Forgotten Darkness

Prologue

Thousands of years ago the god of the universe formed the earth out of a vast expanse of nothingness. He formed animals, trees, plants, and expanses of water, but most important of all he formed races to protect the earth and dwell in it.

First he formed the elder races: the Elves, the Urki, and the Dwarves. He then formed the minor races: the Humans, the Pixies, and the Egal.

To each race he gave a gift. To the elves he gave the skill of magic; to them it was almost a sixth sense. To the Urki he gave the power of strength. They could fight like rhinos and they were given the duty of protecting the earth. To the Dwarves he gave the skill of the ground. Their power of the earth was known to all and matched by none.

He blessed the elder races with the knowledge of the language of heaven, also known as the ancient language. He also blessed the minor races. He gave the gift of engineering to the Humans, allowing them to form weapons such as catapults. To the Pixies he gave the gift of wings, small and agile as butterflies were they. The Egal were given the power of the seas. They had the power of the water and skills with ships and sailing. God, lord of the universe, blessed these minor races with the language of man, which was only spoken on the earth.

Once all the races had been formed and blessed their god allowed them to choose the territory they would live in. The elves chose the forest of Valdraermisr, which was located in the north, near the Mountains of Ilmara, to protect their secrets of magic. The Urki wished to live in strength and protection. They chose the western side of the Mountains of Ilmara. The Dwarves chose the eastern section of mountains, but for a different reason: It had tall peaks to build their cities, and deep in the ground there were huge deposits of diamond and gold, too deep for any race not skilled with the ground.

Then the minor races chose. The humans could not decide between the east and west coast so they built nations on both. They chose the coasts to allow trade and fishing, while also allowing inland trading. The Pixies found no place worthy, but they scattered themselves in Valdraermisr to learn the power of magic from the elves. The Egal disliked the other nations and chose the island of Graldra, off the west coast, to be their home so they could isolate themselves from the others and experiment in the art of shipbuilding and navigation.

Their god had meant the races to share their gifts, but against his wishes, they horded the skills like forgotten treasures and attempted to steal other's gifts. Some, such as the Pixies, succeeded in taking the secrets of magic. Yet even with this foolishness the world they called Unisus lived in peace for hundreds of years. But, like all things, it didn't last.

Ever since their god had formed them, the Urki saw their power. They recognized the strength they held. They had been anointed the defenders and peace-keepers of earth, yet they craved destruction. Finally, they readied their forces and formed an army of nearly a million. With this army they marched toward the capital of the humans. The humans saw that if the army reached them, they would be destroyed. So they called on the elves for help. The elves saw the danger and, like the humans, knew what power the Urki had. They sent thousands to aid the humans, in cavalry, footmen, bowmen, and knights. The armies of humans and elves banded together to form a second army of equal size.

As the Urki grew close, the two armies met. The Urki fighting with brute strength and endurance, the humans fighting with machines of war, and the elves fighting with strange skill and powerful magic.

On that day more blood was shed than any other day in history. The battle lasted for days. Some soldiers grew weary from fighting and lack of sleep. They fell there and then, never to rise again. After six days of nonstop fighting and blood, the elves and the humans rained victorious. But though they won, hundreds of thousands had died. The exact number was uncountable. The Urki had suffered the most. Nearly all their men had been slain. The meager thousand or so survivors fled as fast as possible into the mountains.

On that day the plains they had fought on were named the Plains of I'smer, due to the fact the king of the elves, I'smer, died in combat.

After the battle, when the Urki reached their tribes and cities, they cursed the god of creation. They blamed him for their defeat and shattered his temples. Instead they worshiped Uthra, a god of war, an idol. It was fashioned of silver and placed in the rubble of the temple of the god that had made them. Eventually, through their hate toward the other races, they said they believed that it was telling them to take Unisus, the land that all creatures dwell upon. But this time, they had formed an ally. During the time of peace, two more races had been born.

The first was called the Argles. They had heads of bulls, bodies of men. They carried axes, swords and craved war and destruction just as much as the Urki, who they were rumored to be descendants of. Forming tribes, they ravaged the mountains out of their thirst of destruction. The second was an even stranger, more mysterious race then the elves. They were called the Drakons and in their palms they carried mystic stones that they used to call on their patron dragon gods, transforming them into serpents of incredible strength. Loremasters and storytellers called them the offspring of demons but no one truly knew.

Sending messengers to these races, the Urki asked for their allegiance and their soldiers.

The races gladly accepted.

The elves saw this and told the humans. Instantly, the nations prepared for war. The dwarves saw the war that was developing and wisely elected to stay away and let things work themselves out. All races in the war were furious with the dwarves' choice, but had far more urgent things to attend to. The Drakons had built an empire on the east coast, cutting down the size of the human kingdom, Samal, there. The elves prepared to storm this empire of Drakons while the humans defended them. The pixies also rose in arms for the Urki. On the battlefields, spells flew from both sides as knights smashed each other into the dust and dragon Drakons would burn the bones of both into charcoal or snap them in two with their claws. Blood poured in rivers and streams, dying them red. Bodies lay in piles.

After three years of destruction and war, the god of above had had enough. No one knows how he did it, but he cast the nations back to their elected realms. Each race had lost about two thirds of its population, save the Pixies who lost practically their entire race. It was the single worst war in history that ever had been or would be.

The memory of this war and its consequences were burned into the minds of the eight races, though only six participated in the destruction. Even with this horrible reminder another dark king would arise from the land of the humans, dwelling on the eastern coast. His name was Malthorn. For many years his name was unknown, as was he, but two-thousand years after the war of the six races, known as the Ancient War, he would once again cast a dark shadow over the land of Unisus and throw the races into another battle for their freedom.