past? They were trying to right their ways, and this meeting was called to reveal what should have been told centuries ago, and also to discuss their future, which they feared was in grave danger.

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He pointed out that regardless of their mistakes, the High Elves had never turned their back on anyone, nor had they ever failed to be there through any crisis. Looking back, none of us could deny that the High Elves had indeed, always been there and had been a major catalyst in the rebuilding of the world. We would at least let him finish what he had to say. He expressed his concerns about the relics and artifacts that were missing. It seemed to greatly unnerve him that they didn’t know who had them and some of the most powerful were among those taken. Further, the histories they had kept were all burned and destroyed, and would now be lost forever but to the memories of the very few that had read them. And then there was the matter of Lazaron’s book, as well as the identity of Lazaron himself. And last but not least, who were these people that had invaded us?

Havental had theories on all of them. Theories he was very sure of. Upon the study of the corpses they had found, they believed that four of the races that had attacked them were actually related to the people here. The High Elves felt they were somehow corrupted versions of us. Perhaps they were the descendents of the survivors from the Rending, the citizens of the kingdoms lost when the world was torn apart. Apparently, Karatta was a land of corruption and serious influence from the Rift was to blame. Dekatar brought the other three, Orcs, Ogres, and Goblins, forth from the Rift himself. The ones they had captured had no clue of history or where they ‘came from’. The elves suspected magical tampering with their minds was to blame but could not find a way to help them remember. We all looked at one another, trying to see if maybe someone else had a better idea of what exactly was going on, but everyone had the same vaguely hopeful expression that perhaps this was all just in our imagination. We would wake and the real meeting would take place. Unfortunately, we realized that we were finally truly living in reality. None of us were sure we quite liked it.

Havental appeared to notice our mental anguish and attempted to console us. He explained that he knew this was all a lot to take in and process and he wished we had more time to really talk about it, but he greatly feared what he didn’t know. And what he didn’t know was when these people would attack us again, when they would find out how to use the relics and artifacts they may posses, and more importantly what was in the book of Lazaron. He did wish to depart on us the last bit of Knowledge that the High Elves had come to discover. Upon much research and reflection on the old man Lazaron’s behavior, words, and seemingly perfect prophecy, they determined Lazaron must have been Xaltion in an avatar form trying to warn them of what he knew was going on in Karatta. But what did this mean? Did he truly favor Lazaron? Did he fear this Dekatar? Was he not powerful enough to stop him? The Elves knew as much of these things as anyone else. It would take the discovery of all the pages of his book and the decoding of the language it was written in to truly understand.

‘So what should we do?’ was the unanimous question. Of course, the High Elves had a plan. They decided that Knowledge was indeed power. As such, what we all needed to do was ‘empower’ ourselves. They proposed a plan that involved each major town to build and establish Training Academies. We would send our children to them when they were young, very young, and their skills and abilities would be identified. They would then be nurtured and trained in their talent and finally graduate from the academy after a certain time of training. It was a completely different plan than any of us had considered. Most of us were on a ‘build higher walls and come up with better weapons’ line of thought.

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Havental, seeing that he had most of our attention, continued to explain that this plan would give us literally armies of people that could not only swing a sword or cast some spells, but trained, fully focused, armies. People that would dedicate their lives and their energy to being the best they could be, discovering new spells or advancement in armor and weaponry. We didn’t have the brute strength or numbers these Karattan’s seemed to have, but we could beat them with knowledge. The question was brought then, who would teach all these ‘students’ of this academy? Havental spread his hands and said that High Elves could teach magical arts and some other skills. Tree Elves and Sprites most certainly should be the ones to identify and train in Nature Magic and Elemental Magic. Humans were by far the best at some of the trade professions, while other races were better at different ones. He explained that we all would teach. We all would help mold the future heroes and defenders of our land.

The meeting went late into the night and into the next morning. We did not notice the sun rise, nor did we need for sleep. We were energized and hopeful about this idea. So long had we had magical abilities that we never truly fostered and brought to their full potential. How long had we depended on Xaltion and his Aspects to carry us through? Yes, this was the answer. It was more than ‘creating an army’. It was creating independence and a chance of survival, and in both places we were failing. It was at this time that agreements were struck, pacts were made, and plans were set into action. A name was chosen for our land as a whole. That name was to honor the old man that came to us so long ago. The old man we took for granted and thought ourselves better than he. The name of our land would be Lazaron, and the name would serve to remind us never to take for granted the gifts we are given by Xaltion. Lazaron was a gift, and so were our land and our lives.

It would fall to the Human representative to go to the Dwarves and try to convince them to participate. I did not envy her. The High Elves promised to make part of their task in this Academy plan to educate us all on the things they had held from us all these many Ages. They had to educate their own people as well, and face them with the fact they had kept secrets from them. But that was not our concern. We had a goal, a vision. This thought, this path we took to knowledge and self-empowerment would lead to more than just academies. Trade grew and before long, wagons crisscrossed the countryside boasting wares never before offered. New armors, weapons, and tools were invented to match the rising skill of our fighters and crafters. New spells surfaced every day, and many new magical discoveries were made. Truly we were more advanced and whole than we had ever been before. We were united under a true banner of unity and dedication.

The banner of Lazaron has stood for all that we have been through and gone through for over two hundred years now. Academies now stand in every major town across Lazaron, welcoming all those that would seek to learn and use their knowledge for the betterment of our people. Our society still struggles, but we have developed in mind and soul. We begin now in the year 912 A.X. to turn our honed skills to the lands. We look to our towns to grow to cities, our dirt roads to become paved and our wilds to be tamed. We look to expand our numbers and take hold of this unruly land once and for all. We have grown and we have learned. We have come into a new Age. An Age brought about by old wrongs righted, and self-awareness. This is the Age of growth, change, and victory over more than a battlefield. We have achieved victory over life itself. This is the Age of Prosperity.

In Closing

The Age of Prosperity attempts to set the stage for what the world has most recently been through, what players can expect, and how they can merge more easily into this spinning world. Are you ready to bring your kingdom to its deserved glory? Are you ready to defend all you have and care about? Are you willing to defend your life? Step into The Seventh Sun – The Age of Prosperity, and step into a whole new meaning of adventure.

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