• This game has been marked for deletion.
Mystery and Mecha Adventuring Company

A half elven bard with reddish blond hair and a slight well trimmed mustache begins to strum his lute. He is dressed in leathers and a rapier with well used pommel and handle hangs at his side. On his head a large three cornered hat with trailing tropical bird feather as decoration.

"Gather round lads and lasses and hear my tale, a tale of the way things were and the way they came to be. A long time ago before the wars which savaged our great continent of Khorvair there was a kingdom like no other. The kingdom of Galifar was like a glittering jewel that brought us to great heights. The mighty lightning rails that criss cross our nations bringing hundreds of tons and people from villages and towns to the great cities and back were made during this golden age. So to the mighty airships that sail the clouds bringing nobles and merchants here and there carried aloft on elemental wings were the creation of that time. Indeed my friends back then there were not five nations but one unified kingdom. The Kingdom of Galifar." He smiles almost as if he remembered it and perhaps he did by virtue of his half elven heritage.

"Yes, the kingdom was a mighty empire that stretched from one end of Khorvair to the other and most importantly there was prosperity and peace for all. The goblins and orcs that were civilized were even invited to share in this prosperity and that is why the Eldean reaches and other places though wild still have orcs and others that know the ways of peace, trade and society. The Elves of Valanar and the Mror Dwarves were not separate nations but all part of the kingdom."

The bard shook his head sadly, "Ahhh but this time was not to last even though it had survived a thousand years. King Jarot ir' Wynarn had given out the leadership of parts of the kingdom to his children. Even then things went prosperous and well. Yet the dark days came when the great King Jarot died. His children did not agree with his choice of heir and the great war, the horror that has touched all our lives. Sibling against sibling, the kingdom of Galifar fell apart and became the five nations we know of today. The war lasted over a hundred years but this is something we all know passed down from grandfather, to father and father to son. We have all lost loved ones and friends due to the war, a toast in their honor !"

Nearly everyone in the tavern lifted glasses and shared in the toast more then a few tears were shed as well as memories of those who had died trying to bring their nation to ascension came flooding back.

The bard waited a time for the tavern to grow quiet, "Aye, tis good we remember so such folly does not return to us."

Several lifted glasses to that but others offered dark stares and muttered curses.

"All the wonders of the Kingdom of Galifar were turned to war. House Vadalis who made beasts of burden and farm animals that produced more meat, fertilizer and work animals to till the fields turned to making beasts of war. The horrors we know as dire animals are directly attributed to them now and the descendants of these war beasts plague good people to this day. The Masters of creation and transportation House Cannith and Orien, makers of the lightning rail and mighty skyships and wonders that brought light to the cities and warmth to our hearths changed as well. House Orien was tasked with transporting masses of troups to many a border for battles and House Cannith the wondermakers turned to the mass production of weapons and even created the warforged to replace the many who died with mass produced soldiers."

"They were not alone many a dragonmarked house profited from the war but all suffered it's effects."

He took off his hat holding it above his heart, "This war seemed destined to last till all nations fell in the mad attempt to reforge the kingdom in their own image. Save for the horror we know of as the Day of Mourning."

At this a table nearby closed their eyes and seemed to hold a respectful posture.

At another table a man with scarred face rose, "Bloody immigrants, Cyrian's take our jobs and demand land that isn't theirs !"

The table that had been respectfully quiet suddenly burst into yelling of their own.
It was obvious these were refugees from Cyre.

The bard quickly stepped between the two and raised his arms, "Please gentleman, please tis only a tale meant to inform the young and remind the old of the hardship we all went through. Drinks my friend, drinks to the both of you on me."

This seemed to calm the flared emotions.

"Yes tis on the Day of Mourning that an entire nation was destroyed, a thousand villages, a hundred towns, a handful of major cities snuffed like a candle blown out by a hurricane. Cyre is now the Mournland and no sane person choses to go there. Yet this tragedy is what gave us the peace we have today."

Several people nod as if in understanding and acceptance.

"For whatever dread weapon of war that went off in Cyre, or failed experiment that was to be used in the war was a wake up call to just how far some were willing to go."

The bard put his hat back on, "No nation accepted responsibility for that tragedy, no nation wanted to win the war so badly they would see all of Khorvaire drowned in blood. So it was that this horror shook many hearts and in time the Treaty of Thronehold came to be. Now a few years after the treaty was signed perhaps the fear of being wiped out like Cyre has faded from some peoples minds, so it is that we must remember lest this tragedy strike another nation. Let not our rulers move too much towards agression, we must speak with open hearts and cooler minds that we want peace to last. That we want prosperity to return, and that we wish the great war to be the last war."

Many in the tavern applauded the bard as he bowed and made good on paying for the drinks he had promised.