Darblefar sighed wearily and looked around a deserted tavern. It’s been ages since there was any luxurious and long-lasting party being thrown at his old, yet cozy place. As for himself, he wasn’t young anymore. Besides, he was tired of this monotonous life. Once there used to be clattering of dishes and overflowed cups heard all over the place, typically mixed with the clash of impassioned fellows’ shields and axes. When he was a child, he often had a fortune of witnessing spectacular victory celebrations of the experienced and strong dwarves who came back from their long journeys. Their small-numbered, still tough race protected distant settlements from frequent raids of Orcs. The latter were strong but too dumb to realize technological advances of the handy dwarves. Orcs’ evil leaders were roaring of their helplessness under the fire of canister shot while their shamans were calling to their either demigods or demi-demons and were screaming out in excruciating pain being captured in elaborate traps of this small dwarf people.
Those days the lands of their Kingdom Fragvard stretched far beyond the foothills of Mountfore and occupied the western part of the Great Eimolad. Dwarves have never been religious but they worshipped the element of the Earth, built mines and extracted natural resources. They studied blacksmithing and technical professions. There were no better craftsmen in the whole Great Eimolad and dwarves carried on successful trading both with elves and humans. Only stupid orcs, dwarves’ arch-enemies, still couldn’t acknowledge the importance of the technological progress and so kept leading their primitive way of life.
After the long period of internecine wars, the fragile peace has finally prevailed. Humans, the weakest and the most unadjusted creatures who do not worship any god and are protected by none of the elements, have taken the possession of the secret knowledge by deceit and in so doing have taken dominion over the entire Great Eimolad. They forced orcs to run away to the North and dwarves to flee towards the western mountains of Mountfore while elves, being covered with the Wind and Water magic, escaped into the southern fertile lands.
Suddenly, all those Darblefar’s reminiscences got interrupted by a sound of a door opened violently through which a wounded elf who was barely able to stand up firmly came falling into the room. The whole scene was so bizarre as normally the Water magic that elves were so skilled in was supposed to heal them in to time. Yet, with great difficulty, the elf made his way to a bar counter and leaned all over it. There was an expression of an unspeakable horror in his eyes, so unnatural for members of his dignified race.
“They’re here,” was all he said.
