HISTORY

Legend holds that the magical land of Senidar was formed an unfathomable amount of time ago by three powerful races that held the secrets of life, death and all creation in their hands. These Ancients supposedly shaped the land from the ether and created all things. Whether these legends are true or not is impossible to determine, but there can be no doubt of the impact that these beings have had on the course Senidar has taken through history. It is only as we get closer to the present day that legend begins to fade away to documented history.

The Ancients that shaped the unliving parts of the earth, the rock and ore that we all stand upon, were the People of Metal. Great builders and architects, the People of Metal are still known for their great works of industry. They were creatures of might and iron, powerful and militaristic. From great sprawling cities of shining metal, they drove nature away and utilized lower races for the purpose of expanding their mystical empire. The humans were one such breed of domesticated creature, forced into back breaking labor and kept from culture and discovery of their own by their heavy handed masters. As these creatures of metal carapace and dark skin expanded further and further, humanity grew more and more subjugated.

The Ancients that formed all life in the world were known, appropriately, as the People of Life. Today, they are known as elves, stripped of most of their Ancient might. In the days of old, however, they were charged with creating life and nurturing it. They held a great love for all things with the gift of life, and they were said to hold a deep bond with all living creatures. Their homes never clashed with the surrounding wildlife, and they never cut down a tree in the name of expansion.

The last and most enigmatic of the Ancients were the People of Balance, creatures of fantastic power and capability. There isn’t much known of their culture, not even in legend, but the role that they played was and still is crucial to the world. You see, just as their name suggests, the People of Balance were guardians of all of Senidar, seeing to the grand order of things and making sure nothing was amiss. They served as mediation for the People of Life and the People of Metal, quelling their disputes and bringing to them the gift of understanding one another. As their knowledge and comprehension of the nature of the universe grew, they became less and less attached to the physical aspect of our reality. Long before current day Senidar, the People of Balance all simply vanished, ascending beyond the material and tangible. It is said that beyond their ethereal homes, they still keep a close eye on the home they left behind, never abandoning it or their duty.

Without the direct influence of the People of Balance, the two remaining races of Ancients began to clash more and more. The People of Metal’s enslavement of the human race became a truly bitter matter of contention. The elves saw the intelligence in the humans, saw beings not so different from themselves, and could not help but sympathize. The dispute only grew worse with time, impeding other relations between the two races. The People of Metal did not react kindly to the elves telling them what to do with their property and found humanity to be good for little more than hard labor and occasionally sating their hunger. Though things grew tense, the Ancients never actually came to blows with one another. Unwilling to break their pacifistic natures, the elves would not allow things to come to conflict with the People of Metal, and likewise the other Ancients knew there was nothing to gain from spilling the blood of the elves.

Perhaps it was destiny. With negotiations and tensions teetering on the brink, it may have been inevitable that something would at last send the world spiraling into war. That little push came when a meager human slave slipped one day from his overseers more than five hundred years ago. This went mostly unnoticed. Humans escaped or were lost every day in the vast cities of the People of Metal, and they never survived long. One little man- one escaped animal- was not even cause for mention much less alarm. This human was different though. His eyes were keen and his ears were always open. Little by little, this insignificant creature had turned the unintelligible gibberish of his captors into something with meaning. History from this time is nonexistent. Some argue he had to have had help. Some opine that he was a prodigy- nay, a Savior from the gods! However it happened, this man deciphered the bestial language of his slavers.

The People of Metal continually spoke of a great power source in the center of their vast city, holding it in reverence as not only a practical source of energy but as a deific monument to their might. Their tongues were not guarded. After all, the pathetic creatures under their heel couldn’t possibly have had the intellectual capacity to grasp their words. It was laughable! And even if they had, a flea was still a flea no matter what it understood. So this free man, this Savior, watched and waited and moved silently. At times he blended with slaves, at others he took refuge in the shadows, working towards a singular goal. Power, and with power, hope. It wasn’t until one of their sacred relics was stolen that the People of Metal began to take notice, began to feel unease.

No one knows quite how he did it to this day. Again, some insist that he had to have had help. A human riot, the hand of the elves, something must have pushed him along the way, guided him safely to the heart of the city. There was no other possible way that he could have gotten the relic, a key, and made it so far. Humans mostly maintain that it was sheer will, bravery and luck that got him there, holding a great pride in their Savior. But what all legends agree on is that this human, against every odd, survived to see the core of power the People of Metal held in such reverent regard. When he came to the center of the city, however it happened, the lone man turned the key that released the People of Metal’s magical might onto the world.

When the monolithic relic was opened, an ocean of violently destructive energies poured out, completely consuming humanity’s Savior. Unstoppable, it washed over the world, destroying and twisting all it came to touch. Monsters sprung forth from docile animals, life wilted and died, everything became a shadowy mockery of what it once was. Disasters ripped through the world, and the natural balance was thrown into chaos. Even in the midst of such atrocity it had the desired effect; with their power seeping away, the People of Metal were left crippled, mortal, and their diminished numbers and power were not enough to keep their slaves contained. A gigantic bulk of their slaves rose up and either escaped or died.

