The Heritage of Altimor

[Korg Ironhand]

Greetings to you, friend.

I am Dale ap Tethil, a traveling bard and good friend to Altimor Bragoson, the name that most know him by. I consider myself a graft, if you will, to Altimor's family. I have met and shared bread with his mother, father and sister. I have shed tears they did not know I shed for them, and I consider it an honor to be so close to them. I have taken it upon myself to be the scribe and the voice of what I feel to be the noblest people I have ever met. It is my opinion alone, but you will hear no other point of view come from me. However, you will read this and then judge for yourself the man Altimor and his ancestors.

It is my hope that this missive has reached the correct destination. I've sent only three copies, two of which myself and Altimor have hand delivered ourselves. This one was the gamble, but I hope all the safeguards we have set have held true and that this now rests in the halls of Saga. If not, then I implore you the bearer of this letter to get it to its intended destination. For in it is a story that spans many generations, and holds information that may do no less than save the lands of Norrath from a decaying evil. That is the first and foremost priority of this document. The second, simply put, is to insure the story of my friend's lineage will not be lost. In itself, the story of his house does not warrant more than a lesson of honor in the face of tragedy. However, the element of evil that follows beside the heritage of this honor is the true urgency. Please turn no ear or eye to these pages that cannot be trusted in the up most. Please turn no ear or eye away that would fight to make a difference.

The man Altimor Bragoson has another name. Altimor Arwendain, son of Brago, son of Barimor, of the line of Terenor, Lord of the Western House of Arwendain. I know that the name and title would be lost on the most knowledgeable of us, for the name or Arwendain was lost over these past three centuries due to a tragedy of hatred and injustice. However, with the blessing of Mithaniel and Erolosi Marr, the house will rise from its ashes, and its people will be whole again.

And now, this is the story of the House of Arwendain, which is dwarven for "Goodness".

[Korg Ironhand]

Terenor Quinsman

In the days when the plains of Karana held more men than beasts, and the Commonlands of the East were not yet touched to deeply by the taint of Befallen, there lived a man, Terenor Quinsman, who made a name for himself among the people of what is now called East Karana. For it was said that though the land was owned by farmers and small townsmen, it was ruled by a fellowship of dark and wicked spell weavers, the Hei'dant Al, which meant "Hand of Ruin" in the Teir'Dal tongue. Though the lands of the East Karanas seemed a petty and insignificant patch of land to rule, it was in fact the center of a vast network of evil. The Hei'dant Al was a society set up by followers of evil gods to sow dissention and disunity in the many ruling governments of Norrath. Indeed, they were quite well placed in most countries and kingdoms, and had already caused many conflicts and deeds of aggression among otherwise friendly nations. In this place did the people of the Karanas live and die under slavery and forced submission. Entire towns and villages were no less than the hands and feet of this dire and foul organization.

And from this people came Terenor Quinsman. Terenor was the son of a simple farmer, but to the Hei'dant Al, he showed promise as a skilled assassin and rogue. His early days showed his skill in hunting and tracking, and the dark knights of this home saw good warrior material in him. However, though his training in arms was overseen by the warriors, he was also shown the arts of stealth, subterfuge and deceit. He was singled out by the First Seat himself, an evil human necromancer named Edonis O'vol. It was the hope of the Hei'dant Al that in Terenor they had found a capable errant to send as both messenger to secret councils in foreign lands, under the guise of a lowland lord in search of diplomacy with the many wealthier nations, as well as a spy and saboteur when needed.

Now, Terenor was not an evil man. He grew up one of the few of his kin who held hope of something better, and though he abhorred the evil he was forced to pursue, pursue it he did. For every time he would set his foot against his evil master Edonis, the necromancer would kill one of those close to him. It was after three of his family was murdered before his very eyes that he finally bowed without hesitation to his overlords. Over the course of his teen years, he was shown the way to perform treachery and deceit and murder. It was thought that all hope was crushed from his heart when he broke for the last time.

Kinzil Roundshield

By the age of twenty, Terenor had been sent on many successful missions to the surrounding countries, as both messenger and killer. He had gained the trust of the Hei'dant Al, so when another day came when his skills were needed again, he was called without worry. In Kaladim, the mighty dwarven kingdom across the ocean, a paladin had successfully routed out one of the few spies placed in King Stormhammer's council. Further, was not convinced there were not others. Kinzil Roundshield was the dwarf's true name, but when he became a paladin of Brel Serilis, he was given the name Kinzil Arwendain, which is dwarven for "Goodness". The holy knight was true to his name, and evil was truly outside the realm of his heart. And so in exposing one member of the Hei'dant Al, he had endangered the others and the plans they had laid.

And so it was that Terenor Quinsman was sent across the Ocean of Tears for the first time, to gain the trust of this honorable dwarf long enough to discern his mind and place a dagger in his back. He was to infiltrate the city as a young visiting noble, and feign interest in the tactics of the dwarven military, specifically the paladins. Terenor had yet to encounter anything truly good or honorable, and even as he set foot into the paladin's halls, he felt no pull strong enough to deter him from his evil task. However, upon meeting Kinzil Arwendain, he felt a stir in his spirit he had not felt since he watched his sister die that last day of rebellion. Kinzil was a gentle soul, both cheerful and genuine. From the moment the dwarf offered his hand to Terenor in friendship, and Terenor clasped his in return, there was a bond formed between the two, a kindred that delved deep into the soul.

