The Deep

The Brink: home of the dwarves, a place of vast caves, underground lakes and rivers, and some Underborn.
The Deep: A place of labyrinthine tunnels, entered by the dread gate Helgrind, underground seas, huge flora, deadly fauna, and enormous caverns and home of the Underborn Hordes and a variety of beasts.
The Underborn:
Draohyn: slight Underborn serving as specialized raiders.
Gorrlocs: a small, Underborn.  Called goblins by the fey, thurrlocs, elite gorrlocs, are called hobgoblins by the fey.
Orcs: human-sized Underborn, serving as the main body of Underborn Hordes.  Kurlocs are large, even tougher orcs.
Orgog: giant, extremely vicious Underborn.
Barronaug: the most powerful Underborn.  One has not been seen since the Lost Age.

The Death of Nulcarn and the End of the Imperial Age

As the last of the First Scourges poured from the northern mountains and the fortress of Baragrond, few opposed the hordes, for few could.  The small groups that fought against Nulcarn were the men of Naren Vale, the High Elves of the cities Turthulion, Caladlaen and the forest-refuge of Lorthori, and the dwarven clans.  The halflings were uprooted from their homes at Geldaland, gorrlocs burned the fields and slew the last halfling king.  Nulcarn moved forth with his Underborn against the dwarves first.  His orcs and gorrlocs took the great city of Khazad-Ür, slaying every dwarf inside the city-fortress.  After this, the remaining dwarf clans sealed off their tunnels and closed their cities, withdrawing beneath the mountains.  Next, Nulcarn invaded the human homeland of Naren Vale, at first the conquest was easy; the north of the Vale fell to him.  But he did not know that men were strong.  Aldrein was with them as the men marched to confront Nulcarn's forces.  Luôr, king of Dul-Ünin, led his men to victory in the first five Battles of Naren Vale, though he was slain in the sixth by Nulcarn himself.  After the Six Battles of the Vale, Nulcarn's forces were defeated and driven from the northern lands of men.  At the same time, a second legion led by Tyris the Black attacked the elves at Lorthori.  After three battles and numerous skirmishes, Tyris's forces were not able to penetrate deep into the forest.  But the biggest thorn in Nulcarn's side was Turthulion, the last great stronghold of Elvanyan, hidden always from Nulcarn's sight.  Turthulion acted as a refuge for people fleeing from war, and the armies of King Caladruin moved light and fast, holding back the Underborn from advancing farther south.  Men from the cities of Lorn, Cairn Erun, Gildaris, and the other great cities of Naren, banded together with the elves of Turthulion and marched north, reclaiming lands as they went, to Baragrond.  There the Alliance laid siege to the Black Citadel for nine weeks.  The final battle, named the Battle of Sorrow,  ended in a bloody defeat for the Alliance.  Men and elves withdrew for some years after that to recover their strength.  Nulcarn built an obelisk of the skulls of the fallen men in front of the iron gates of Baragrond.  A fortnight later, a half-elf named Éuel  came to Nulcarn while the Black God was marching on Lorn with the location of Turthulion for the promise of power.  Nulcarn quickly sent thousands upon thousands of his twisted creatures led by Tyris the Blighted to the city hidden deep in the Western Mountains.  The Siege of Turthulion was long and bloody.  Bogloths and trolls pushed great battering rams to the Gilden Gate of Turthulion, while orcs and gorrlocs scaled the walls on ladders and siege towers, arachtaurs and beastmen climbed the white walls while drakes descended from above.  When the elves thought all hope was lost, the great mage Tuthilin emerged from his tower and called upon the three rivers that flowed in the mountains by Turthulion.  He gave the other elves just enough time to escape when he released the flood.  The green plain surrounding the city was swallowed up, the walls were taken by the great wave; soon the whole city was submerged along with Tuthilin and hundreds of thousands of Underborn.  