Marakesh enters the square-cut tunnels, with some difficulty, as the ceiling is only about 5″5′ up from the floor. Ahead of him walks the Mountain Dwarves of clan Bulkfire, that had just cleared the road, they seem to have general small talk going between them, about the termors and quakes today, about the size of the boulders. One of them, a younger male dwarf with dreadlocks in his hair and beard, shortly mentions the “fine curves on those two elven lasses”, only to receive a less-than-friendly backhand slap by the female road-worker. Their general talk seems to shift about what they are doing afterwards, they are probably aware that the matters for why an awkward Sun-Elf, are here in a Dwarven Stronghold, is of a higher priority.

Just in front of Marakesh, Muirhon the Clanlord and his daughter Hildryn, the one female Dwarf Fighter, that caught his attention. Muirhon is silent as the rocks around the tunnel, but Hildryn casts the Elf a few look from time to time. Occasionally, the mountains outside tremble from the earthquakes, but the rumors of Broz Kadûr seems to be true; the tunnel does not seem affected by these earthquakes. The walk is long and arduous, the cleanly cut-out tunnel doesn’t change it’s appearance for the next two miles. Suddenly the group step through arch of cut stone, warm, orange light beams through the massive cave that is the stronghold.

The stronghold is made up from layers upon layers of cut stone buildings, carved out of the mountains. The upper levels seems more conventional buildings, similar sizes, scarcely decorated, square-cut homes. Other levels seems to have a market place, with various shops, mostly smithies and gem-workers. Just as Marakesh looks around in this strange, new place, Muirhon finally speaks to Marakesh. The workers have dispersed, and Marakesh now stands alone with the two Dwarves. “Well lad, this is important so I hope that you’ll head my words well. Not all Dwarves here are prepared for the change you’ve brought, and though they know you would only be able to enter, if a Dwarf would let you, they might suddenly feel the urge to call you nasty things. This is simply because change and some Dwarves don’t go well together, but please, do not give them reason to hate you, this is a momentous moment for Broz Kadûr, and, I hope, for the surface world as well. I will need to prepare a few things before I present you before the Council of Clans, it will take some time to call the other Clanlords and our honorable Thane as well.” He stops to look at you and Hildryn, “You can walk around with Hildryn, she’ll keep you out of most harm, and will know where to lead you, when the time comes. Or you two can accompany me to Bulkfire Clan-hall, we’ll go over what’ll happen, you can get some rest and, if required, you two can have some time on your own. I’ll leave the choice to you.”

Marakesh’s silent nature left an awkward moment for all, until Hildryn suggested that it probably was better to head for the clan-hall for now, to which an expected shrug from Marakesh’s shoulders was all the response the Dwarves got. The trio left through to the levels with the great clan-halls of Broz Kadûr, many of the common Dwarves stopped their daily cyklus to see what an Elf was doing here in these halls of stone. Few got close, to which Muirhon had to shield Marakesh, and yell “Aurh-Saman!” an ancient Dwarven phrase that means something along the lines of “Reforge the Old Chain” Of the younger Dwarves around, many looked in wonder, but Muirhon was well-known, and Dwarves respect the Clanlords. However, while keeping Marakesh out of potential harm’s way, Muirhon couldn’t stop an increasingly large group of curious Dwarves from looking, it was hard to hide a more than six foot tall anything amongst the Dwarves.

Once inside the Hall of Clan Bulkfire, Muirhon called a very young Dwarf, short, beige-colored beard strapping his chin. Muirhon handed the younger Dwarf a simple, yet decorative axe. “Bring this to the Thane’s Herald, tell him Aurh-Saman is coming. Clan Bulkfire wishes to call a council.” The young Dwarf nodded and took off. Inside the Clan-hall’s dim-lit rooms, Muirhon wiped his forehead. “It will take a couple of hours, though we should hear the horn of the herald soon.” Muirhon opened a door to a chamber, “You will not be disturbed in here, I will announce when we will be heading for the Council.” With those words, Muirhon closed the door, leaving Marakesh and Hildryn alone. After a moment of awkward silence, Hildryn embraced Marakesh (for as much of him as she could reach), and they proceeded to talk about interests and their lives and adventures, and of their coming life together, and the task they were to accomplish. In the far distance, a deep booming call echoed against the ancient walls.