In the following days, Kinzil gave his time freely in leading his newfound friend through the halls and streets of Kaladim, and the dwarf and man grew to be a close to brothers as one week would allow. It was a shadowed experience for Terenor at best. Kinzil brought up from the dregs of Terenor's heart what was thought lost. Hope, goodness, honesty, and the wide gammit of right and just intentions.

The nature of his business there had also taken on a new urgency. For in their many discussions on good and evil, both theological and practical, Kinzil shared with his friend that he knew indeed there was a secret society of evil, though he had no name, and all the ruin it was trying to bring to the world. With surprising clarity, Kinzil described what he thought a foul fellowship like that would do to its followers to keep absolute dominion over them. In Terenor's mind, Kinzil seemed to grasp the very nature of the Hei'dant Al, and was astounded by the dwarf's ability to so totally know evil, and yet so totally hate and disdain it. Kinzil did not have the specifics, but he had the truth, and he intended to speak with his king with a week's time and make the truth known to the world.

As the week came to a close, and Terenor's task began to come close to its moment of action, he fought a deep a violent battle within himself to quell and extinguish the upright passions that tried to fog his clarity of mind.

The Bond

Over the course of the week the two friends spent together, the dark spies in the King's council were hard at work making preparations for the murder of Kinzil Arwendain. They prepared a time and a place, and a means of escape for the assassin Terenor. So the day came when Terenor was sent word secretly that all was in place.

For the first time since his early years, Terenor wrestled with true moral dilemma. Kinzil seemed willing to walk where he was led, though sensing the human's mood he seemed quiet. Then they came to an alley where the deed was to be done. Terenor stood at its entrance, staring into the dark recesses, knowing what waited.

It was Kinzil Arwendain that turned to face him. Looking straight into Terenor's eyes, he spoke four words only.

"Let us do this."

As the dwarf turned to walk into the alleyway, Terenor knew at last what he had seen in his friend all that day. Kinzil knew. He knew all that was going to happen, all that Terenor was leading him into. He knew, and he was prepared to let Terenor kill him in order to save Terenor from the punishment that would come from his failure.

As the dwarf walked into the increasing darkness between the buildings, Terenor stood stunned, seeing for the first time true and pure love for a fellow being. Then he saw the killers move out of the shadows. Four in all, they came out from behind the dark corners and crevices. Dwarves, strong and armored and evil. The battle joined, for Kinzil needed to make the battle look genuine. But, while he would accept the knife from Terenor, he would not accept the knife from those base souls. He would fight even against the odds of five to one. When all was done, only one dwarf stood. And one man stood with him, his dagger stained with the blood of those sent to kill his friend.

If the two companions felt a bond between them before that moment, the one they had just forged was like a shield forged from the strongest steel. Before either of them moved, they clasped arms in solemn honor, and declared with no words neither would forsake the other, come good or ill, threat or peace, blood or health.

The Fall of the Hei'dant Al

Much was needed to be done that night. Terenor went to perform his grizzly work on all those of the Hei'dant Al directly involved in the attempt at Kinzil's life. Kinzil went before King Stormhammer with all haste to explain the whole of the night's events, and to assure the king that the man Terenor could be trusted, even after so brazen an affront to his Majesty's sovereignty. As it so happened, the king was indeed a wise dwarf. After interviewing Terenor Quinsman, gaining the whole of the treatment of the people of the Karanas and the plots of this Hei'dant Al, he offered personal pardon to Terenor, and ordered all the events of that night be kept in deepest secret. Terenor gave the names of every member of the Hei'dant Al present in the king's court, and these were brought to a swift and silent death. In the quiet of an empty court, the small council of dwarves and one man devised a secret and brilliant campaign against the Hei'dant Al.

Terenor Quinsman was reported dead by the law of the city, as was Kinzil Arwendain. The whole of the city's council was said to be intact and doing well, and the king had the presence of mind to take a tour of other nations. Over the following months, the king took his entourage to the nation cities of Felwithe and Ak'Anon. Ambassadors were sent to every major city of good in Antonica, as well as Odus across the Erudin Sea, all bearing the proper protocols for a king on his way to visit. Quite a few elves caught on in the spirit of this dwarven wanderlust, and citizens of both nations who wished to see the world would set out in small groups to see what was to be seen. All seemed to want to go to the west. And all attempts from the Hei'dant Al to contact their hidden spies of Kaladim were met by a lone man knowing all the proper code words, and were told to report good and steady progress of dissension within Kaladim's government.

And so it was, in seven months time, that Edonis O'vol and the Hei'dant Al awoke to find no less than an army suddenly appear upon the eastern plains of the Karanas in the morning light. Standing against them were the "wandering" dwarves and elves and the emissaries from various nations which the dwarven king's ambassadors secretly informed. And King Stormhammer himself rode out of Highkeep with his "entourage" of paladins. Battle was joined, and a great battle it was, full of deeds of treachery as well as valor. In the end, the Hei'dant Al were beaten down, and very few of the evil fellowship escaped. Terenor Quinsman had saved his people, and the great evil was banished.