Nulcarn had destroyed Turthulion, but at a heavy price; Tyris was dead, the few beastmen left fled into the wilds, thousands of orcs and gorrlocs were dead, and the demon creatures were nearly extinct.  When Nulcarn's main army reached Lorn, Duôr's city where the remnant of the Alliance were taking refuge, he laid siege to it, hoping to end the fight of the free races of Mundus there.  But during the battle, Duôr, still healing from his wounds, slew Nulcarn's bogloth guards and did the unthinkable: he stabbed Nulcarn, spilling the god's dark blood before the gates of Lorn.  In a fury never felt by man, Nulcarn killed Duôr and many of those with him.  When his blood was spilt, all Nulcarn's legions of Underborn were driven into a frenzy and scattered; Nulcarn fled north to Baragrond and vanished.  He had been defeated.  Generations and centuries went by with no hint of Nulcarn's return, the era of relative peace allowed the men of Arnas to march their legions north and east, pulling anyone in their path into the Theden Empire.  The Thedes of Arnas had forgotten the wisdom and faith of the Telnar, instead consorting with dragons and worshipping the Old Gods themselves.  But as Theden enjoyed its supremacy, shadows began to gather in the north.  A thief from Hexusion, Darrow, traveled with a small band of companions north to the Black Mountains and the Iron Cleft, wherein laid Nulcarn's fortress.  Darrow snuck into Baragrond; into the very throne room of the dark god himself.  Darrow snatched the stolen helm of Duôr from Nulcarn's throne and laughed in the face of Nulcarn himself.  Darrow was easily slain by the Tainted God, but not before the man hurled the helm out of Baragrond.  An eagle then came, seeing the sun glinting off the helm and carried it miles off; to the coast.  In a rage Nulcarn unleashed his rebuilt Underborn hordes from Baragrond and the First Scourges resumed.  The Thedes experienced the true horror of a Scourge for the first time.  Kallen, Magus Imperator of the disintegrating Theden Empire after his father Kollanus, was praying one night to any god, above or below, when he received a vision from Aldrein: Kallen was standing in a forest, near a dark cave.  He found, laying just inside the cave the lost helm of Duôr.  Suddenly he was standing in the midst of an enormous battle.  Nulcarn, clad in his black armor, was racing toward him, mace raised for a killing blow.  Kallen drew his sword and thrust it into the chest of Nulcarn and slew the dark god.  Kallen awoke from his vision and hurriedly searched the northern wilds of his empire.  He found the helm in a cave still unknown to man.  He donned the helm and spread the worship of the Sanctum through the Empire.  His vision showed him that as Duôr had wounded the dark god, Kallen could kill him.  Kallen raised all the imperial legions and rallied free people to him: elves, Dran, Vadarin, even the halflings, but only a lone army of Nameless dwarves came to answer the call.  They marched to Baragrond and besieged the Black Citadel for the second time in the Breach of Baragond.  This time though, Nulcarn rode out to meet them, riding his dragon, Angrazak.  Kallen, riding one of the elves' eagles, fought Nulcarn in the sky.  Kallen finally slew Angrazak, so he faced the Tainted God on the ground.  They fought, and when Kallen was thrown to the ground and Nulcarn was about to destroy the last hope for Mundus; Kallen prayed to Aldrein, and the Father God filled him with strength.  Kallen picked up his sword and stabbed the black heart of Nulcarn.  It was over then and there.  The Scourge broke, the Iron Gates fell off there hinges, the Tower of Baragrond crumbled.  All the slaves of Nulcarn were freed.  Life, it seemed, could return to normal.  Kallen, the direct descendant of Duôr, divided the weak Empire in two; western Theden, or Lortheas, and eastern Arannis.  He ruled Theden as it's one of its greatest imperators. 