An hour or two went by, and Muirhon announced that they were leaving for the Council now. The otherwise commonly-dressed elder Dwarf, was now in a polished ceremonial plate armor (that didn’t seem to fit him all that well). In unison, the three began, followed by Bulkfire clan-folk, to move towards the Council. The amount of Dwarves, staring was uncomfortable for Marakesh, but as Hildryn had told him; he would likely have to get used to it, if they were to live amongst other people. The long walk was perhaps meant to be silent, but word had reach Clan Bulkfire and it’s equally minded Dwarves, slow and low at first, but building up in volume and intensity, the Dwarves cheered “Aurh-Saman! Aurh-Saman!”

Upon entering the Council hall, the liveliness of the stronghold outside vanished the same moment the forged steel doors closed behind the last Clanlord to arrive. Finally the Council of Clans was assembled. In the centre of the massive hall, the ceiling nowhere in sight, the walls going up finely carved with faces of former Thanes and heroes. Along a wide, but low stone table sat the seven other Clanlords on heavy-cut stone chairs. Marakesh and Hildryn was, by Muirhon in advance, asked to stand back until called upon. Their very different hands reached one another in the darkness. For the first time since leaving his icy home, Marakesh felt a strange warm and calm feeling rush over him, and if he had looked at Hildryn, he would have seen her rounded cheek go red in a blush.

The Thane’s Herold; an elder, slim (for a resident of Broz Kadûr) Dwarf in a long, dark-green robe, clanked an odd mixture of a staff and a maul against the stone floor. With a clear voice, the Herold announced out, “This Council of the Clans is called by Clanlord Muirhon Bulkfire, son of Orrin Bulkfire and Mardi Copperhelm. Is he present?” Muirhon got up, with some trouble due to the armor, “Aye, Clan Bulkfire is here.” The Herold nodded and continued to address the other Clanlords and Clanlady present, going left from Muirhon; Thurin Hammerhead, Etta Irngrim, Hrolkr Urt-Hedin, Bjorngrim Wolfheart, Zonkir Silvershield, Murdrir Rockaxe and Olfart Goldcrusher. “This Council of the Clans is also basked in the glory of our higness, Thane Kaatbul Platebasher, all please rise in her name.” As if on cue, all the Clanlords and the Clanlady rose and made various bows towards a stone and iron throne. Upon it, in a mithral chain-mail with heavy-set golden pauldrons, sat the Thane. Kaatbul’s long dark-blonde braids held together by thick golden rings, she nodded down to the hall; the Council was now officially started. The Herold spoke again, “Clan Bulkfire have called this Council, for a special reason. Clanlord Muirhon Bulkfire, will you present your case?”

Muirhon got up, cleared his throat shortly, “Fellow lords, and lady, honorable Thane, I’ve called this Council, because of what I, with my very own eyes and with my very own blood, have seen. My fellow lords and lady, Aurh-Saman is upon us!” The other Clanlords began to mumble and talk between one another. Before the Herold could ask for order, Olfart’s raspy voice cut through the air, “So an Elf gave something to one of your kind? Where is this Elf and the item it gave then? Prove to us, that Aurh-Saman is actually here.” Muirhon cocked a wry smile, “I’m glad you asked that, fellow Clanlord. Lad, Hildryn, step forward if you please, and place the item on the table, I’m certain the Clanlords and Clanlady would like to see and feel it for themselves.” Led by Hildryn, Marakesh was almost dragged close to the table, the Clanlords and Lady turned their heads to see, even the Thane seemed to lean forward in her seat, to get a better view. Hildryn placed the Ice Rose, crafted by Marakesh’s magic, on the table in front of the first Clanlord, Thurin Hammerhead. The old Dwarf took the ice flower gingerly into his hands, studied it closely, then passed it to the left. As the Rose had been around the table, the Herold then took the Rose up to the Thane, who seemed to spend the longest time yet, looking the single flower of ice over. With the Herold by her side, she whispered something into his ear.

