Background - 'The End'

The Tale



He was standing in Tildruin. All around him people were running, screaming, terrified. Faelnon looked to the source of this trouble and there it stood, a gargantuan in size, from its mouth came a cloud of flame, its dark green scales glimmered in the sun. It was the Dragon of Tildruin. Faelnon looked at himself, he had no armour, or weapons. There was no army with him to battle it. This wasn’t how he remembered it at all.

The Dragon spotted the dazzled elf and leaned down so its head was resting gently on the ground. Faelnon looked at it, even more confused than before. The Dragon opened its mouth as Faelnon ducked, clamping his eyes shut and covering his face as best he can from the inevitable wave of fire that will engulf him. Instead a dark hissing sound hit his ears, ‘Death.’

After a few painfully long moments he opened his eyes, he was no longer in Tildruin. There were hundreds of trees around him and it looked to be A’lure, but it didn’t seem like A’lure, there are people slaughtering each other. And why was Shandor floating?

‘Father, we don’t have time for this.’ A tall, fair-haired female elf said stepping in front of Faelnon.

‘Time for what? I don’t understand…’ Faelnon muttered, rubbing the side of his head.

‘The end is coming, Faelnon. For me, it has already happened, but for you, it is about to.’

Faelnon jolted up in his bed. Where was he? His head was assaulted by familiar sights and sounds. He was in A’lure, he was in his house at A’lure and everything was okay. There were no armies fighting, no Dragons wrecking havoc.

He stumbled from his bed and grabbed a small bottle of water. He slumped down on his armchair, only vaguely noting that it was still dark. He thought over the images of his dream while periodically sipping from the bottle. The end? What end? Who had said that, his daughter? He didn’t have a daughter. Something disturbed him greatly about that dream, it was vivid, too real, one might say.



The beams of golden sunlight came through the window and onto the armchair, which had long since been abandoned by its occupant. Faelnon stood over a small table with a few maps scattered about. He was scribbling notes on one of the maps while making some sort of pattern on another one – one of the explored world. Something else had happened in that dream that he didn’t remember happening, only he knew that it did. He had already sent a messenger off earlier to get Shandor from Tildruin.



Two days passed since the message was sent. Shandor had not arrived and Faelnon had become increasingly eccentric, he remained in his cabin working feverously, writing on parchment or making notes on maps. Whenever he dared to sleep he was rudely awoken by another dream. They all followed the same plot – the dragons would be there, everything was in chaos where there was lots of blood shed and then his ‘daughter’ would tell him that ‘The End’ is coming.

On the third day a chocolate-brown steed rode into the town. Shandor was clothed in an emerald green tunic, brown leather boots and beige trousers. He clambered of the horse as a small stable-boy led it away. He was directed up to the cabin and was swiftly rapping at the door.

Faelnon, wearing a small pair of spectacles, swung the door open.

‘Faelnon.’ Shandor greeted simply.

‘I think we have a problem.’ Faelnon muttered weakly. He stood away from the doorway to allow Shandor access.

‘A problem? Very well, but I shan’t discuss it without a few cups of tea; I have just ridden from Tildruin to here, and I am parched.’ Shandor stated, entering the cabin and making for a Faelnon’s tea set.

‘I swear, Shandor, you get more and more eccentric each time we meet.’ Faelnon smiled.

‘This from the elf who has been locked up in his cabin for the last few days? Still, tea first.’ Shandor insisted.

For the next few hours they drank and discussed past adventures, and new ones. The sun had began to set as Shandor made for the door.

‘You can’t be leaving, we haven’t even discussed what I brought you here for.’

‘All the better, I would say, but I was going to suggest a walk while we discuss that; it is the Feast of the First Harvest and a little bit of a party might cheer us up.’

Faelnon shrugged and followed. The two walked in silence for a while, just crossing the platforms between the gigantic and majestic trees.

At last, while looking about, Faelnon broke the silence, ‘Our time on this world has ended. I see it in nature, Aslaï Eithne has left us; the trees seem less green, less wonderful. The people look pale, lifeless, just stumbling from place to place.’

‘It was foretold in every prophecy and legend that we uncovered, but I thought it meant millennia away.’ Shandor admitted.

‘There is no place we can hide, not the homeland to the west, not underneath the world like dwarves.’ Faelnon paused for a moment, ‘Have you seen the dreams, also?’

‘Indeed, and I do not believe we are the only two.’

‘Then you know which city will be the first to fall?’ Faelnon asked grimly.

Shandor nodded slowly, ‘The city of Borwin shall crumble and the blood of the dwarves will be shed on the underbelly of the world.’

