Erathal, Elvish City
14 Julla, 1066 MT
In the land of Evorath, among the forests and the mountains, the rivers and the lakes, the plains and the swamps, there was one city that stood out. Connected to the dwarves in the mountains, the felite to the north, the lizock to the south, and to various smaller tribes throughout the main continent, the elves dominated the land in both population and resources. The kingdom of Erathal stood as a testament to the strength and intellect of elves, and to the community that had been established between all races of Evorath.
It was nothing short of a utopia.
People came and went as they pleased, merchants often traveling through with great riches. The citizens all enjoyed freedom to move about and do as they please. Disease, hunger, theft, violence – these words were only a concept; not one would dare commit such an act within the borders of this grand kingdom. At least not before today.
Today was different.
Philosophers would debate on the reason for this for years. Regardless of its cause, the day began like any other.
The sun rose in the sky like any other. Farmers tilled their fields like any other. Fishers cast their net like any other. Hunters stalked their prey like any other. Children laughed and pranced in the field like any other.
As the sun hit its highest point in the sky, things began to go a bit differently.
A convoy of dwarves was travelling from the Runeturk Mountains to the north, heading along the road and through the eastern border of the city. Though a typical day saw a handful of dwarves passing through the streets with their trading carts, there was something peculiar about this lot. None of them seemed to have any goods to trade. More noticeably, they were dressed as politicians, not as merchants.
The lead dwarf, wearing upon his face a long white beard and upon his back a long obsidian robe, walked with a somber finality in his step. Behind him marched two younger dwarves with shorter brown beards wearing simple brown furs, a sign they were subservient to the elder dwarf. To round off the group, three more marched in the rear of the group, each having a bushy brown or red beard to be proud of. They all wore the crest of the mountain upon their leather armor and carried with them battle axes as large as they were.
Heads turned as they walked through the street, merchants pausing in wonderment as to what brought such a queer party to the city. Mother’s stared on in confusion, farmers leaning upon their rakes to look at the dwarves passed by.
This convey wrapped through the city, turning through the streets and heading north towards the castle gates. Their business was inside…
