Legends of the Throne: The First Forging

Prologue

Across the world, chaos reigns. Our people are being targeted, my friend. Try as we might, we cannot fight them off. We have stood against the might of many foes, but this is different. The attacks are not random, they are focused, and they are everywhere on every front. Our farms, mills, outposts, carriers, and several of the attacks have been on our cities’ doorsteps. Our seafaring neighbors to the south are reporting an increase in pirating and missing ships and crews. It is a riddle we cannot solve. There is a unifying plan, and a deeper magic accompanying the races that are attacking us. In addition, more races are taking up arms against us. It is no wonder that the human races are bitter and each one of their nations have individual vendettas for our apparent harshness. The Accursed have a history of being a nuisance, hidden away in the wilderness and all but disappearing, holding tight to the hurts that have long been forgotten by all others and inflicting pain whenever possible. The alliance between the two was unexpected but not surprising. Several decades passed and we didn’t turn our heads once to the true reason this happened. Things are beginning to change now.

There are reports of Nimbrels slaughtering isolated villages beyond the aid of the city’s military. I find this alarming, as does the general population. The Nimbrels have been so secluded over the past several centuries we feared our long-time allies had perhaps passed into legend. Now very young Nimbrels are coming in small groups under the cover of night, killing, destroying, and stealing, and are using more intrusive and offensive magic than we have ever encountered before. Similar stories are reaching my ears from all over the world.

I hope to warn you and those in the capital, though you suppose yourselves to be safe beyond the reach of any and all, hidden by the mountains and the veil. The winds are changing, however, and are people are under attack and I fear the ancient magic will not suffice for much longer. A new generation is coming up through the ranks. Younger and vengeful and addicted to power. If we do nothing we may find ourselves in the middle of a storm we cannot weather divided as we are.

I hope my warning finds you in time and does not fall on deaf ears. War is brewing;

the whole world over. Even if you are protected, the rest of us are vulnerable, my old friend. We are many but we are not prepared to fight multiple races on multiple fronts. I do not expect your aid, but I do hope you will spread the news to those who have the right to know and can do something to prevent catastrophe. Keep your loved ones close and do not travel across the mountains unnecessarily. Perhaps we shall see each other soon. If not, may the stars watch over and lead you until we meet again. Peace to you, Pashulai.

-Letter to Floridil, presiding officer of the High Elven Council