‘I fear we cannot do anything against this destruction, Borwin will fall.’ He paused again before adding, ‘A great burning pentagram to be seen by the gods will spell our doom.’

‘The Dragon of Tildruin was meant to be our doom, and we defeated it.’

‘You know very well that it was never meant as such. It was just the first part of death’s plan.’

Shandor noticed the two had stopped walking, ‘Faelnon, I see that Hope has fled your heart, but it remains strong in mine. I will stop the destruction of Borwin, and the other four cities. We have endured hardships we ‘mortals’ were never meant to endure and yet are still alive. I believe that it is possible to make the difference.’

There was an exceedingly long moment of silence. Shandor finally stated, ‘I think we should find the party and join the merriment.’

The two made their way in a morbid silence to the feast. A band was playing all manner of instruments as a soloist sung a treasured song. Several tables were ready, lined with food. Shandor mixed into the crowds and made his way towards the music. Faelnon headed in the opposite direction and stood on the edge of the feast.

Shandor began smiling and humming along with the song. One verse ended and there was a brief pause before a new verse commenced, but something seemed wrong with the singer, his hair was much darker, and the lyrics had been changed, he sang:



I stand atop the mountain, like the reigning king,

Though I am nothing but a fool.

The winged devil flies above in an enclosing ring,

It is no devil, to death it is a tool.

I know now, no matter what I try,

I am doomed to die.



The singer swayed for a moment before collapsing to the ground. Faelnon made his way to the singer. After a few moments he announced, ‘He seems okay, he just seems to have fainted.’

‘Okay, now I don’t like this feast.’ Shandor stated.



The feast was called to an abrupt halt and the crowd was dispersed. Faelnon went to converse with the council of Wise Elves. Shandor returned to his cabin, which has lain dormant for so long. He lay down on the bed and recited the song verse over and over, before he knew it, he was asleep.

‘Uncle Shandor?’ A voice called.

Shandor looked towards the voice, it belonged to the same elf that had spoken to Faelnon and claimed to be his daughter. ‘Yes?’ Shandor stated simply.

‘Of course, I suppose you are really my uncle by blood, but a lot of mortals call a parent’s close friends ‘Uncles’ or ‘Aunts’, that’s odd, isn’t it?’ She said, looking away.

‘Er, well, yes, I suppose it is. Where am I?’ Shandor asked, looking about the grim wasteland.

‘Oh, this, is Tildruin. Or rather, it will be.’ She replied.

Shandor looked about, completely confused. ‘Will be?’ He managed to say.

‘Yes, as in, isn’t yet. Oh, and if you are curious-‘ She suddenly changed shape into Faelnon, ‘If it is freed-‘ It changes to Ariea, ‘We will die. It cannot be defeated, no mortal can harm it, and no mortal will stop it in this world.’

Shandor stared at the shape of his wife; she walked off towards what remained of a building.



‘Shandor? Shandor, wake up!’ Faelnon hollered. Shandor blinked awake. ‘Something happened,’ Faelnon stated.

‘Okay, it is very early in the morning-‘

‘It is late afternoon.’

‘In either case, I’m too tired to know what the ‘something’ is, so you are going to have to be more specific.’

‘There’s been a change in Tildruin. The council that runs the city have changed leader, now they are under the command of one Robert West, and for the first time, seem to be agreeing with everything; and he has called for the human people to listen to his word, some are heading to Tildruin.’

‘This is important why?’ Shandor moaned.

‘Hush, I’m not finished.’ Faelnon scolded, ‘the Wise Elves have assumed command of A’lure and the elves in Ashen Kvyr.’

‘Again, the importance is?’

Faelnon sighed, ‘Never mind, I’m going to meet with them now.’ With that Faelnon crossed the room and left through the doorway, he called back, ‘You may wish to lock your door next time.’

Faelnon hurried to the council building and found thirteen (thirteen? Faelnon knew of only twelve members) elves in the Wise Elf uniform. They were sat around a circular table. ‘Ah, Faelnon.’ The apparent leader (even though Faelnon didn’t recognise him), ‘Please, take a seat.’

Faelnon complied and resisted the temptation to ask something ridiculous like ‘Where shall I take it to?’ Instead, he chooses to ask, ‘Have we met? I don’t recall your face…’

The Wise Elf smiled, ‘We haven’t met, no, I’m Aoen, I arrived here from Viirnial.’

Faelnon nodded in the oh-that’s-nice way.

A few moments of silence passed before Aoen spoke up, ‘Is there anything we can do for you?’

Faelnon said, ‘Yes, actually. I was curious as to the decision of this council to take control of A’lure and Kvyr.’

