Greater Faydark

Centuries before the elves' migration from Antonica – then known as Tunaria – pixies, brownies and other magical creatures of the fay called this shady, lush wilderness home. Today, these creatures continue to inhabit the area in reluctant co-existence with the elven emigrants, even though most of the fay relocated to the lesser region of Faydark as the elven influx intensified. Still, it is not altogether uncommon for pixies and fae drakes to still be seen lurking about the woodland of the elves.

Although the elves have dedicated themselves to the preservation of this calm, dark wilderness, the fay are wary of any mortal being. The race of pixies, who can be less forgiving than their fay brethren, have made it known to the elves on several occasions, through non-violent and highly annoying or intrusive pranks, that their presence is not particularly welcome. This mild tension between the pixies and elves continues to exist, although neither side has deemed the other a true nemesis.

The large, shadowy forest, is comprised of both coniferous beauties and evergreen giants. The gates to Felwithe, the home of the Koada`Dal, lie upon the western borders of this expansive woodland, while the great Fier`Dal city of Kelethin rests atop the eastern forest's canopy. A thin, winding trail leads from Kelethin's base and branches out to the neighboring regions of the Lesser Faydark to the northwest and the southwestern mountains of Butcherblock, easing travel for the unfamiliar adventurer.

However, the elves are not the only emigrants to have settled in this area, for the orcs of Crushbone inhabited a small portion of the northern area of the woods but a few short decades before the elves' arrival. The elves have engaged in constant battle with the hostile Crushbone clan since the construction of both Felwithe and Kelethin began – a struggle that rages on to this day. Small outposts and camps of orcs have been established in the northern corner of the woods, just beyond the gates of the Crushbone citadel. This citadel has become the primary focus of both the high and woodland elves as they struggle to defend their precious, beloved woods from the infestation of these plague-worshiping orcs.

A collection of the decrees of his most royal highness, the supreme ruler of all the Faydark and eternal lord of Crushbone Keep.

by Emperor D'Vinn

Long has it been our happy privilege to lead Clan Crushbone in our war against the lesser races of Faydwer. Our orcish legions bravely charge into the forefront of battle, overwhelming our enemies with brutality and might.

As the gods ordained in ages past, the Teir'Dal have overseen the expansion of our empire. Orcs serve as the arm that strikes our enemies down, bravely following our leadership and wisdom. As is written in the scrolls of the Prophet, orcs were created to serve the Teir'Dal Empire.

There are heretics who arise within our ranks from time to time and challenge this sacred bond between Teir'Dal and orc. All faithful members of Clan Crushbone are required to report such insurgency at once so that they may be swiftly dealt with.

Our victory over the light elves is inevitable. Most of these accursed foes have been driven out of our forest. They are a shadow of that they once were, due solely to our victories in battle.

But as of late a new menace has arisen from the lowest corners of the Faydark, a weak race calling itself the Fae. Because they have lent aide to light elves in their rebuilding of Kelethin, the Fae are our enemies as well.

Long ago, the elves say, before even they walked this land, all of Faydwer was a single great forest that stretched from shore to shore, covering all the land. The trees were great and fair, their trunks smooth as silk and leaves golden.

This was the Suntouched Forest, so named because the sun’s light suffused every inch, turning the bark to gold and the leaves to fire, and covering the spaces between the trees with a thick carpet of golden-green grass. Animals lived here peacefully, and trees and bushes provided fruit and nuts enough for all.

Though the elves had not yet arrived in the Suntouched, the forest was not devoid of intelligent life, for here dwelt the Woodkine, an ancient race. Tall as giants, they were not cast in flesh — instead the Woodkine were great plants, their skin like that of the trees and their hair and beards like leaves and vines. The Suntouched was their home and their charge, and the Woodkine wandered it freely, tending to plants and animals alike and ensuring that the forest prospered. These gentle creatures were one with the land, and could move swiftly through even the densest thicket — some say they swung from tree branches rather than setting foot on the ground, and others that they leapt from bough to bough.

Certainly the Woodkine possessed powerful magic, yet it was magic of the land, a power focused on healing, growth, and assistance. These creatures, to hear the elves speak of them, were akin to gods, but without any arrogance — their lives belonged to the Suntouched, and all their actions were intended to aid the forest and its inhabitants. Then the Dark came to Faydwer.

No one knows how or why the darkness arrived, but suddenly the sun vanished from the sky, hidden behind heavy clouds for weeks on end. With the shadows came creatures the Suntouched had never known, ogres and orcs and trolls, dark creatures full of hate and malice and greed.

To them the Suntouched was a rich land waiting to be plundered, and they tore into it, chopping down trees to build forts and slaughtering animals for both food and amusement. They landed first in the south, and soon much of the southern portion of the forest had been cut down, leaving only stumps and grass where once had stood ancient groves.

The Woodkine were initially horrified, then angered. The land was under their protection, and for the first time these gentle creatures deliberately sought to do harm. First they struck against the intruders, knocking them aside with powerful limbs and crushing them under splayed feet. To their enemies, it seemed as if the trees themselves were attacking, and they fled to the areas they had already cut down, seeking safety amid the stumps and the darkened sky. But the Woodkine’s terrible anger, slow to build, was equally slow to abate. Yes, they had driven the intruders out, but their precious forest had been violated, and large portions of it destroyed. This could not be allowed to happen again.