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One thousand years after the battle of Dwarf and Men, the world was at peace with the laws set about by the four kings, the new State of the World border sanctions were put in place. Many places flourished under the new State of the World borders in place, there were however some small areas that neither flourished nor succeeded in life of The World. The borders were set up after the Battle of East and South between King Dwokin and King Angur.
Queen Felkin claimed the mountains in the East as her domain and quickly erected walls around her domain, stretching from the Tip of The North to the far reaches of the south-eastern shoreline, they built furiously into the rock and stone, building an underground fortress of the likes that none had ever seen, and wouldn’t see if they weren’t members of the Dwarven Guild, an allegiance of all the Dwarf races, and Dark Elves cast out by the River Elves. The city under Mount Terror was a sight to behold, truly it was one of the 5 wonders of the World, up there with the steps of Asrar, a stair way down to the domain of the Dark Spirit Lord Ezeq, ruler of demons and ghosts.
The men of the south had erected barricades stopping anyone gaining entry into their territory without authorisation, many refugees from the North were coming to ask for refugee status among the city Yaral, the more they turned away, even more would show up in the next day or two. They weren’t causing trouble or acting aggressive, all they wanted to was escape the Dark Winter that was blowing in. Giants, Snow Elves and Men of the Caves were the most frequent at the gates of Yaral asking for entry, but occasionally an adventuring Orc would find its way to the borders, not the nasty Orcs you read about in the local lore they tell you, no these ones are exiled from their cities for what ever reasons Orcs exile one another. Quite often they were nice folk once you gave them a chance and didn’t take offence to their presence. And one such Orc had found himself travelling with a Giant of Frost Valley, from the tip of the North. The Orc, Jurl, was your typical, sturdy, sure footed Orc, muscular and hardy, but he carried a gentle mind and caring heart. He had been exiled for asking his father for permission to marry an Elf woman, not surprisingly his father said no and took full offence to the pure stupidity that his Prince son, Heir to the Throne of Vrellink Cavern, would even consider the idea. Secretly, in the dead of the night, about 20 years ago, his father had Jurl kidnapped and taking to the far reaches of their land towards the border of South. Jurl had wandered the far reaches of the Western Hills amongst the Elves for around ten years or so when the High Elf of RiverHill asked he offer his service and take a quest of great importance for the sake of the World. The High Elf, Erwon, issued him with a horse, small amount of supplies and the Horn of Fronwer,
“Blow this horn when you meet the wizard of Asrar” and that is why he is travelling South, to find the steps of Asrar and find the one they call Kazaki the Shadow.
The Giant he travels with is Grondo, son of Trondo the Destroyer, the King of Frost Valley. Another heir to the Throne out in the wilderness, Jurl found this to be more than just a coincidence that Grondo was on the same journey to find Kazaki. Grondo stood at 20 Feet tall and had pale, muscular skin. His hair was a dark brown and hung thick and heavy on his head. He was the heir to his domains throne, but his father, at the recommendation of his Wise Mage, asked his only son to travel to Asrar and find Kazaki, get the stone of Muert and make for the caverns of the East. This much he didn’t tell Jurl, Giants were so quick to distrust people, especially Orcs, but for the companionship they kept each other company with tales of their travels and their lives, to the degree of what the other knew of course, to keep things secret and mysterious of course.
Drondos family lived at the very tip of the North. The most hostile of places, wild Frost Tigers and Snow Trolls and such lived out those ways, Giants ruled there because nobody else could survive there. Those were in the old days of course but now that the Age of Grangils ruling was well in effect, things were dictated by the greed of the Dwarves. The caps of the North were melting and crumbling into the sea, a sign that the stability of the mountains was being compromised, and the only ones who dug too deep were the dwarves.
The West was occupied by the Elves, quiet solitary lives among the forest of RiverHill is what they lived. After the battle that Grangil won supremacy, they distanced themselves from all living things that craved greed, men, orc and Dwarves to name the worst. They kept to themselves, as did the Dwarfs of the East, except the Elves lived of off nature and magic, they did not require gold and wealth for they had discovered the wealth of knowledge was far greater than the wealth of gold and riches. They kept a high order of dark elves in the temple of the sea, an island out of the western shores, most times they conjured up potions of long lasting life and higher mental power, other times they delved into the dark arts. Those dark art Warlocks were taken to the deserts of Falmir, across the see, the only way to civilization from Falmir was to travel North through the desert and reach the River, then follow that until you reach the baron lands of Centrul, the no control zone of the world, dead in front of the Southern Gate.
One night while Jurl and Drondo sat drinking and eating outside the border gates, Drondo was hit with an almighty feeling in his gut, something had happened to his Father, he knew it. See, Giants carry the ability to feel when something has impacted family. Jurl looked up at him,
“Drondo, you alright?”
Drondo slowly looked up to Jurl, “My Father, he’s dead” and he wept and wept for the remainder of the night. Jurl tried to comfort him on many occasions but Drondo had so much emotion going through his mind right now that it was often best to leave Giants to their moments like these.
When Jurl woke he noticed Drondo was hastily packing his things
“You haven’t had breakfast yet Big guy”
Drondo kept packing his stuff “I’m heading North to find out what happened, it’s my duty”
“I can’t come with you Drondo”
“Drondo never asked!” snapped Drondo “Silly Orc, do what you must, Drondo doesn’t need your help”
And with that Drondo raced of heading back to the North
“Rude Giant!” mumbled Jurl, he was more upset he was on his own again, he hated the life of solitude, it reminded him of what was taken from him and his exile.
The voices had started in his head already this morning You should kill your father! Revenge your loved ones death….He shook his head and reached in his backpack for something stronger than water.
“Kazaki, it’s just you and me” he flung his back pack over his shoulder and grabbed his heavy axe and strapped it to his back, ready for quick use. He headed towards the gate, certain that this time they would let him through and he could carry on to Rodon, capital of the South. There he planned to meet up with an old Elven ally called Baronheer, with the hopes he could help him find Kazaki, the wizard of the Shadows.
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