Kingdom History

A History of the Kingdom of Valterra

Long ago, in the time before Men reached this shore, indeed in the time before there were Men, a mighty empire stood upon this land. Legend says it was the empire of the Firstborn, the race that came before the Elves and Dwarves and Men. Of that time little is known, and what is known is this: In the last days of the Firstborn there came a great war against an enemy so foul that even the legends dare not speak its name. The foe was defeated, but at the cost of the destruction of the empire and the Firstborn themselves; a cost they willingly bore, so great was the evil they fought. The eroded ruins of their cities still dot the land, but alas their weathered stones do not speak.

It is said that the Elves and Dwarves and Men were spawned by the Firstborn to carry on their legacy, and were given Dragonkind to guard over them until they grew strong enough to survive in the world. For at first they were few in number, and had not learned to make fire or weapons or towns or walls. It came to pass that the Elves stayed in the forests and jungles on the west side of the Sea, and the restless Men wandered far and wide, to founded the Iron Empires east of the Sea and the Fangorn Empire far to the west of the Troth mountains, beyond the grasslands and the Endless Wastes and the Sea of Maelstorms. The Dwarves, too wandered far but at a slower pace (because of their shorter legs, or so it is said), and finding the fertile valleys occupied by Men, took up residence in all the mountains of the world. This all happened ages ago, long before Men or Elves or Dwarves wrote down their histories, and it is said that we know it only from the Dragons who have long since departed from this land.

Ages later, Turin the Warhammer, a prince of a land called Ironbrand in the East, landed upon this shore, near what is now the city of Rockspere. That was in the year 1 of the present Age. Turin found a land filled with Dragons and their Elven thralls, all sorry remnants of whatever glorious version of those races once populated the land. Turin and his mighty band carved out a Kingdom for themselves by smiting the Elves and Dragons in the land of Surland. For twelve years they traveled throughout that land and smote the Dragons and took the Elves in thrall until the land was theirs, but the Dragons still vexed them.

Then Turin said "We will not have peace in our homes until the Dragons are driven from this land" and so he started a war against the Dragons in their mountain lairs. For four times forty years he fought them, till the last Dragon was defeated in the year 172 and there were no more Dragons east of the Great Wastelands beyond the Troth Mountains.

Now Turin had twelve sons, to each of whom he granted a different part of the lands he now ruled. For twelve times forty years there was peace among them. They dined at each other's Feast Halls. But then one day Turin said "I am old, and soon will join the gods in their Mead Halls. It is time that I choose a worthy successor to take my crown."

Now most wise men say that even in those days, warriors were not mighty enough to live 652 years. Rather they say that this Turin was really the tribe that Turin had brought with him from across the sea, and that the twelve sons were twelve new tribes that founded the twelve dukedoms that today make up our Kingdom, and that the tribe of Turin had fallen upon hard times and could no longer rule. Why this was so is not known, but some say that the land of Surland where they lived was once far more fertile than it is today, but became dry.

So it is said that Turin organized a race for his twelve sons. He called upon them to assemble at the capital, which was at Rockspere in those days, each riding his finest steed. And he said, "I am old, and soon will join the gods in their Mead Halls. It is time that I choose a worthy successor to take my crown. You, my sons, are to mount your steeds and run a great race, all the way to the frontier outpost of Mormont in the northernmost tip of our Kingdom." And so they ran their great race, stopping in every town along the way to hold great jousts to impress each other and the local knights with their prowess. When at last they rode into Mormont many fortnights later, Forlin the youngest was in the lead, and received the crown from his father’s hand, who died that evening. Thus the crown passed in the year 652. And thus in every twelfth year Turin's great race is commemorated among the knights of the land

But the victory by the youngest sowed the seeds of envy in his older peers, especially the firstborn, Carstan, who believed the throne to be rightly his. And so Carstan plotted against Forlin, and soon each of the twelve dutchies took to fighting one another, and the one Kingdom was sundered into twelve. And so it continued through the reigns of the twelve sons, and of their sons, and the sons of their sons, as one kingdom fought and conquered another, then was conquered by third, while a fourth sundered the first from it, and so on and forward until the coming of Borgon the Bold. That was in the year 1281.

Borgon was born of the hedge knight Proud and his wife Mylee, who was, and is, the Goddess of War. How such a marriage came to be is another tale for another time. Suffice it to say that Mylee, Goddess of War, looked with favor upon her son, and granted him boons from birth even though he grew up as an orphan, abandoned to the wolves by Sarell, a minor but vain and jealous god who slew hedge knight Proud and briefly tricked Mylee into running off to battle Paragon, the god of Justice, but was himself turned into a footstool of granite by Mylee herself, who was, after all, the Goddess of War and not to be trifled with. But that, once again, is another tale for another time.