[Korg Ironhand]

The House of Arwendain

It was a great feast of thirty days that followed the restoring of the people of the Karanas their freedom and rightful place as free men, though it took much persuasion that they were indeed free of their masters. The people who were so long oppressed were made the guests of honor. Not one Karanan was among the servants, and King Stormhammer himself ate among them. It was indeed a most heartening thing to those that lived as slaves for generations.

Upon the third day after the battle, the king held court, and bestowed honor and awards to those who showed themselves worthy in battle. Among those summoned before the king was Terenor Quinsman. Now, the king was most impressed with Terenor, knowing what he had come through, and knowing how much he had changed since that night he betrayed his masters for the sake of Kinzil. And truly, the events of the last seven months were told to the people of East Karana, and they knew Terenor's part in it. So it was that the king was about to declare the order of a new house, the House of Quinsman, and bestow the leadership to Terenor for the sake of ruling the land when he left for Kaladim. Before the king could finish his speech, however, Terenor spoke out.

"My Lord, please forgive this brash and arrogant man for speaking out of turn. I am not worthy to stand before you, being a man of no importance. But since you deem it good to honor me with a gift, I've only one request, and would gladly trade anything you would offer for this one boon. Please, allow me to be called blood to Kinzil Arwendain, and the lowest in the family. Grant me adoption into his new born house. I would be content to fill the role of a vassal alone, as long as my name was as his and his family. I know your custom of adoption into a house is a seldom given thing, but I have seen in this excellent dwarf everything I would hope to be, and I would count myself blessed among men to be associated with the greatness that I see in him."

All present were dumbfounded, not the least of these was Kinzil Arwendain. The king called the paladin before him and, before the whole court, Kinzil was asked if he would wish this. The practice of adopting one dwarf into another's house without the loss of family was indeed seldom, but never before was another race grafted into a dwarven household. So the matter was indeed great, and the paladin was assured there was no shame or dishonor to either he or the man if he declined. And before the whole assembly Kinzil Arwendain spoke.

"No other, be they dwarven or human, have I so esteemed as I do Terenor Quinsman. Before me stands a soul that has turned from the most wretched master, and saved my life at the risk of his own. I have loved him as a brother from our first meeting, and as we have shared company since that day, I still grow closer to him with each day that passed. Your Majesty, if you will allow it, please make Terenor Quinsman more than a mere vassal in the House of Arwendain. Declare him my brother, and let his name be scribed in Kaladim as Terenor Arwendain, of the House of Arwendain."

And so it was that Terenor Arwendain was born, as he knelt before King Stormhammer of Kaladim, and swore fealty. And the House of Arwendain was born twice. It was a duel house, the only house of Kaladim that was founded not by one lord, but two. And the King declared Terenor, Lord of the lands of the East Karanas, brother to Kinzil Arwendain, Lord of the estates of Arwendain in the Butcherblock Mountains.

The Blades of Arwendain

Much was done for the people of East Karana before the king of Kaladim left with his dwarves and the other races made their way back home. Lands were given, people were restored to dignity, and resources were made available to give the folk a good start in their new life. Kinzil and Terenor spent as much time as they could together, for they both knew that Kinzil would have much to do when they returned home, and it would be some time before the two brothers would see each other again. Both wished to give the other some keepsake to remind each other of their bond.

And so it was that both man and dwarf went to the king secretly to ask for his guidance in the matter. The king was both touched and amused, seeing the two competing for his time behind the other's back. As time progressed, he saw that the decision to grant them brotherhood was a blessed thing. Such a friendship was not ordinary, even among true brothers. And so the king assured each of them that indeed, he would find a suitable gift to give to his brother, and to leave the task to him.

And when the day came for the king to depart with his people, he called the two brothers into his court. Before a small group of men and dwarves, to make the exchange official, he presented the two with their gifts. To them both he gave torcs of simple yet stunning workmanship. Both bore a stone of deep blue, with the dwarven rune for Arwendain, dwarven for "Goodness", magically etched within its heart. These magnificent works had one magical quality to them. It allowed each wearer to sense the other, just enough to know they lived and were well, and it would lead one to the other if they wished to seek them out. That was the king's gift to them.

Then, he presented each brother with their respective gifts. To the dwarf, he gave a resplendent battle axe, and to the man, a mighty sword. The weapons were crafted with both strength and beauty, and both shone intensely. It was said that they shone brighter in the presence of evil. Strength poured out from both blades, and protection from magic flowed to its wielder. And, set within the hilt of the sword and the handle of the axe were again the deep blue gems with "Arwendain" set within.

Both Kinzil and Terenor were awed by these precious things, and made their humble thanks to their king. After some little time of formality, the dwarf and the man were left alone to say their final farewell. Standing together, they clasped arms and swore an oath. They swore to honor each other by upholding goodness in heart and soul, to protect the oppressed as they would protect each other, to actively move to make these virtues known to the world. To let Goodness reign where ever they dwelt. And in honor of their oaths, both blades were named Arwendain.