The small-talk and low-volume arguing stopped, when the Herold clanked his maul-staff down. “Thane Kaatbul Platebasher will speak on this subject now!” Kaatbul stood up from her throne, her majestic braids reaching the floor by her feet. “You, Aelfir, step to me.” Hildryn had to nod Marakesh in the direction of the Thane, but eventually he took the few, for him, steps to the Thane. He felt her eyes resting on him, her voice was calm, but friendly, “You speak our tongue, yes? I see you’re a Zon-Aelfir, not one Ara-Aelfir, not one from a spire. Tell me, what caused you to craft this beautiful item for a Dwarf?” Marakesh seemed to look at his feet, turning his face away from the bright blue eyes of the Dwarven Thane, finally he spoke, “I found her... to be the prettiest creature I had ever set my eyes upon. I felt that I had to express that, and I’m not... great with words.” Marakesh glared apologetically down to Hildryn a little behind him. The Thane nodded apparently also looking at Hildryn’s reaction. “Are you, as an Aelfir, aware of what Aurh-Saman means? You must have heard it a couple of times by now.”

Marakesh told what little he knew, mostly what Muirhon and Hildryn had told him about it. Kaatbul Platebasher nodded slowly, “Then, I ask of you, Zon-Aelfir, by what name shall we, the people of Broz Kadûr, call you by, now that you are a friend of Dwarves here?” Marakesh was hesitant at first, but after a nudge from Hildryn, he stated his full name “I am Marakesh Fen’Harellan.” Meanwhile this conversation went on, the Herold had gone to a back room, now he came back with a bronze slate. On top was in Dwarven runes written “Forging Old Chains Back Together for Eternal Friendship” the Herold held it towards Marakesh, and the Thane spoke again “This slate needs to be taken to the nearest Aelfir settlement, we know of the spire Aerellith north of here, and slightly to the west, from clan Wolfheart, we have learned that the spire is led by a Highlady Ondilgorin. Unfortuneatly we know nothing more of this settlement. What we do know, is that the slate needs the inscription in Aelfir as well in as our Runar, I trust that you will assist our smiths in making the inscription correct.” She turned her attention to Hildryn and Muirhon, “As much as I understand what the love between two people require, I would ask that you carry this task out as soon as you can. My personal armory will provide you with equipment, if needed. This is a large task to take in, but one that will benefit not only Dwarves, but also the surface world in due time.” She sat herself down again, a thoughtful look in her small eyes, she nodded to the Herold, who proceeded to clank his maul-staff down, “That concludes this Council of the Clans, does any Clanlord or Clanlady have any say against what have occurred, should speak up now.” Olfart as the only one looked as if he wanted to end with a final word, but instead kept it to himself.

(written in Thieves’ Cant)

Dear newest associate.

Our flock is small, but we take care of one another. If we work together, we will also all profit. That being said, the Thieves’ Guild have standards, these have been had for generations, and it has kept us hidden so far. As Hand-man for the Guild, I see no reason to change these traditions.

Obviously, we do not steal from family. Jealousy leads to greed, greed leads to violence. These are things a family shouldn’t face. On behalf of the Guild, I ask that you think about your targets, stealing from those with few coins makes no sense. It is also risky as people on the verge have nothing to lose.

For you initiation, the Guild have a special task that you can carry out as a team, or as a single person. An assortment of wares are stranded, however, they are set in full 5 by 5 ft crates, it would take the strength of a Giant and more luck than Avandra have ever bestowed upon someone, to move the boxes to safety. Instead you will need to mark down the crates that we seek, there are three in total. The mark you are to place, is a three fingered hand; the mark of the Guild. Our people will know to pick it up later. The type of crate is pretty common, so you’ll probably have to look through multiple crates. I shouldn’t need to say this, but searching through crates is going to cast suspicion on you. In case someone should make you out, get out as fast as you can, the Guild have provided you with some standard gas-bombs.

If you are caught, you can consider yourself as leaving the family, the Thieves’ Guild DOES NOT do jailbreaks.