Suffice it to say that Borgon was rescued from the wolves by the dragon Firebrand, and brought up by Dragonkind far to the west, beyond the Barbarian Forests and the Grasslands and the Great Wastes and the Sea of Maelstorms and the Empire of Fangorn, in the mountains where the last of the Dragonkind dwell. There he was taught the use of magic by the Dragons, and taught the arts of war by the First Warrior of Fangorn, and the art of Kingship by the Emporer of Fangorn. When he came of age he rode upon the back of Firebrand to the town of Northron, there to gather an army of might from among the Northmen to smite the other eleven kingdoms and take the throne of Turin.

And this he did, smiting the other eleven kingdoms and their wicked rulers, and the Elves and Dwarves and the Pirates of the lands across the Sea who had encroached upon them, and he united the land. This took a mere seven years, so great was his might.

By this Mylee was pleased, for she knew that a great and united Kingdom was needed in the times of troubles to come. Borgon did not make the mistake of his ancestor Turin. He named his eldest son as successor, and decreed that the eldest son of every eldest son thereafter would rule the Kingdom, unless there were no sons, in which case the eldest daughter would rule as Queen, if given leave to ascend the Throne by the councils.

And then there came a time of peace lasting 12 times 20 years, but a peace in which the Elves, having been driven out of their ancient lands, and despite the fact that Turin had delivered them from their Thralldom to the Dragons and ultimately released them from his own Thralldom, held councils among the Great Trees of Eluhan, and the Forests of the West, and the Jungles to the South, saying "Who amongst us is mighty enough to drive the Men from the lands and forests of our forefathers?" But none amongst them came forward.

And Mylee, seeing that the Elves and Dwarves and Humans of this land had become complacent and weak, worried that none of them would be ready to face the trials that lie ahead. And so she began to vex them and goad them into fighting with one another. Thus the Elves began to plot with the Pirates and the Men beyond the Sea to aid them in their coming fight against the Kingdom.

But then Paragon the god of Justice intervened, and convinced Mylee that Elves and Dwarves and Men must prepare themselves to work as one against a great evil to come. And thus they both vexed the Pirates and Men from across the sea to attack all of the West, Elves and dwarves and Men alike, and for four times twelve years they attacked them, with ships and alchemists fire and crakens and great bears upon which they rode, even into the Fairlands, and the mountain homes of the Dwarves, until at last the races of the West all banded together, even the Barbarians to the West of the Troth Mountains, to fight the menace from across the Sea. And the invaders were repelled and drowned in the Sea.

And the elves and dwarves and Men all said: "Let us never be weak again. Let us dedicate our temples to Mylee and Paragon, and hone our mighty armies with jousts during times of peace, so that they will be forever ready for war, and will war on the side of justice."

And so there came a time of seventy times ten years of peace in the West, and the land prospered while the empires of the East crumbled, but alas all began to forget their Oaths. Castles were left to crumble and jousts turned to drunken revelries, the Elves and Dwarves and Men began to keep their own council and they once again began to grumble one against the other. The armies, though formidable, became things to occupy the pompous vainglory of idle nobles. The priestesses in the temples to Mylee found true champions hard to come by, and many in desperation admitted vainglorious lower nobles who were champions only in the gambling halls. The knights and nobles once pledged to Paragon, mighty paladins all, began to serve masters named lucre and lust and power, while the cadre mages, who could once summon armies of Battle Demons, frittered away their hours trying to turn common metals to gold. And many said that the patron gods of the land were not pleased.

And then a scant four seasons ago, there came rumblings from the West, beyond the Po River, northwest of the trading town of Mormont. The former petty squabblings amongst the hundreds of tribes of the forests and plains, which had formerly never come closer than the portage city of Valaris, spilled over into the Po Valley, and the city of Valaris itself was taken by Morlan Karsag, a great warlord from the western plains. Refugees from the peaceful forest tribes streamed into the trading outpost of Mormont, seeking settlement or passage, while raids along the flanks of the Po Valley by their bolder bretheren threatened the free farmers just outside the frontier.

And so we reach the present year, when Ser Alexander Praxis has been sent to Mormont with a force of many hundred to shore up the ancient and crumbling Mormont Castle and stem the chaos brewing beyond the Northern Marches. The sudden flux of events and threat of war has vastly altered trading relations to the west and brought ruin for some, opportunity for others, and attracted ruffians and adventurers of all kinds to the formerly sleepy town. What the future holds is, as always, unknown. Most say the situation will quickly be brought under control, as have countless barbarian uprisings in the past, but some seers peer into their bowls and see the great evils that Mylee and Paragon foretold, brewing far to the West, beyond the Troth Mountains and the Barbarian Forests and the Grasslands and the Great Wastes and the Sea of Maelstorms.