And so it was that Terenor Arwendain ruled the East Karanas for all his years. He married and had many children. On occasion Kinzil Arwendain would visit him, but Terenor was hard pressed to leave his estates, as he ruled more as a king than a lord. And in the twilight of his days, Terenor named Kelger, his first born, as his heir. Terenor made certain that Kelger spent time in the court of his dwarven uncle Kinzil, and established lasting ties with the longer lived half of the family. And so, in his last days, Terenor appointed Kelger Lord of the Western House of Arwendain. Then Terenor died.

[Korg Ironhand]

Kelger Arwendain

Kelger Arwendain was a just man, kind to the needy and merciful to the penitent. He would not tolerate evil and injustice, and would rage against such things. Though, like his father in the ways of Goodness, he was a stubborn and rash man at times. Though on occasion this would be a fault, in truth his reputation kept many would be criminals and villains in check. All in all, Kelger was a very formidable lord.

Kelger Arwendain ruled his estate well, and the Western House of Arwendain prospered under his hand. The House and all under his government flourished and became a strong name in the land with the seventy five years of its creation. Then Kelger fell sick, and was at death's door. His second son, Kalen, was named his heir, and as Kelger lay upon his deathbed, he passed the rule of the Western House of Arwendain on to his son, with Kinzil Arwendain there to witness the passing. Then Kelger Arwendain died at the human age of seventy.

Kalen Arwendain

Kalen was the mirror image of his father, both in body and in spirit. He was forty years old when he received the house estates, and was no less rash and stubborn then when he was twenty. He ruled with a swift and hot justice, but as with his father and his grandfather, he was great on compassion and kindness as well. For the oath to uphold the pledge between the First Brothers of Arwendain was now a thing passed down to all descendants, and a standard to measure their worth of leadership. Kalen met all these requirements, making a now aging Kinzil proud of his zealous great nephew.

Now, ten years after Kalen began his rule, many misfortunes began to fall on the people of East Karana. Crops failed, fires would rage wild in the fields, and neighboring estates and provinces would come almost to open conflict with the people of Arwendain. What was more, violent creatures would make bold advances into the civilized regions, attacking the outlaying farms and unsuspecting travelers. Arwendain was hard pressed to keep its vassals protected, and with the farming hardships, was equally hard pressed to keep its people fed. The soldiers could not keep the marauding creatures at bay while trying to defend their outer territories from raids from adjacent rulers. And so Kalen turned to the advice of his chief councilor, Pelian Dovan.

Pelian Dovan had come to the East Karanas as a lad, and was well schooled in administration, as well as educated in the ways of the court. So, the Lord Kelger had hired him years ago as a minor steward. Since then, Pelian had proven himself a trustworthy steward and friend to Kalen, and so Kalen had over time advanced him to chief advisor and councilor of the Western House of Arwendain.

Pelian thought long and hard on the situation, and came to Kalen with this solution. He was to borrow money from the Eastern House of Arwendain, then use this coin to hire mercenary soldiers to defend the land. When Kalen expressed concerned over both going further into debt and having men at arms of questionable loyalty in his realm, Pelian assured him, stating that he would personally inspect every hired soldier, and that if he did not borrow money to replenish his lands, he would have nothing of value left to rule. So, Kalen approved the plan. Kinzil gladly lent the money, and soldiers were brought from all corners of the land.

Pelian Dovan did indeed personally inspect every soldier that came into service of Arwendain. And much of the money brought from Faydwer was spent on outfitting these mercenaries. Pelian made personal checks on all progress of the outlaying forces, and made sure they did not interact with Arwendain's own forces, for fear of fights breaking out as they do between two different hosts of men. Pelian made all seem right and in place. Which was exactly what his master Edonis O'vol told him to do. Planted in typical Hei'dant Al fashion, Pelian had devoted his life to working into the trust of those he served, for just this opportunity.

The Return of the Hei'dant Al

In the battle of Arwendain, as it was called by the residents of the East Karanas, it was believed that the Hei'dant Al were stamped out and destroyed. In truth, though all nations were alerted to their schemes, not all members were flushed out. So the remaining few hid well, for fear of being found both by the good people who wished them to pay for their crimes, and by those evil beings that wished their deaths for their failure. From the deep shadows these surviving few kept themselves out of harm's way. They strived now to make the name and memory of the Hei'dant Al fade away, for it was secrecy that allowed them to gain such power, and they knew it was secrecy that would allow them to live, and eventually, rebuild.

Over the course of decades did this evil fellowship begin to clear away the old debris and make new beginnings, placing themselves in very small and seemingly unimportant courts and councils. The young roots placed in these small places where the beginnings of power for them once again, as the Hei'dant Al began to control the course of villages and estates.

From deep within the heart of this black union lived Edonis O'vol, who was believed slain in the Battle of Arwendain. As the decades turned slowly, his body decayed just as slow. For Edonis hated Arwendain for the ruin it had made of his life's work. To rid himself of the displeasure of his lord the Plague Bringer, Edonis traded his natural life for a tormented one. As long as there lived a direct descendant of Terenor Arwendain, Edonis would live in a body strong outwardly, but full of disease and pain within. Leaving his former surname, Edonis O'vol was born Edonis the Plagued.