The Eight Magisters

An ancient order, the Eight Magisters—which refers to the eight masters only, and not their apprentices—were founded by the Theden Empire as the ultimate tutors and practicians in magic.  Each Magister had a magic ring, passed down from master to apprentice, given to them by the Old Gods.  The Magisters' colors were scarlet and dark purple, each of the eight had matching robes, but each had his own insignia.  The first Magisters were so feared that enemy armies would retreat at the sight of them, such as the Battle of Aranim, where a great army of Wilders fled after merely seeing Magister Faruscius striding onto the battfield; thus allowing Theden dominance in western Nariath.  Each of the Magisters had a personal keep in the Empire, where he would study and tutor his apprentice.  By the time of the Magus Age, the Magisters had declined in prestige and were slowly fading away, along with most of Thedens magical legacy.  Their renown had grown during the middle to late Sacred Age when Alderath and Kalorin, two apprentices of the Magisters, killed a barrnoaug at Tema during the Second Scourge.  But when Theden was split and the Kingdom of Lortheas was born, Alderath the Ageless and Kalorin were all that were left of the ancient power of the Eight.  At the end of the Magus Age when Urydrell broke free from his prison and unleashed the Fifth Scourge from the Giants' Helms, Lortheas was destroyed and the any remaining legacies of Theden.  All the Magusters were killed except Alderath and his friend Kalorin; Alderath fled to Narenior and disappeared from history, Kalorin fled to the Arannis Empire where he died several decades later.  The days of the Theden Calendar were named after the original Eight: Faruscius, Tullius, Desevian, Uledrius, Caiaphus, Luscon, Maravuc, and Iisadia.     

Jaalin Tal.

Jaalin Tal carried the bucket of water down the village path to his family's cabin.  He looked up at the sun, which shone bright and warm in the summer months after it vanishes for winter, and felt a cool breeze on his face as he reached the door of his hut.  Inside, his mother was stocking the fire, readying for supper, Tuli, Jaalin's younger sister, sat on the earthen floor playing with wooden dolls, his father sat by the fire, he was dressed for a hunt.  Jaalin hauled the bucket over to his mother, who thanked him and kissed him on his head.  His father set down his whetstone and motioned for his son to come over next to him.
"My son," He said, Jaalin sat down in front of him, "I'm going to hunt with the other men, but you must stay here.  So, in honor of your fifth birthday, I give you this."  Jaalin's father gave him a bone knife, which he had just finished.  Jaalin, overjoyed hugged his father and ran outside with his new tool.  As Jaalin showed the other boys; they heard the sound of hoof falls thundering up to the village, a cloud of dust looming behind the horsemen.  Jaalin spotted the red and silver banner of the Empire.  His friends scattered once they saw the horsemen, dogs started to bark, and the people of the village came out of their huts at the noise.  The soldiers, in burnished breastplates, rode into the village, one of the soldiers took out a scroll and began to read aloud, over the tumult,
"By order of his Imperial Majesty Toralius the Third, two thirds of all young boys shall be taken from their homes in times of war, as to be trained into his Majesty's Imperial Legions."  The man rolled the scroll and directed his soldiers into action.  The legionaries rounded up all the boys in the town, Jaalin included, they picked him up in iron grips and tossed him amongst the others.  The man still on his horse counted up the boys, then had his men round up the most fit and healthy looking.  One soldier came over to Jaalin, he inspected Jaalin for a while then called to his superior.
"This one looks young."
The commander looked at Jaalin.
"Take him anyway."
Jaalin was hefted up in strong arms and thrown into the back of a wagon with the other chosen boys, and carted of to the capital of the Empire, necer to see his home again.

Eilendor celestial objects and wind.