To all members of the Catacrach City Guard, Haddorn Dockyards.

As you may have heard, the city have had some trouble with counterfeit wares, namely shipments of jewelry, that turned out to be much lighter or much heavier than they were supposed to, gems made of glass, painted crowns and tiaras. Now, if people were aware of these items being illegitimate, things would not be a problem. However, it seems that someone in the Marrow got their undergarments on wrong, when they found out their “priceless” jewelries were fake. That someone then took it to our colleagues in the Marrow, and eventually it became a mission for all districts handling wares, to stop this.

I personally believe it to be a waste of the guard’s time, especially if the reports out of Daaze’s Walk, about increased Thieves’ Guild activity, are true. But, an order is an order. On a more serious note, guards from Henjathi Theater have reported potential shipments of the highly addictive Liquid Courage. As you know, the Council have deemed the substance illegal, as it damages people’s free will and ability to think for themselves, Mind-wiper Juice, as some have taken to call it. So far, only small amounts have been recovered by the Henjahti Theater guards, but our sources believe a larger shipment may arrive any day now. This is easier to do by barge, as we cannot be expected to check every single crate and barrel coming through.

However, I have reached out to the Commander and to the Council on this matter. To our luck, the Council have emitted a month-long special law. This allows us to search any and all cargo, if there’s reasonable suspicion present. Suspicion includes crates or barrels (or other containers) oddly by themselves, marked containers, individuals guarding or inspecting the crates. We are also permitted to search persons, for the sake of identifying and confiscating shipments or even bottles of Liquid Courage. We are NOT allowed to search individuals for the false jewelry though. Another hitch, is that for any search that turns out empty-handed, the guard have to offer 10 gp as compensation. If the jewelry is found, a patrol is to seize the area, and call for back-up using the signal horns assigned to each patrol.

Sailing the Drunhollow is a slow and arduous task, as ships designed for going fast, such as sloops and galleys, would get stuck on the muddy banks and shallows of the Drunhollow. In some places, there’s less than 3 ft of water from the surface down to the mud. The Drunhollow is also prone to flooding over it’s shores, in some areas like the flat, open Onnich Plains between Abhelm and Catacrach, that means that river becomes one with the rest of the landscape. Another point against the use of fast ships, is that they rely heavily on wind. To move a boat by wind, it requires a sail, and a sail requires a mast. Unfortunately most of the bridges crossing the river are low-arched creations of stone, so anything taller than 10 ft would likely hit the bridges along the river’s flow.

Instead the Drunhollow is sailed by barges, gondolas and row-boats. Barges haul surprisingly large amounts of good from the southern regions, with most of them heading to Catacrach. Even where the Drunhollow is at it’s most narrow places, three barges can easily pass eachother at the same time. Barge crews are expected to be strong, able to move the larger shipments, as well as staking the barge out of a bank of mud and forward into the water. Gondolas are much smaller and slimmer than barges, not meant for wares any larger than they can be held by a person. Rather the gondolas freight people, acting as ferries. It’s safer to travel south by the Drunhollow, than on the Ivory Road, even if it is slower and more expensive. A particular route is transporting nobles and wealthy individuals from Catacrach to the pompous, monthly balls at Applewatch Estate, though you have to get an invitation if you want to enter. Row-boats are more common near Coolelool in the south, here they are used by fishermen to catch some of the many edible fish, that call the waters their home.

From it’s source at Coolelool lake, the Drunhollow runs past several docks and smaller piers.

Coolelool. The stilt-town in the middle of the lake, many of the barges are build here, and it’s an important trade-hub for many southern parts of Fellmir.

De Caballier estate. One of the highest praised vineyards in Fellmir, a single De Cabal bottle cost around 70 gp. It started as a small private pier, but increased export of the priced wine, caused the De Caballier to buy workers to fortify and strengthen the pier to an actual dock-site. W.

Lethillith. Small village of mostly fishermen, the huts and houses are Elven in architecture. A wooden stilt-bridge makes the first land-based crossing point across the river. With no trade routes of note, the wooden piers aren’t well suited for barges. W.