Such was Edonis' hatred for Terenor that he bent all of the Hei'dant Al to his will and plotted the demise of the Western House of Arwendain. When he heard Terenor was on his deathbed, it brought him great pleasure, but he could do nothing yet to the son, as the Hei'dant Al was not yet strong enough to risk exposure in any way. And so, Edonis the Plagued bided his time, waiting for a chance to bring down his enemy and end his own torment.

The Fall of the Western House of Arwendain

And so it was that Kalen Arwendain woke one morning surrounded by an army of soldiers in the pay of the Hei'dant Al. The battle alarm was raised, and the gates of the estates shut. The sheer numbers of the mercenaries versus the loyal guard was enough to make a victory for the Hei'dant Al the first day, but through good fortune, the strong gates turned a massacre into a siege. But the deceit of Pelian Dovan cut deeper still. All food stocks held in the inner estates were moved out the previous night. It was truly a resounding victory against the House of Arwendain, as Kalen could not allow his people to starve, anymore than he could allow his people to fight such overwhelming odds. On the morning of the seventh day, Kalen Arwendain commanded the gates to be opened, and prepared to hear the terms of surrender.

The court was full of those most loyal to their master as Kalen sat upon the Seat of the House, awaiting his victors to arrive. It was to his shock and distain that Pelian Dovan walked into the courtyard with thirty mercenaries. Making his way before Kalen, Pelian openly sneered, all traces of the loyal and caring servant was gone, and Kalen sat in stunned horror. "Why?" was the only word that would come to his lips. With an wicked smile, Pelian stepped aside and bowed toward the door.

Edonis the Plagued needed no introduction. Kalen's great uncle Kinzil told the stories, and the described the man to the letter. But it was impossible for this man to be alive and well, for he would need to be close to two hundred years old now. Nevertheless, Edonis did stand before him with a triumphant smile. With an eerie voice, the necromancer spoke to the son of Terenor. "Remove yourself from that chair, boy, and give an old man his place of honor."

The shock that held Kalen frozen was removed at this black soul's command, and the famed heat of his rage ignited. He stood and drew the sword Arwendain from its scabbard. The blade blazed white, but before he could do more, Edonis pointed a gnarled finger to one of the servants standing within the crowd. A gurgling sound came from the woman's throat and she fell over, black faced before she hit the ground.

"Continue this if you wish, but for every move you make against me, another will die, and in the end, you still will not have won."

For an instant, Kalen froze with Arwendain held high. Then with resignation, he sheathed the blade back into the scabbard, then placed it against the chair. Edonis ordered the mercenaries to take hold of Kalen and stand him before the seat. He smiled arrogantly as he stood before the chair, and gestured for Kalen to kneel before him. Kalen had no choice. Edonis sat, and placed the sword across his knees. Edonis savored the moment and was more than happy to explain his victories over the years. Surviving the Battle of Arwendain, staying alive during the first years when the manhunt for all Hei'dant Al was on, and how he had managed the cheat death by offering his very body as an instrument for revenge. It was the end of that recital that he came to his point.

"Now, good Kalen Arwendain, you see you have fallen, and you will not live past this night. True, I will pass from this world not long after you, but I will be around long enough to set things right for the Hei'dant Al. What was once ours, is ours again. We have captured your estates in secret, and in secret we shall build again from the Plains of the Karanas. Your people, who were free from us for a time, will be doubly cursed for their rebellion. They will toil with no rest at our word, and we shall live triumphantly at their expense. And here is the part that I have waited for the most. All the world will feel the Hand of Ruin once again, but they will feel it through the House of Arwendain."

At those last words, Kalen's very soul ignited in fiery rage. Edonis rose and unsheathed the sword, but the blade flashed brilliantly as it could not stand to be grasped by such evil. Edonis and all his men close to him were blinded for a moment. It was within this moment the son of Kelger moved. Wresting the blade form the necromancer's hands, he turned it and with all his strength drove it into the man's heart, to the very hilt. Edonis let out a soundless scream of agony. The sword burst his heart, but he could not die while Kalen lived. Kalen pulled the blade free as the Plagued fell into the chair, quivering from the death throws that could not claim him. Turning and holding the sword Arwendain high, Kalen and his loyal people took down the hired mercenaries by strength of numbers. It was Pelian Dovan who felt the worst of it, as the people set into him last.

Kalen looked out from his house and saw the numbers of the enemy outside his gates. Though the Plagued still lay convulsing and his minions were slain within the home, there would be no victory from the army that surrounded him. Standing for the last time before the Seat of the House of Arwendain, Kalen Arwendain spoke his last words to those loyal to him. Words that still ring in the ears of every descendant of the house.

"The House of Arwendain shall never be used to serve evil! The sword Arwendain shall be dimmed for not extinguished! Its light shall be hidden from the world for a season, but one day it will come forth again, and with its return, the evil that has touched our land shall tremble, and be rent apart! My orders are simple! Flee, House of Arwendain! Hide yourselves and live! Live, and await the day of your master's return! The House of Arwendain will return!"