Of Celestial Objects:
The Night Sky: the darkness that the stars rest in is the Great Firmament, that is the roof above the worlds and the bottom of Anruvalir.  The colorful clouds are dust and sparks falling from the halls of the gods above.  Ardin himself divided the worlds, making the Firmament to hold the stars and to help keep the material realms from the divine lights.
Stars: stars are but the legions of the anruvali, keeping watch over the world.  During the day, the anruvali are off, working in Anruvalir, so are not seen during the day, but when Boleras goes to rest and Sileina comes out, the anruvali rest and are seen.
Comets: comets are swiftly moving anruvali, going about their business.  There are three famous comets: Asdorlus the Red Comet, a good omen of victory; Ulsem the Blue Comet, she is seen in the sky wen a hero is born, or a great deed is done; Dirion the Purple Comet, a dire warning of destruction and death, such as the Spellfall, the Fall of the Torand Empire, and the rampage of the Fire Colossus.
Aurora Borealis: are caused by free-floating magic energy in the atmosphere, seen when air conditions are right.  It is seen in the north and the south of Eilendor, the magical currents tend to prefer the two points.  Also this knowledge allowed the dwarf Feldgston to invent, using lodestone, the compass.
Of Wind:
The Four Breaths: the four winds, or breaths, of Eilendor are made by Gentira blowing across the world on her pet eagle.  She flies invisibly through the sky, singing, while her eagle flaps his wings and creates wind currents.

Ëamor, prince of Felldar.

Ëamor, the young prince of Felldar, rested against the marble railing of the balcony, the mountains of Felldar set before him.  He lazily beheld the multitude of courtiers, soldiers, servants and laborers bustling about in the courtyard below, the tumult of noise reaching his lofty perch.  The sound of footfalls on polished stone made Ëamor turn his head; Orwyl, Ëamor's head servant, came from the prince's room.  Orwyl knelt before Ëamor.
"It is time for your lessons, your Highness."
Ëamor sighed, it was that time of day, but he followed his manservant through the many staircases of Narrin Keep, the royal city, to Madam Hana's study.  Madam Hana was a tall, dark-haired, middle aged women who taught linguistics to the children of the King or nobles.  Ëamor sat down next to Faleth, the son of the Lord Admiral, Fredrick.  Faleth thumped Ëamor in the shoulder, Ëamor grinned at his friend.  Madam Hana cleared her throat, calling the boys, the girls learned languages seperatly, to order.  Hana drew her large slate from a drawer and she took a piece of chalk and drew the runic alphabet of the human language.
"We took our script from the dwarves, who invented the runic letters when they would record numbers of ore on stone tablets. But yet, our spoken language is different from that of the dwarves, Galen, where did we get our spoken language from?"
Galen, the son of a wealthy merchant, responded with well practiced ease.
"Everyone.  We have patched together our words from the tongues of the elves, dwarves and even the orcs.'
"Very good, Galen.   Now, Faleth, what is the dwarven word for "dwarf"?"
Faleth thought for a moment, then said,
"Khazad!  It's khazad."
Hana nodded.
"Annunciate the first 'a' and it will be perfect."
Faleth did so.  Madam Hana then told the class that today they would study dwarven syntax.  Everyone groaned inwardly.
Though learning new languages was somewhat interesting it wasn't Ëamor's favorite class, neither was history.  Master Felton would drone on about some old Felldar inventor who made this or that.  Ëamor did like the lessons on long ago battles, of heroes, of villains, and of adventures.  Ëamor loathed dancing and many of the other 'courtly' lessons.  The lessons that the prince excelled were those of swordsmanship, horseback riding, navigation, and archery.