Ston-gar. After nearly a day on the river, you’d finally reach the first landing on the eastern bank. Ston-gar was originally built by Hill Dwarves, settling due to the nearby hills being rich in both quarried stone and several miscellaneous ores. For those travelling light, and for the barges that aren’t in a hurry, Ston-gar is the first stop where wares, other than wine, are hauled onto or off of barges. A dirt road leads north-east towards Dalb. E.

Torshridge. The stone bridge across the river, just north of Torshridge, is an example of making sure measurements are correct, before you finish building. When the bridge stood finished, it is only wide enough for a single person (or a very skilled rider on a horse) to cross. At first the bridge was meant to enter into the embankment below the ridge, where Torshridge is built, but the bridge is built over the town and onto the top of the ridge. Torshridge’s location means little trade, and though fortified, the pier is shorter than most barges. W.

Boulderhead. Once a larger outpost for the Abborgardian Empire, but as the news of Abborgard’s Fall, more than half of the citizens left. For a long time the city stood mostly empty, the former mansions going into various states of disrepair. However, after a roaming band of vagabonds, known as the Bucklands, arrived, the city have been returning to normal. Boulderhead is on of the oldest docks along the Drunhollow, built in the same marble like stone that was the mark of Abborgard. W.

Tyllonwyrth. The first town, from the south. Originally two small villages on either side of the river, Tyllon and Wonwyrth. With the assistance of Abborgard, a bridge with trading in mind was built, connecting the two villages as one. Abborgard also helped enforcing the docks on both sides. Tyllon have a smaller road leading out to the Ivory Road, and road towards Cyndarr from Wonwyrth was also started, this however was around the fall of Abborgard, and the road was never really completed, brave merchants sometimes take this route though.

Applewatch manor. Unlike De Caballier manor, Applewatch doesn’t have a large stock of wares to sell, so the pier isn’t built to be used by barges. The torches and lanterns are always on, as nobles from south and north come to Applewatch to make business deals. The gondolas, run by Applewatch’s own people, make the trips several times a week. W.

Reikwâer. The smallest of the Cyndillian cities, and last port before Catacrach from the south. From Coolelool the journey by the river takes about four days to Catacrach, three if the vessel makes no stops, as it’s often nighttime or late evening, and Catacrach doesn’t allow barges in before sunrise. Because of this, many barges halt at Reikwâer, though often not for trade, rather just for sailors to get some shut-eye and maybe a meal. E.

Catacrach (Haddorn Dockyards). Two enormous iron portcullis, spanning the entire river, closes off access for barges after sunset. During daytime the dockyards are bristling with life and trade, Catacrach is the only city, along with Drummoch, that employs ware haulers. Anywhere else, the moving of wares is carried out by ship crew and people employed by the merchants.

Absel Landing. The dock-site for Abhelm, in it’s time, the mages used to visit here often, and a small village started to sprout near the quay. Since Abborgard’s Fall, the village have been mostly abandoned, though treasure hunters to Abhelm often land here. W.

Vull Thrazbur. Hill Dwarven logging camp on the south-western edge of the Flyntwick Woods, the largest forest in Fellmir. Though Dwarves aren’t known for their carpentry skills, they are known for mastering axes. Utilizing the massive forest to send barges of lumber up and down the river.

Awoken in the middle of the night by something opening the window to the room, in which you and Nyrrah were sleeping. You grab the first weapon you can find and prepare yourself. But then you hear a low, familiar whisper. “Dragonborn, it’s me, Wilros.”

Wilros is a strange, Half-Elf, character from your past, you know that he have been working with and for the various Thieves Guilds for some years, but if there’s a bounty out on someone from the guild, Wilros would be quick to betray them. He is currently dressed in dark crimson leather coat, with a hood and mask that only gives a view to his emerald green eyes. He isn’t really a friend or a mentor, but he apparently knew one of your parents, which seems to be why he has continued to, from time to time, give you information about low-tier bounty hunts. To you, Wilros isn’t much of a fighter, he prefers the work of the shadows and darkness, and only ever carries a dagger for his own protection.

