MRPolo13
The Arbiter of the Gods
OOC Preface
This book is written by Albareth, and shows his views as an old, bitter man. Any opinions written are entirely his own. Please don’t take this as an attack on anyone specific. I honestly don’t have anything against anyone. This all happened ages ago anyway. This is not what Spear teased at either when talking about history of Hollow World. This is entirely IC, and not OOC. It was also never meant to be unbiased. Consider it a primary source, which can’t really be considered entirely accurate but also might provide some perspective for players that haven’t been on the server at the time. So yeah, enjoy
Preface
My father, Lord Polo Destrius-Hawklight, born after the First Cataclysm, who loyally served King Axex since the time when he was still the leader of the Order of the Fallen Radiant, has written many tomes of journals over the centuries that he had the privilege of living through. I myself, without a shadow of arrogance, have been through a lot, as a holy man and a disgraced man. A once great soldier, who led men and women into battle against Demons of Grief, and now just a frail, old man. This is a chronicle of sorts, detailing the history of Altera as seen from the perspective of myself, Albareth Destrius, and my father, Lord Polo Destrius-Hawklight, as we lived through these years, fighting for – and against – Altera.
Chapter 1: The Second Exodus
These chronicles, for rather obvious reasons, paint my father in an at least positive picture. But he wasn’t always a lord, getting his title from King Axex I of Hawklight. In fact, he started as a miner in a small city of Digitus Dei. This was some few hundred years ago, at least, though timekeeping was not as precise back then as we have now. Born to a local blacksmith, my father had a relatively easy early life, though post-cataclysmic Altera was a dangerous place. These dangers brought about an attack from demons one day. The attack wiped out his village, and as far as he knew he was the only one left alive. For weeks he stumbled, until he made it to Port Silver, the bustling capital of the Northern Kingdoms of antiquity. No food was to be made in Port Silver, for Queen Grief attacked it a few days prior. He set sail wherever he could go for free, poor and broken, aged only twenty, though back then age was a lot more loose even on us humankind, which is why my father could live for as long as he did – he must have been about a thousand years old when he died.
He arrived in Digitus Dei. It was a tall tower, with houses floating around it on clouds via magic, as he attests. The town itself was in a valley in the middle of the ocean. Once again, magic allowed it to float even on the mightiest tides that the sea could muster. His story truly began there, though a book might be written on his journey alone. He became a miner and an adventurer, though those two now seem rather far apart from each other. The city’s approach to employment was relatively loose, and the mine was more of a quarry from the implications of the many documents he has drawn up.
As you may have guessed, these were the times of turmoil. Queen Grief’s power was at its peak, and Demons would prowl through the countryside. The respite of safety that Digitus Dei provided may have made some lazy, but not my father. He swore to himself that he would fight undead and be a loyal man to the core, a promise that he kept his whole life, and one that has not gone without note. Sokken, the mayor of Digitus Dei and a member of the Honourable Order of the Fallen Radiant, requested that my father be accepted into the order. Lord Axex, the man we know as the King of Hierax now, was happy to oblige. Lord Polo grew in status, but evil was still strong in those times.
A few years went by, with my father learning the intricacies of the sword and of politics. He became a good knight, leading a few charges against the forces of Grief himself, even while suffering from panic attacks every night the Black Moon gloomily rose above the lands, for that is when the village of his youth was destroyed. Though the people of the time tried their best to halt the advance of Grief through the borders, Her evil forces could not be stopped, and Her path was littered with the bodies of many. Even gods’ and beings beyond gods’ powers could not halt Grief, and so the Second Exodus commenced when a great portal opened to let the people escape to a new world, as our kind has been wont to do over the centuries. It was around this time that the Ancient Dwarven race has lost its king, possibly during the wars against Grief, and the Dwarves since were only a minor partner in the politics of Lonmar. A sad end for once mighty Dwarven kingdoms, though to this day their craftsmen and their axemen are renowned all across Altera.
This book is written by Albareth, and shows his views as an old, bitter man. Any opinions written are entirely his own. Please don’t take this as an attack on anyone specific. I honestly don’t have anything against anyone. This all happened ages ago anyway. This is not what Spear teased at either when talking about history of Hollow World. This is entirely IC, and not OOC. It was also never meant to be unbiased. Consider it a primary source, which can’t really be considered entirely accurate but also might provide some perspective for players that haven’t been on the server at the time. So yeah, enjoy
History of Altera, as Written by Albareth Destrius
Preface
My father, Lord Polo Destrius-Hawklight, born after the First Cataclysm, who loyally served King Axex since the time when he was still the leader of the Order of the Fallen Radiant, has written many tomes of journals over the centuries that he had the privilege of living through. I myself, without a shadow of arrogance, have been through a lot, as a holy man and a disgraced man. A once great soldier, who led men and women into battle against Demons of Grief, and now just a frail, old man. This is a chronicle of sorts, detailing the history of Altera as seen from the perspective of myself, Albareth Destrius, and my father, Lord Polo Destrius-Hawklight, as we lived through these years, fighting for – and against – Altera.
Chapter 1: The Second Exodus
These chronicles, for rather obvious reasons, paint my father in an at least positive picture. But he wasn’t always a lord, getting his title from King Axex I of Hawklight. In fact, he started as a miner in a small city of Digitus Dei. This was some few hundred years ago, at least, though timekeeping was not as precise back then as we have now. Born to a local blacksmith, my father had a relatively easy early life, though post-cataclysmic Altera was a dangerous place. These dangers brought about an attack from demons one day. The attack wiped out his village, and as far as he knew he was the only one left alive. For weeks he stumbled, until he made it to Port Silver, the bustling capital of the Northern Kingdoms of antiquity. No food was to be made in Port Silver, for Queen Grief attacked it a few days prior. He set sail wherever he could go for free, poor and broken, aged only twenty, though back then age was a lot more loose even on us humankind, which is why my father could live for as long as he did – he must have been about a thousand years old when he died.
He arrived in Digitus Dei. It was a tall tower, with houses floating around it on clouds via magic, as he attests. The town itself was in a valley in the middle of the ocean. Once again, magic allowed it to float even on the mightiest tides that the sea could muster. His story truly began there, though a book might be written on his journey alone. He became a miner and an adventurer, though those two now seem rather far apart from each other. The city’s approach to employment was relatively loose, and the mine was more of a quarry from the implications of the many documents he has drawn up.
A few years went by, with my father learning the intricacies of the sword and of politics. He became a good knight, leading a few charges against the forces of Grief himself, even while suffering from panic attacks every night the Black Moon gloomily rose above the lands, for that is when the village of his youth was destroyed. Though the people of the time tried their best to halt the advance of Grief through the borders, Her evil forces could not be stopped, and Her path was littered with the bodies of many. Even gods’ and beings beyond gods’ powers could not halt Grief, and so the Second Exodus commenced when a great portal opened to let the people escape to a new world, as our kind has been wont to do over the centuries. It was around this time that the Ancient Dwarven race has lost its king, possibly during the wars against Grief, and the Dwarves since were only a minor partner in the politics of Lonmar. A sad end for once mighty Dwarven kingdoms, though to this day their craftsmen and their axemen are renowned all across Altera.
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