After a particularly hard bout of sword practice, Ëamor wiped his brow and looked up to the thunder of hooves; a company of horsemen rose into view.  Mândturos, Ëamor's half brother, was at the head of the column, astride his dark gray charger; he had his sword in his hand, it was splattered with crimson.  The cavalry rode past the sword master's hut, up the steep path to Narrin Hold and through the great oaken gates.  Ëamor had never been fond of his older half brother, and the feeling was mutual.  Their father, King Dândturos, had messed around with a banished elf, Leah.  Queen Isel, for this reason, loved her own son over Ëamor, and Dândturos only had room for so much family time; so Ëamor's childhood was, besides friends and tutors, rather lonely.
Ëamor, know near manhood, came into the Throne Hall from the stables.  He tracked in straw and dirt on the polished marble floor; he could see his step-mother's look of disdain from across the hall.  Mândturos was already in the hall, along with the Felldar royal ambassadors and the aged Madam Hanna.  Ëamor then noticed some strange folk standing before the throne; they were as tall as men, but more slender, they had white, beautifully crafted bows on their backs, long blond or brown hair, and elegant needle green or rich brown tunics and trousers, and their long, slight ears were pointed.  The elves stood in a small group before the King of Felldar, talking in fluent Ardoran Common, the language of Felldar and other Telnar-descended men.  One of the elves, a male, his near white blond hair held in a simple pony tail, turned and looked at Ëamor; the elf's face was narrower than a human's, and his eyes were slanted, like a cat.  Ëamor walked over, his footsteps reverberating around the vast hall, he stood on the opposite side of the raised dais from his half-brother and step-mother.  The elf ambassador resumed her talking.
"…Your Majesty, the shadow grows strong in the west, none dare appose it.  And though last time, during Nulcarn's reign of darkness, we elves hid from the grasping shadows; we are willing to make alliances with men this time."  Her accent was rich and whimsical.
King Dândturos stroked his gray speckled beard.  His chief advisor spoke then.
"Why don't we mull it over, your Majesty?"
"Yes, alright," the King looked at the elves, "you wouldn't mind giving us a moment, would you?"
"Of course not, your Majesty."  The elf woman said with a graceful bow.  The other elves bowed and followed their leader out of the throne hall.  Ëamor noted the female elf's quiver of arrows; he thought it odd that elf women carried weapons.  After the guards shut the doors behind the elves, King Dândturos rubbed his temples.
"By the gods above and below!  Muldorn this and Muldorn that!  Do you really think the god would lead a human nation?"  He sighed.
"It does seem unlikely, my Lord."  Farron, the Chief Advisor said, "but this is a very unlikely world the gods have made; and the tales of the west are indeed grim."
"I suppose.  I just hope the elves aren't planning a military campaign against the Ullanis Empire anytime soon."
"That would be most un-elf like in my opinion, Master."  Farron said.
"Very well, I've made my descicion, call them back in."
The elves glided back into the hall once the doors were opened.
"Tell King Finlúin I'll accept his pact."
"Excellent, your Majesty," the elf envoy said, an elf standing next her handed her a large, white falcon.  She whispered something in the bird's ear, then let it fly out the open window, "King Finlúin should receive the message in a few days time."  
The elves left not long after, riding off on their deer steeds.  But one stayed, the one who had first looked at Ëamor, stayed to learn of the ways of men.            