You lower your weapon slightly, you are not sure that Wilros would hesitate to go after you, if there were to be a bounty on your head. Looking over to the other bed you see Nyrrah the Tiefling appearing to be sleeping sound, her bandages, after the fight with the Dretches, still lay on her wounds. Wilros speaks again, in his normal low voice, “I have found a bounty for you in Catacrach, and this is something big. An easy task though; Half-Orc merchant who have gotten herself up against the Thieves Guild in Catacrach. Here’s the catch; the authorities suspect that this Half-Orc is a smaller part in a larger smuggling ring, tied to the Thieves Guild. They have placed an agent in amongst the dock-workers, in hope to find counterfiet goods. If you can manage to find evidence of this, or clear the merchant’s name entirely, there’s plenty of gold to be had. I have two horses ready, I’ll tell more on the way there.”

Wilros have never given you bad information before, and you’ve usually been able to earn quite well, on the jobs that you completed. Getting into your gear, and collecting your stuff, quietly not to wake Nyrrah up, you climb out the window and down the robe that Wilros used to climb up. The horses seems impatient, making a tiny steps where they stand. As you begin to ride, Wilros speaks again, “I’ve paid off the townsguard at the gate, he’ll let us through.” And, almost like a clockwork, you ride out through the open gates.

Leaving Cyndarr behind, you ask Wilros if he have a plan already. “I do, since there are multiple ways that you can do this. I would suggest checking the dockyards first. The Catacrach guard don’t check the barges nearly as well as wagons. By investigating the dockyard, you should be able to find out if this merchant is really doing anything illicit or not. That should probably be your first objective.”

Riding through the small settlement of Bix in the middle of the night, you half expect some of the guards to stop you, but no-one in the small community seems to care. The high walls of Catacrach rise with small orange dots, torches, in the west, as you get closer. “I’ll work on laying out a smokescreen, to keep both Thieves and Guards off of your back. The agent for the authorities is a different story, you’re going to deal with him or her on your own.” Wilros pauses for a second, “You might want to refrain from killing the agent, it would be unfortunate to get negative attention now.”

Arriving at the massive gates the guards ask you both to dismount, Wilros have pulled the face-covering mask down in time, to avoid seeming too suspicious. “Any wares or things to declare? I am sorry to have to ask, but I’m afraid we’ve seen an increase, in people trying to bring illegal items into the city. You’re allowed to keep your weapons, but we ask that you keep them holstered. Enjoy your stay in Catacrach.” Two other guards shift through your saddle-bags, but finding nothing of interest, they both shake their heads and you continue into the city.

You enter a large district. Here newly built mansions and smaller keeps stand side by side, with small, well-kept gardens out front. The street is very clean and this seems to be a district for people with quite some wealth and influence to their name, yet you don’t see many of the crests that typically don the doors and facades of nobility. The guard patrols here isn’t nearly as active, but you also spot what you reckon to be mercenaries, guarding various mansions. While the thought of easy and large amounts of wealth does speak to you, there is also a cold, almost soulless feeling that sort of drapes through this district. Wilros speaks very silently, and almost surprises you, as he had been silent since you’ve entered, “We’re entering the dockyards through the next gate,” he points ahead towards another of the inner city walls, with another heavy set wooden door, “I suggest we split up quickly after we enter. Look along the peers, there should be stacks of crates with wares, waiting to be hauled further into the city.” You look at Wilros, and ask, “And where can I find you?” The Half-Elf gives you one of his typical mysterious smiles, “Hopefully, you can’t. But, if things really go south and you need me, I’ll keep base at the inn in the far north, on the other side of the river. It’s called the Salted Wharf, but I trust you knowing not to ask for me directly.”

As said, Wilros splits from you, heading north from the gate. The smell of fish, smoked, salted and mostly fresh, stings slightly in your Dragonborn nostrils. The district is significantly smaller in area compared to the previous one, but there also aren’t as many buildings around; much of the district is essentially peers and dockland, with storage for wares, until they are moved to other parts of the city. In the south and northern ends of the city, where the river runs through the walls, access is blocked for the night by massive iron portcullises. A couple of flat barges lay moored by the peers, and you notice some primitive, but sturdy looking cranes standing by small, rounded foundations. There isn’t much activity out here in the open, but a few tavern-like buildings sends out a cozy, orange light from the windows.