With that, the whole house of Arwendain fled. The guards of the house sacrificed themselves to create a path through the enemy on the road. The enemy was caught off guard by the sudden charge and run. Before it was over, many were hunted and slaughtered. But not all. Some made their escape, and made the plots of the Hei'dant Al known. In time, all nations were told of the Hei'dant Al once again, and so another army came against a much weaker Hei'dant Al, and flushed them out for what seemed the last time.

Edonis the Plagued, it was said, suffered for a good long time before he found a way to repair the damaged heart and rid himself of the agony of the death that would not come. He was not captured in that final battle, and it is assumed even now he still lives and holds the reigns of the Hei'dant Al. As for Kalen, he was first assumed dead. However, the sword was never found, and Edonis still lived, so the Hei'dant Al knew the son of Terenor lived. As they continued to build their power, they also continued their hunt for the sword and its wielder, at the very zealous command of Edonis.

The House of Arwendain was never reclaimed or reestablished in the plains of the Karanas. For the Western House of Arwendain became nemesis to the Hei'dant All that day, and any who claimed that name on human tongue would soon be hunted and destroyed.

It is said the words of Kalen Arwendain are prophetic. That one day Arwendain will return, and with it, a people shall rise up and destroy an evil that gripped the world. There are those that do lay claim, secretly, to the name of Arwendain, either descendants of the noble line or descendants of the servants loyal to their lord. They are a hidden people, awaiting their birthright to be restored. And when the day of the return comes, they will stand as a great number, ready to follow their lord.

Let the return of Arwendain come.

[Korg Ironhand]

The Line of Arwendain

This is the line of Arwendain, from Terenor Quinsman, down to Baldor Quisen and his heir Brago Baldorson.

Terenor Arwendain, brother of Kinzil Arwendain, first Lord of Estates of the Western House of Arwendain.

Kelger Arwendain, first son of Terenor, heir and Lord of Estates.

Kalen Arwendain, second son of Kelger, heir and last Lord of Estates.

Kinzil Quinsman, first son of Kalen, traveling merchant.

Arimor Kinzilson, third son of Kinzil, traveling guard and soldier.

Alahon Quinsen, first son of Arimor, council member of North Freeport.

Mason Alason, first son of Alahon, shop owner of West Freeport, forced to flee by the Hei'dant Al.

Eldon Shoreman, second son of Masun, sea man, across the Erud Ocean.

Tangane Quisen, first son of Eldon, shop owner of North Qeynos.

Barimor Quisen, first son of Tangane, traveling merchant, first to hold ties to Highkeep.

Baldor Quisen, first son of Barimor, traveling merchant.

Brago Baldorson, second son of Baldor, traveling merchant.

[Korg Ironhand]

Brago Baldorson

This is the account of Brago, son of Baldor, son of Barimor, and the story of his son and heir, Altimor.

Brago, son of Baldor, was a man born to a merchant, and a merchant he became. But though the title of mobility did not rest upon his head openly, he was noble in heart and in spirit. A humble and handsome man, with bold features, auburn hair and keen brown eyes. Strong of conviction and will, he grew in favor among all who loved good things. For Brago traveled far and wide in the world of Norrath, and was known by many for the quality of his works and wares, and for his farness. Both noble and ignoble would hail him as friend, and he would oft times stand for the cause of the afflicted whenever the need arose. For, though not a soldier, Brago was skilled with the sword, having need to protect his livelihood from bandits and thieves. He was, however, never hailed more than for his heart, which was always and ever poured out toward the oppressed.

And Brago held another duty, one which all in his line held. In secret, Brago hunted for any clue of the Hei'dant Al, to expose their shadows with light, and mete out justice to them, either through exposure or personal justice. It was a task every descendant of Arwendain was set to, one that all had performed for almost three hundred years in hiding. The line of Arwendain struck at the shadows from the shadows, ever hiding, and always chasing.

And it came to be in the summer of the Great Blessing, where men stood up in the East Karanas to beat down the campaign of the goblin host and routed them before the gates of High Pass, that Brago was found among the men and Halflings (the elves would not come), meting out justice to the goblin enemy. Though his role in the battle was small in and of itself, it was fated. For, as he gave chase to the fleeing remnants of the enemy's third infantry, he pursued them on horseback to the low hills to the north, as was pierced by a wild arrow from the panicked goblins, when he strayed from the strength of his group.

This would have been the end of the line of Terenor, for the missile bit deep and was poisoned, if the man had not the frame of mind to turn to a cottage home he had spied upon his descent into the lowlands. He spurred his pony to a gallop, and reached the homestead as the light of the fading sun gave the day up to the night, and he slipped form his saddle and remembered no more.

Upon his waking, he found himself laying in a simple, one room cottage, with the aroma of sweet meat in the air. He sat up gingerly, and began to survey his surroundings from his corner of the room. He did not finish before the door opened, and from without came forth a young maiden, carrying the day's water into the home. A young woman of pale golden hair, with a simple elegance that escaped most ladies who dwelt in manors. Immediately the man was struck by her beauty, and he thought to himself, "Never in all my days, from beginning to end, will I see such a beautiful sight as this maiden's loveliness again." Upon her entry she spied him in his bed, awake and alert, and she made her gladness known. For it was she and her family who had nursed him back from the grip of death, though indeed it was more she than they.