The redemption of Beleth.

Beleth the Tainted awoke from unconsciousness with a start, memories of blood and screams fading from his mind.  He breathed a sigh of relief, the battle was long over and Ëamor was gone, that made Beleth remember something else.  He looked down at his side; an arrow protruded from his thigh and a rent in his armor leaked blood on his chest.  Ëamor, the prince of Felldar, had shot Beleth in the thigh, then Argonor, heir to the Naldor crown, had slashed him in the chest, rendering Beleth unconscious.  He tried to sit up but he had lost too much blood; he fell back against the hard earth, he looked about him instead.  He lay on the hillside not far from Ullanis, the Ullani Plain stretched before him, he could see men gathering and burning the fallen in the morning light, then the Plain ended at the wall that was the Alnur Mountains.  He thanked Muldorn that he had not yet been burned, he decided on his plan of action.  He grasped the shaft of the arrow, with his other hand he took his knife off his belt, and cut the wood from the arrow head.  Tossing the shaft aside, he gritted his teeth and dug the metal point out of his flesh with the knife.  It slid out, slick and red, falling to the ground at his side, Beleth took a torn part of his cape and stuffed it into the wound to stifle the blood flow.  He sighed and rested for a moment, his hand clacked against something, he turned his head and saw his healing potion, a crack in it's clear, bulbous vial, blue liquid seeping into the dirt.  He grabbed the potion and gulped down the remaining liquid; it tasted like blackberries and pineapple.  Beleth gasped in relief, then grunted as his torn skin and muscle knit back together, his heart beat steadied out, his haggard breathing returned to a normal rate.  The noise of rattling armor and voices came closer, so Beleth stood on unsteady feet, he looked for his mace.  It lay near a fallen Ullani swordsman, he picked up his black, gore-spattered weapon and put it through the loop on his belt, he then searched for his bow.
It lay some feet away, broken.
Beleth found an archer and took the corpse of it's bow and quiver.  Having put the quiver on his back, Beleth climbed the hill, keeping as quiet and low to the ground as possible.  The sight that met his eyes was a sad one; Ullanis, the great capital of the god Muldorn, lay in ruins, it's black wall in ruins, smoke rose from the houses, people mourned for the dead and for their city.  Beleth adjusted his torn, black, cape and stumbled down the side of the hill toward the vestige of Ullanis.  Men from Naldor, Felldar, Nandros, and Belannor searched the body littered streets for their own dead, dwarves were tearing down the palace of Muldorn, and even an elf was seen here and there, watching the conquered city.  Beleth would have gone into the city if not for two reasons: the insignia of Muldorn blazoned on his breastplate, and two, the pale impression of Muldorn's clammy hand on his face.  Beleth raised two fingers to his face and probed the bone white, hand-shaped scar, the mark where Beleth derived his magic powers.  He flipped up his hood, and placed an illusion over Muldorn's symbol on his armor, and entered the outskirts of, the once glorious, Ullanis.  The crowds of both the conquered and conquerers, barely gave him a second glance as he walked through the rubble and corpse littered streets.  H made his way toward the once grand palace and temple to the fallen god Muldorn, it's foreboding gray towers, now crumbled, still dominated the skyline.  Though instead of the black flag with a white hand on it, the flags of Naldor, Belannor, Felldar, Alnurite, and Nandros flapped in the wind in front of the palace.  Beleth, sickened by the destruction of his city, stole a horse and rode off, away from the site of the Battle for Eilendor.      

Oratory Library: Ezra

Ezra  tossed a log on the fire; sparks leaped into the dark sky, little, fiery, beings, then disappeared into the wind.  Ezra leaned back, putting his hand reassuringly on the worn hilt of his sword.  Elben, Ezra's employer and a magician, sat pouring over a cracked piece of parchment; Alnon, the guide to the area, sat with his bow at the ready, gazing into the blackness surrounding their sphere of warmth.
Ezra looked at his companions.  "So, Friends.  Where to next?"
Elben looked up from his scroll and Alnon switched his hawk-like gaze from the trees to Ezra.  Elben pulled a map from his pouch.  Ezra and Alnon scooted closer.
"We're here,"  the middle-aged wizard pointed to spot in the north of Silverthin Woods, "and I need to go to Heniva on Huron Mountain, here," Elben traced the route to Huron on the map.
"I'd say about five days, six max."  Ezra said, leaning over the map.
Elben shook his head.  "I must get to my employer sooner.  We'll go through here."  He touched a pass in between the Amaranthine Peaks.  Ezra looked closer at where the magician had indicated.
"The Pass of Kalorin!?  You must be joking!"  Ezra looked at his employer imploringly.
"No.  I am not joking.  We must to Heniva within three days."
"I wasn't paid to get killed in that godsforsaken pass."  Ezra scooched back onto his bedroll, sword lying next to him.
"At least I don't have to go through the Pass."  Alnon sighed gratefully.  Ezra continued grumbling as the three of them fell asleep.