You spend maybe an hour or so studying the patrol routes and how often they occur, you also remember to look for the individual, the agent, that Wilros spoke of, but nothing seems to catch your eye, and you don’t feel like you’re being observed. The peer seems empty and devoid of life. If there is an agent here, said person is even stealthier than Wilros. You remind yourself to stay alert. You manage to, through deduction and smell, scout out three areas where valuable goods are almost certainly stored. As the sun begins to rise upon Fellmir, you prepare to search the wares.

A single reinforced crate surrounded by barrels, in the shade of one of the cranes.

A series of similar looking crates, stacked in five small towers of various height.

Three crates in a line on one of the barges.

Through the story of Fellmir, Giants have always been a sore spot for those who sought a peaceful life. While the Giants mostly are found in the north-western Fellmir, their raiding parties often reach far, and the damage done shows. The western area, known as Grunnmr, is almost entirely inhabited by Giants, and is considered as the most dangerous place to live, even more hazardous than the Salt Fields and the Ice Wastes. Smaller incursions and uprisings have been recorded, but in general only three of these, are considered as outright wars.

The First War - years 216 - 124, Before Civilization (B.C.)

It was never written anywhere that a Human named Karan, would end up leading the first insurrection against the brutal rule of the Giants. Karan earned his living by stealing and mugging people. While serving time in prison, the complex was attacked and overrun by Hill Giants, who slaughtered and ate most of the guards and other prisoners. Escaping to an upper part, along with a wounded guard and another prisoner, the group found the commander for the Giants along with five other Giants in the stable, killing the guardsmen’s horses. The three barred the door and burned the stable down, with the Giants stiil inside it. Thus began the tale of Karan the Flame, people revered him as a hero, and Karan found his new lifestyle to be safer than stealing. Known for his shrewd tactics, Karan was said to, in disguise, visit the foot soldiers and low ranked fighters. Claiming to be “just another man-at-arms”, Karan got insight in how commanders before had used the low ranked units as cannon fodder against the large stones, hurled by Giants in combat. Karan’s philosophy of war was simple; minimize losses so that most warriors are up for the next fight. Many officers considered this to be cowardly, but the common soldier revered him. With this tactic he slowly managed to wrestle territory from the Giants, even building small fortresses and fortified outposts to maintain his position. Karan was getting old, a leg injury had taken it’s toll on him, no longer able to take charge, but Karan’s closest officers led the army by his example. A few days before Karan died, he received a strange visitor. Clad in golden scales, but with no weapons, the legendary Elven general, Delvinerre, sought an audition. Karan thought he was dreaming, but the Elf was real. A friendship began between Humans and Elves after this day. Karan died about a week later, and was burned on a massive pile. Karan himself wished no monument, claiming that his past was still clinging to him, if people would just remember his deed as a commander and his name as such, then that would be the only monument he could ever ask for.

Karan’s tactics were part of the reason why the first war almost lasted a hundred years, clearing out large parts of central and northern Fellmir of Giants, and even today, Hill Giants are a rare sight in the north. Frost Giants are more common, though they mostly reside of the other, frozen side of the Ebonheart Mountains. The First War caused bad blood between Hill Giants and Frost Giants, as the Frost Giants were among the first to seek a peaceful life, even giving up their weapons for safe passage north. However it is widely believed that, had Karan rushed his armies, his need for troops and the losses amongst the ranks, would have risen significantly. Amongst the greatest of Karan’s battles was a skirmish against one of the most notorious and dangerous warlords amongst the Giants; Gemalog Red-Fist.

The Second War - years 1 - 23, Abborgardian Year (A.Y.)