In the following days, as Brago came to know this young woman, he healed quickly, due to her care and ministrations. Her name was Elenor Valerose, and to him her name sounded like a voice calling him home from a long and troubling journey. As he prepared to return to the field of battle, from which by now he would be missed, he knew he could not leave this woman without his heart rending in two. On the day of his departure, Brago asked Elenor for her hand in marriage. She responded with a kiss, and Brago knew she was as in love with him as he with her. Brago asked the family for their blessing, but indeed, the household had been expecting his request, for they had seen the love between the man and woman, and knew it was a forgone conclusion that they should be joined for the remainder of their years. So it was that in the spring of the following year, Brago, son of Baldor, took Elenor Valerose as his wife..

As the years pressed on, Brago and his wife Elenor grew in love and in friendship. For indeed, through Brago had known the friendship and fellowship of many folks of many races, he had never known any whom he felt more loved by and at ease with, and his heart was cleaved to Elenor's in a way no man can put to words. And Elenor felt as he did, as akin to him as her own self. Through times of ease and times of strife, they held to each other and did not fear the loss of love, for they were one heart in two forms.

They traveled the land, the width and the breadth of it, many times over, for such was the nature of Brago's business. And Elenor did not resent having no room and roof to return to, for she loved the land, and the sea, and the sky. She and he had a charity for nature and all good things, and enjoyed the experience of culture and knowledge that few in the world had opportunity to know.

And Brago's wealth grew, though not enough to set him out as more than a merchant of moderate wealth. His profits were curtailed on account of his love of beautiful things. Indeed, had his wealth included his private collection, he would have been held in high esteem among many nobles. In this horde were beautiful things, priceless things. Things that have been gathered by his hand in trade, and recognized by his eye as belonging to certain households, or crafted by certain jewelers, or forged in times of certain wars.

And so it was that he came by fortune into the ownership of a most prized possession. Long ago, in the days of his forefather Arimor Kinzilson, the Torc of the Eastern House of Arwendain went missing. It was at this time that the heirs of the Western House discontinued wearing their torc, for the torcs' magical qualities could not work unless they were worn. This was a great loss to both houses, for through it was agreed no open support would be made to the line of Terenor for fear of exposure, help was sent from Kaladim when the ruling lord felt his counterpart was in need. And so it was that Brago came upon the torc for sale at an estate auction. When Brago chanced upon it, he was taken back by his outrageous fortune, for it was indeed the same design and gem as his own, just as the reflection of a mirror would have been.

Though he loved these things above any amount of silver of gold, these treasures Brago kept hidden from all but Elenor, for fear of word reaching the ears of the Hei'dant Al, as well as those who would steal. And he was content, for even more than these things he loved his wife, his work and his breath. He lacked but one good thing, by his reckoning. A child upon whom he could pour out his love and affections like the rain over the field. And in the Spring of Healing, when the fields of the West Karanas were healed from the draught, Elenor conceived and shared with him the hope of a child's laughter.

At the promise of a child to bless their home, Brago and Elenor's joy knew no bounds, and their hearts soared high and free as the clouds over the earth. Though the struggles of traveling and the discomfort of Elenor's pregnancy were very real to them both, not a day would go by where there was not a song on their lips and a stirring in their hearts. If not for the necessity of seeing to business and the daily tasks of life, they would have burst in expectancy. Elenor grew by day after the fourth month. Indeed, Brago had noted the many comments made by their acquaintances regarding her girth. A time came when he was concerned enough to seek a healer's words on the matter. The worry was unfounded, for she was pronounced very well and healthy, and they continued with their minds at ease.

Though many were the things Brago wished to teach his child, it seemed to him that one lesson, one legacy, was of most importance to him, and he would often share his thoughts with his beloved. The joy of compassion, which had been passed down from his ancestor Terenor, was the foremost quality of life he wished to breathe into his children. He loved his vocation and his life well enough, but the love of all good things, a love toward all that produced beauty and goodness, this indeed was the divine passion he wished to share with his offspring more than any other thing. He made his heart known to Elenor frequently, and as he went about his tasks and chores of life, this desire was ever in the shadow of his mind, and he hoped it would be so.

So the day came when Elenor's labor begin. She travailed, and lo! She gave birth to twins! Each, and boy and a girl, were fair of hair, and they were immediately recognized as their mother's children. Brago was overjoyed, and not a little relieved, and for the labor had been hard on his beloved, and there was fear for her life. But that shadow had passed, and after Elenor was tended to and rested, Brago walked about the land with his children, one in each arm.

As Brago walked, he looked about the country he was in. He was atop the high moors near the Everfrost, in the rare season that the snow receded and gave way to heather and other green things. He loved this land more than all he had seen in his days. It was a lofty place, and the wind that blew upon it stirred his soul. And among the heather, scattered about in clusters and small fields, were altea petals, a small flower, beautiful and sweet of scent. So it was that he came upon a high place, and looked out over Norrath, and named his son Altimor, "the high moors" in the tongue of both the humans and the barbarians of that land, and named his daughter Altea, for the beautiful flowers that graced the countryside about him.