This upheaval caused an immediate outcry from the People of Metal. Enraged, they immediately placed blame upon the most plausible source: the elves. They had harbored sympathy for the humans all along, and there was no way their cattle could have escaped without aid from a higher being! Despite their firm denial, the elves only aggravated the growing rage of the People of Metal. The human refugees found their arms open to them, and in their kindness, the elves promised to keep the freed slaves safe from the wrath of the People of Metal.

The People of Metal were not the only ones to suffer from the volatile energies the humans had unleashed, however. As the animals and plants changed and died, the corrupting energy seeped deep into elven flesh as well. Day by day, the elves began to twist, too. The fortunate ones grew sick, their bodies weakening and beginning to fail them. Many perished, their sensitive forms unable to bear the harsh assault. The less than fortunate found themselves changing in different ways. Slowly, they began to fall into a dark insanity, turning on their brethren with murderous intent. Entire families broke apart as loved ones fell victim to madness and debilitating sickness.

When the People of Metal finally struck the first blows, it seemed like things were at their most grim. Though weakened, they maintained much of their vast power and their violent magical arts were strange to the peaceful elves. The pacifists only knew how to wield magic in defense, the arts of burning, tearing and killing entirely alien. As the sickness and corruption spread through them, it seemed that the People of Metal would wipe them out. Yet just as the elves seemed to be spiraling towards doom, something truly miraculous happened. In this time of darkest disaster, the humans discovered the greatest gift they would ever receive. The dark corruption that was destroying the elves granted humans the power to wield the energies that had so long been out of their grasp. They found themselves able to wield flame and lightning, to heave the earth and break the skies merely with their will. And as the pacifist elves- the friends of humanity that had sacrificed so much- came under attack, humans wielded the magic of the People of Metal against them. The first retaliatory strikes of what would be known as the Great War were struck.

Even as they fought, the land still broke around them. Fighting for their survival, the elves were nevertheless acutely aware that something had to be done or the war would be the least of their problems. On the advice of their elders, the elves released their own great wells of power into the world, hoping that the naturally opposing forces would cancel one another out and bring the world back to balance. The benign nature of their magic, it should have helped the situation at the very least; their power was life itself! But after their magic was released, things grew worse. The magic of the People of Metal was directly opposed to the magic of the People of Life. When they met, it worsened the maelstrom, and brought the entire planet to the very brink of extinction. It seemed that all the power in the world could do nothing to stop Senidar from splitting itself in two.

But just like that, things became still. It happened in an instant. The world heaved and groaned one moment, and the next, all was quiet. Old history speaks of a crystal god descending from the heavens, its divine life quelling the disaster and quieting the earth. Whatever happened, it allowed the people of Senidar to survive, and to continue to kill one another.

The war dragged on, and the elves slowly found that the spells they were casting were growing less potent. With their magic released in the same manner as that of the People of Metal, they had become tragically mortal. Yet as their power diminished, it seemed that human strength grew. The new mystical energies filling the world was drawn to the humans, infusing them to their very cores. The Ancients were sapped of their world altering abilities, brought to the humble level of the mortals. But the elves, who had already undergone the trials of their opposing magic, soon saw the People of Metal crumbling. The elven magic sickened them as terribly as their magic had the elves. For the elves, it was the turning point of the war in more ways than one.

In surviving the sickness that had ravaged their people, the elves had lost power, yes. What they discovered next would dwarf the grim prospects of that weakening entirely. Survival had changed their magic, and consequently, it had changed them. They soon discovered that they could use this new magic to do something that was as alluring as it was disgusting. They could fight back. Their powers now wrought destruction as easily as the humans, and though most elves look back on this as one of the most tragic days in their long history, it is the only thing that allowed them to survive. Fighting and killing for the first time alongside their human allies, they turned the tide of the war against their adversaries.

It soon became evident to the People of Metal that all hopes of winning the war had long since fallen out of their grasp. What was supposed to have been an easy conquest became a struggle for their very survival, and they were struggling for every scrap of power and every dirty trick they could. Diseases, poisons, the worst curses, nothing was taboo. It is from this that the first werewolves were born, captive elves stricken with a terrible affliction that would turn them into weapons even against their most loved ones. The curse spread quickly and effectively through bite, and each individual werewolf could wreak enough destruction for dozens of soldiers without ever knowing they were cursed. Yet even this, one of the most despicable, desperate acts in history, came far too late. The wasting sicknesses destroyed what the enemies did not. Even after the war was clearly won, there was no relenting; the humans hunted them down to the last. After bloody decades, the Great War was finally won.

The cost was severe and sobering. Even after the end of the war, its echoes claimed more and more elves, decimating them and turning them to madness. Their ancient civilizations stood empty; much of what they recovered they were too diminished to use, or its knowledge had been lost. Re-establishing their culture would take much time, as would recovering their numbers. Their ancient glory is something that they may very well never realize again. Yet through recovery, their grateful allies came through for them. Their power and numbers may be lost forever, but the humans stood side by side with them through reclamation. Until the elves were stable and after, they could always find a helping hand and a pair of strong willing arms in the race they had worked so hard to save.

Over the years, the elves taught humans culture and how to use their newfound power to the best effect. The great school of Basteel was formed not long after, a structure that has stood for over five hundred years to the present day. The human numbers have exploded and their cities and homes spread far across Senidar. The elves have regained their stability and much of their old ways, and though still greatly diminished they have refilled some of their forest cities. For now, Senidar has a time of peace and serenity.