The second war began as a group of mages (along with a large army of foot soldiers), marched upon the lands of Grunnmr, where Giants had their homeland and strongholds, not even degenerate generals like Shollstan of Sidara had dared going far into this mostly plain and open land. With only few forests and mountains, the armies would be out in the open. And the Giants here were dug down. One thing was fighting Giants on open ground, a completely different one, was to fight Giants with defensive means and materials. The arrival of the mages significantly changed the tide of battle, as their leader was none other than Abboran Knodd, who would found the Abborgardian Empire after the Battle of Grunnmr. Like Karan, Abboran believed in making the public’s opinion, and thus support of the armies, despite pushing far into Grunnmr, Abboran felt the luck of war changing, and ordered an exhausted and battered army to return. Many felt betrayed, but fact is that many able-bodied people were in the army, had the army been defeated, the central Fellmir would have been next to defenceless, and the Giants were ruthless in their vengeance. A smirch of dishonor was still clinging to them after the first loss.

Instead of building a new army, Abboran decided to strengthen the defenses, letting the Giants come. Several clashes back and forth over the next years did little to change the power-balance, but most of them ended with a victory over the Giants. After more than twenty years of battle, the Giants too faced exhaustion and great losses, no longer receiving reinforcements and make very little to no progress defeating their foes. For a long time, the Giants were licking their wounds, and peace reigned in Fellmir once more.

The Third War - years 481 - 518, Abborgardian Year

For nearly five-hundred years, no-one saw or heard much from the Giants. But suddenly the hills west of Abhelm became dark, line upon line of Giants, with massive iron weapons, siege engines and even their own Shamans. The Giants were coming to fight, and this time, it would be a final fight. Many cities and fortifications had already fallen, quicker than word could reach Abhelm. The siege itself lasted for six long and grueling years, but Abhelms walls stood firm. Meanwhile mages and legendary warriors from afar came swarming to fight the Giants. Many heroes fell, and it’s said that the hills were crimson with blood for the next several months. Finally an army from the south, consisting of Tielfing, Dragonborn, Aarakocra, Kenku and Tabaxi forces liberated Abhelm, by splitting the largest of the Giant armies, getting the slow and stupid Giants to follow this new threat, only to fall into ambushes near Fokal Jungle. The natural habitat of many of the races in this distraction army became the death of several thousand Giants, wandering into the jungle, but almost never out again.

With the main army of the Giants now weakened, and with Dwarven Siege engines pummeling the shores of Grunnmr, slowly but surely the Giants was pushed back, taking heavy losses in almost any struggle. Before perishing to a Fireball, High Shaman Dukkûr, swore to return, with a new army of Giants. His swear, it’s said, should have been something along the lines of “Wait, O foe, belittle and foul, for Grunnmr will rise, and Grunnmr’s folk will rise, no safe place shall ye find, no wisdom of this battle shall you have!”

Most cities have little in common, other than the same coin-types, languages and their understanding of time. While the months, weeks and days may wary, the years are all used in the same way; as all were under Giant rule when the calendars started.

B.C. (Before Civilization) The B.C. calendar is the earliest one (though Mountain Dwarves have recorded dates way before this), it counts downwards, which sometimes can confuse those not great with numbers (or books), but the B.C. calendar ends with 1, where it starts is unclear, as not many things still stand from the time before the Giants. Most significant occurrence was the start of the First War against the Giants, starting with Karan's rebellion in 216 B.C.

A.Y. (Abborgardian Year) Sometimes the abbreviation AoA is also used in it's sted (Age of Abborgard) Where the time before civilization ends, the time of the magocracy known as Abborgard begins. Until the rise of the mages, most fighting had been just that, and only through tactics and numbers, had the armies of Humans, Gnomes and Halflings been able to make any progress. With the use of magic, the battles suddenly became a lot easier, and a final succes was had at the Battle of Grunnmr, where a vast Giant army, led by Cromm the Warlord, fell. This marks the year 1 A.Y. The time of Abborgard was one of peace and prosperity, as the mages enabled trade from the northern territories to the southern lands, inviting Tiefling and Dragonborn into centrall Fellmir. The Abborgardian calendar ended on 605 A.Y., the 13th of Highsun, with Abborgard's Collapse.