The Fortress of Khazan Dar
Khazan Dar, Kingdom of MarkothIt was the eve of the Feast of the Fallen, a high holiday for the chosen of Tyr. Before a roaring fire, Durga Skycaller, chief shaman of Khazan Dar, perched upon a stone seat and spoke in chanting tones to a group of orclings sitting before him.
“Millennia ago, during the Age of Creation, Maerios, God of the Earth, forged the mortal world of Acheron from the Void. The world attracted the attentions of other gods, and they too made their mark on the planet. Khasku, Goddess of the Sea, made the oceans, which allowed the Gods of Life and Nature used their combined force to bring flora and fauna to the desolate rock. They were followed by Celestius, God of Knowledge, who took it upon himself to alter some of those creatures, to create a race of intelligent beings. The other gods followed his example and used their own skills – in some cases knowledge stolen from Library of Celestius – to create their own races of sapient beings. This included Tyr, the God of War, and his chosen people were the orcs.
“At the very beginning of the Age of Dawn, Tyr created thirteen orcs. Into them he breathed his essences: honour and courage, ferocity and cunning, strength and endurance. These were the progenitors of the Thirteen Clans, and to each of them, Tyr gifted three females. From them, the orc race flourished.
“Tyr set his chosen upon the eastern shores of Wacia and thence the thirteen patriarchs wandered the land seeking defensible homes. An immediate claim was made by Guldar Stormsong, there upon the shores of the bay. Thaenos Bladefist challenged the claim and the first prayers to Tyr were sung. The others formed a circle and bore witness as for three days and nights, the orc lords battled. Much blood was shed, so much that the hollows of the littoral landscape filled with hot pools of it. Near the moonrise of the third night, Thaenos stumbled upon a stone and Guldar prepared to make the killing blow. But Tyr himself interceded, staying Guldar’s hand. He decreed unto the Thirteen that no orc could slay another and that the covenant would last for twelve generations in order to ensure that the orc race would prosper. To break the covenant would invite the wrath of Tyr.
“And thus the first orc fortress was established. Guldar named his hold in honour of the first battle and Blood Hollow survives to this very day, still ruled by the Stormsong Clan. Thaenos and his wives crossed the Strait of Spears to the east and, on the southern shores of Ashfall Island, established the fortress of Bladespire, where his descendant Kosh Bladefist is now Warlord.
“For nine years, the clan lords wandered, claiming their holds. To the northeast, Morgath Shadowmoon built Ravendell on the island that bears his clan name. In the Khazan Vale, Baelar Bloodrune carved his
dar from the heart of a mountain. Kaldosh Frostwind established Torgul Dar on the snowy slopes of the volcanic Mount Cindar.
“Finally, the last two patriarchs came to the northwest, upon the basalt beaches of Burning Bay. One of them claimed the hill there and the other challenged the claim. The two clan lords fought with their bare hands as Tyr had forbidden killing, but it soon became clear that one was stronger than the other. When the weaker orc was cast to the ground he became enraged. Snatching a nearby shard of obsidian he slashed the throat of the other, killing him. As the last of the clan lord’s blood soaked into the coarse black sand, Tyr appeared and saw what had been done.
“In his fury, he smote the murderer with a terrible curse. No songs or legends have ever recounted the name of that cursed patriarch, but it is believed that he fled Markoth and became the father of the goblins – shriveled and spiteful, wasted and weak. Of the other, we know his name: Mordaen.
“Tyr bargained with Valantar for the return of Mordaen’s soul. Even after paying a heavy toll, Tyr was able to recover only half of the soul. To this very day, the Dark Scar clan – named for the mark that forever remained on Mordaen’s throat – rule over Duskhome and favour the dark night. Their pale hides and morbid tendencies derive from the scourged half of their souls. Though they are twilight-touched, they remain a loyal and venerable clan.
“The other clan lords made their claims and their fortunes through the centuries have waxed and waned like the moons of Acheron. The Blackhand, Ironhide, Shieldbreaker, Thunderhorn, Doomshaper, and Skycaller clans still rule, though their holdings are smaller.
“Now, after the twelve generations had passed, and the cursed clan lord’s name was forgotten, the clans fell to disagreement and contention. Wars were fought over lines on leathern maps, for the bounties of Wacia, and for the favour of Tyr. Females were stolen, orclings slaughtered, and the orcish race reeled upon the razor edge of extinction. The clan lords called for a halt to the fighting and met in a conclave upon a great open plateau on the ash plains. It was there that they agreed to unite under the rule of a king. But who would claim the crown?
“Unarmoured and with bare hands, they fought each other for the throne. None were killed, but one by one, the lesser contenders were defeated and knelt. At last Khaern Shieldbreaker emerged victorious and crowned our first king. Tyr was proud of the clan lords’ wisdom and he appeared to them there. He decreed that the king shall be of no clan and all clans equally. And when one king was dead, the next would win his crown in the same way as the first.
“Khaern named his brother Warlord of the Shieldbreaker clan and ruled as king for thirty-seven summers. He founded the capital there on the site of the conclave, building the fortress with the dark volcanic stone of the ash plains. It was named Markoth Dar, Fortress of the Unconquered in the old orcish tongue. The
dar was expanded and by successive kings, broadened and heightened, fortified and strengthened, until it became the towering black heart of the orcish kingdom.
“The day that Khaern the First King declared his original fortress completed, he called for a celebration. He decreed it a feast day in honour of Tyr and in remembrance of all the fallen orc heroes, paragons of holy War.
“That, little ones, is the story of the orcish race and of The Feast of the Fallen. And unless my snout deceives me, the feast is about to be served. Let’s go eat!”