[Korg Ironhand]

Altimor and Altea

Brago and Elenor poured themselves into their beloved children, and as the two grew, they began more and more to take on the traits of their parents, both in body and in character. Their features were the mirror of Elenor, for Brago was a man stout, with bold features, auburn hair, and keen brown eyes. But Elenor's form and face were fine, soft features. Her deep blue eyes were bright and merry, and her flaxen hair was strong and full. In regard to spirit, however, Brago's heart beat strong within them. He was a leader among men, having authority in his voice and a command of himself that was to be admired. He was also known for possessing a rogue's humor, merry and mischievous. The siblings took the likeness of their father in this way, and grew to be his pride and honor, a testimony to his life.

As the years passed and the twins continued to mature, they became tall and beautiful. Altea blossomed into a maiden of stunning beauty, though a wholesome and contented air kept with her, and she did not consider herself above any other. She was not, however, the perfect suit for a suitor. She was not one to sit demurely in her place while others made the choices of life for her, and she often chastised the men around her for the foolish things done in the name of chivalry, her brother being no exception. Altimor became a handsome and tall youth, with a heart the soared sometimes beyond good sense. He had inherited his father's love of fairness, and he gave genuine interest for those oppressed, giving aid whenever fate gave opportunity to give aid. Truly, he found early on that helping a soul in need was a thing most satisfying to him. He also inherited his father's rogue streak, and it was no secret that his mind was preoccupied with the other sex from his early days.

It came to pass that Altimor and Altea would soon come of age in the land of Norrath. Brago and Elenor instructed them in the matter of earning a living for themselves, a task they had set to years before. Brago had hoped at one time that his son would follow him in the ways of merchantmen, and that his lovely daughter would find a good husband to provide for her. But it became evident early on that both children were destined for a higher call. For there burned in Altimor's eyes as earnest desire to help others, and he would seek a vocation of office to further this goal. Then Altimor, still a youth, came to see the Temples of Marr, and learned of the duties and principles these people upheld. His mind, and yea, his heart was set in its path from that day forth. As for Altea, it became clear that she was not in the presence of mind to marry for the sake of marriage. So it came to be that not Altimor, but Altea was to be the apprentice of their father, and so the family business would be continued.

The Heritage of Arwendain

And the time came that soon the twins would celebrate their eighteenth birthday, and much was done to prepare for it. On a night in late winter, at the edge of the Kelithin Forest, Brago brought them out of the rain into his tent, and sat them down before him. He and Elenor then shared with them many things they had learned in life, both good and bad, and gave them instructions from their hearts, as a father and mother to their children.

It was then that Brago, son of Baldor, heir to the Western House of Arwendain, revealed to his children their true heritage. Brago revealed the true line of his fathers, and the whole of their story. Brago revealed to his children the heirlooms he had kept secret all the years. To Altimor he gave the Torc of the Western House, and to Altea, he gave the gem of the Eastern House, from which he removed from the torc and placed within a chain a pendant, and instructed them both in the lore of it. Altimor and Altea loved each other deeper than words could convey, and this gift from their father was a blessing to match that love. For it was a concern of the twins that when they parted, they would not be able to find each other.

Then Brago turned to Altimor, and drew forth the mighty sword Arwendain, and explained the history of it. Of the creation of it, of the love behind it, of the significance of it. He explained the words of Kalen Arwendain, and what meaning those words held to a lost people. And, he explained, it was Altimor's heritage.

As Brago turned the sword's hilt toward his son, a sudden welling of the soul came to Altimor, and his eyes brimmed with tears. He would not take the heirloom from his father's hand. His father, not sure of his son's actions or reasons, duplicated the action. But Altimor explained his heart to his father, as one sharing his most intimate thoughts.

"I will not take this blade so worthy of the honor of my father and his fathers before him. I have seen you, my father, as a man of truest strength and sincerity, always putting others before himself. But now I see where that strength flows from. The line of fathers before me humbles me to nothing. I am not yet proven. I am still a mere boy in battle and in life, and I would not defile the memory of those who, as I, wished with all their hearts to restore the hope and love of all good things, as you have ever taught me in word and deed. For do you not know, father, that I wish above all treasures and precious things to walk as you do?"

At these words, his father wept. For more than anything, Brago wanted his children to live as he did. Not in vocation, which can change from need to need, nor in character, which is not in itself everlasting, but in spirit. In the freedom to serve others, and to feel and uphold the love of all good things. And Brago embraced his son and daughter, and the night grew to morning before the family was done sharing their souls.

So it was that on the day of the winter solstice, Altimor bade farewell to his father, and his mother, and his sister. It was agreed that when he had made a good name for himself, and settled in his mind that he could indeed keep the blade in honor, and with safety, that Altimor, son of Brago, would claim his heirloom, and perhaps one day wield it openly in honor of Goodness.

Standing on the crest of a hill, he stood looking down upon the hills of the East Commonlands. He turned to give a final, joyful wave to his beloved family, whom were still looking to him with the light of love and expectancy in their eyes. He turned his face toward the city of Freeport, and went forward in the name of hope, and in the love of all good things.