In the dark times, in the great movements of peoples, many looked upon the shores of the land and knew joy, thinking their long wanderings ended. But the darkness had spread even unto the people of the land, and they fell upon the newcomers and slew them, men and women and children, and rejoiced in the cruelty of the deed.

Then, in their long boats, came fugitives tempered by the heat of the many battles they had fought against the darkness. And though they sought only peace, still the peoples of the land slew them, and there was great conflict.

And, through the years, others came, and alliances were made, and the peoples of the land declined and were driven to the north and into the mountains. But in their final struggles, some among them, consumed with hatred and steeped in evil, sank yet deeper into the ways of darkness and drew upon the power which was in all things, and, using it corruptly, as a terrible magic, were themselves corrupted.

And for a while, they prevailed, bringing yet more horror to the land. But as the sword begat the shield, so did their wickedness show the way to their downfall, for others learned the way of the power and, learning it more truly, were not corrupted.

And in the end they prevailed, and peace came to the land.

And the victors turned to the future.

And the memory of the great conflicts that had brought them to the land, and even the battles they had fought there, faded into legend and myth, as too did the knowledge of the use of the power.

Yet it is ever there …

Ivaroth Ungwyl reined his horse to a halt and stared around balefully. In every direction the view was the same-a flat, bleak plain spreading to a vague winter-misted horizon. It was covered with the harsh and stunted vegetation that alone could stand the bitter cold and the dry biting wind that blew there for most of the year and was blowing now.