Ezra, naked sword in hand, rode behind Alnon, who led them all through the forest, following some obscure game trail.  Ezra was looking at the trees, when he spotted something up head; reining in he raised his sword.
"What's that?  A skull?"  He said to his companions.
Alnon looked on at the cracked skull, a rusty pike spiked through it.
"Halfling skull.  Must be gorrlocs nearby."  Alnon took his bow off his back.  They all continued at a cautious pace.
The Amaranthines were near indeed by noon.  Ezra kept rubbing his hilt nervously, Alnon plucked on his bow string and Elben spoke incantations to himself.  They reached the Pass around one and a half hours after noon, a great crack nestled among the bases of the mountains.
"Good fortune to you both, but..."  Alnon turned to leave.
Ezra grabbed the back of the man's cloak.
"If I'm going into that accursed pass, then so are you."  The mercenary growled.
After some hours of slowly trudging through snow and over rocks, Elben stopped.
"Behold," he announced to his companions, "the Rock of Kalorin, the most magical site in the Empire."
Ezra and Alnon looked up; fifty feet above the rocky path was a small outcrop of rock jutting from the rough sides of the mountain; it glowed with an eerie blue light.  Four hundred and seventy-five years ago, Kalorin, Archmage to Asdoriin V, destroyed the invading Ullanis army, standing on that very rock.
As they stood admiring the Rock, orcs crept up behind them.

Poetic Edda.

A grand composition of the legends and poems of Ilendor.  Compiled and translated by Tyrl, an elven  bard from Turthulion.  The original Edda was taken by Tyrl in his travels, and was nearly lost when he died of an ax wound, but a young elf, Bastucon Maléon, who put it in the Royal Library of Illera.  Copies can be found in most major libraries.  The Edda contains poems mostly about Creation and the coming of races into the world, and the origins of the kingdoms and lands.

The Age of Muldorn and the rising of Ullanis.

When Muldorn, the immortal dunruvali, god of cold and undeath, was called down to earth by the Ullanis Empire, he broke the Pact and forsook his godly position in Adrenergard.  He came down and took on a fleshly mantle, and assumed the throne of Ullanis.  He made the small empire great; with him at the head of an army, they were unstoppable.  Until, after taking part of Felldar, he lead the Ullani army to the Belannor Empire, where, at the Battle of Edölas, Alderath the Ageless used the Shield of Boleras to defeat the fallen god and his army.  After that, the Ullani army retreated back to Ullanis, and stayed there for many years.  But slowly at first, Ullanis's borders expanded again, it became the biggest empire in the world.  The elves retreated back into their forests, the dwarves sealed their tunnels, gnomes surrounded their homes with illusions and locked their doors.  Yargal, orcs, and goblins roamed in the now empty lands, halflings fled from their rural, riverside villages, and went to the big, fortified human cities.  The undead of the Gray Plateau, or Krod, praised Muldorn, and joined under the Ullanis banner.  The human nations were left to ward of the Ullani expansion.  It was dark times, men had been forsaken by the elves and dwarves, and Ullanis was an unstoppable juggernaut, until an Oréalionder prince and his friends rose up and worked against Muldorn.      

Illithis, the kingdom of shadows.

Illithis is a human kingdom, close to Than; they were both once provinces of the Thirvilis Empire.  Illithis is an empire who's aristocracy are shades, spellcasters who have fused themselves with black magic.  Illithis is a rigid police state, with a multitude of strict laws.  If someone breaks one of these laws, they are dragged away to one of the many dungeons, where your thrown into a little hole and forgotten.  Illithisians look much like Thans; tall, slender, narrow features, dark hair, and fair skin.  The shade emperors rule from the city Ceve, which is shrouded in an eternal twilight.  Order is kept in Illithis cities by the Ceve Skirmishers, a special order of city guards who fight with daggers and lurk in alleyways and on rooftops.  After the fall of the Thirvilis Empire, Illithis, Than, and Ullanis, all former provinces, remained and became sovereign kingdoms.  The first Illithis king, Sorlos 1, turned Ceve, an old military base town, into the grand capital city.  He also turned himself into a shade, which started the tradition.  Though it was Sorlos's grandson, Sorlos 3, that made all his nobles turn into shades as well.  Ceve is located in the foothills of the Frelor Mountains, the Frelors divide Illithis from the Gray Wastes.