‘Well, after I arrived, we agreed that it was better that the elven people should have one body who they can trust, and is near to.’

Faelnon nodded, even though he felt the question had just been batted away. ‘And what about this Robert West assuming command of Tildruin, two major powers now being led by a few, rather odd coincidence, no?’

Aoen shrugged, ‘The world is full of odd coincidences. Like that singer yesterday-‘

‘Speaking of, I wished to discuss that-‘

‘I’m sorry, Faelnon, but I’m afraid that we are heading to meditation now. Another time, and I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have.’ Aoen finished. The others looked slightly confused and made no motion to move.

Faelnon looked at Aoen briefly, he had just been fobbed of like some random crazed peasant. Faelnon stood up and left swiftly, silently mouthing elven curses. He approached Shandor, who said something before Faelnon could speak, ‘I’ve just received a letter from Ariea, she has just had a… disturbing vision.’

‘Vision?’ Faelnon inquired.

‘Well, she saw something while she as looking after the store, it says here that she saw mountains, a fortress and a gnome trapped in an emerald gem.’

‘Interesting.’

‘Those Gnomes just keep popping up, don’t they?’

‘The Dragon?’ Faelnon said in the same way he and Shandor normally speak which would confuse most people.

‘Indeed, the chamber, and its inscriptions.’

‘Let’s go.’



Two days later Shandor, Faelnon, Ariea and Thor were in the chambers beneath Tildruin – where the dragon came from, and accessed from Shandor’s store. ‘Bloody Gnomes.’ Thor stated, taking a deep swig from a bottle of ale.

‘That’s hardly fair.’ Faelnon stated.

‘’Course it is,’ Shandor countered, ‘They had no right to build this thing and make the Dragon.’ Thor nodded at Shandor and took another swig.

‘What about that one that went a little… um, crazy?’ Ariea suggested.

The others glanced at her. ‘You know, that section-‘ She waved at a shadow covered wall, ‘- of the wall is full of mad ramblings, talking about how they created the dragon and they weren’t ready for it?’

‘Nonsense.’

‘He also said,’ Ariea continued, ‘he would find away to sleep until the ‘Dawn of Death is nigh’.’

Shandor took a moment to think and finally stated, ‘Okay then, let’s go find this Gnome.’

Now everyone was starting at Shandor as if he had just turned into a dragon.

‘I’m serious, if Ariea thinks he some how survived, we’ll find him.’



It took three weeks and several conversations with Esal via a small orb, which he claims is a simplified version of a Nanjarii communication orb he had once, but they had finally arrived at a small marble fortress. It was located far north of Borwin, in the centre of the Barrier Mountains, with snow-capped peaks surrounding it. Shandor approached the door, pulling his cloak even tighter around him. He pounded on the door with gloved hands. The group stood there for a moment, the early morning sun had only reached the tip of the mountains so far.

‘Are you sure this is the place?’ Shandor asked.

‘Pretty sure, I mean, it is the only fortress around here, right?’ Ariea said.

Faelnon shook his head.

Thor shook his head, but this was because of consuming too much ale. The announcement of the End seemed to really depress him.

Shandor sighed, pounded on the door once more before leaning against it.

‘That ain’t gonnae work!’ Thor bellowed, he dizzily swung his axe and stumbled into the door, it remains unclear if he had actually intended to hit the door, or if he just stumbled.

Whatever Thor intended doing, it did open the door, a large beam, one of five creating the door, gave a groan and fell inwards. Shandor shrugged and entered the dark building.

The group explored the initial chamber in absolute silence. Upon entering the second room they realised they needed to breathe, so did so; the air was stale and very slightly warm. ‘Do you hear that?’ Faelnon asked.

‘The sound of death?’ Shandor replied, noting the sheer silence, other than the resonating comments from the two elves.

‘No, the humming.’ Faelnon stated.

‘The humming?’ Ariea asked, nearing where Faelnon was, suddenly, she could hear it too, the faintest of hums. ‘Is it coming from… below?’

‘Yes, I believe so, how do we get down there?’

‘Thor, care to stumble into the floor?’ Shandor smiled.

‘No need for such drastic actions.’ Faelnon stated, heaving open a small, but surprisingly heavy, door.

Shandor looked at the doorway and asked needlessly, ‘Stairs down?’

‘No, someone painted black on a wall, put a door in front of it, and hoped we would stupidly run into the wall… Of course it is stairs down!’

‘You are going to look quite ridiculous if that paint-theory comes true.’ Shandor grinned, lighting a lamp with brief incantation.

Faelnon rolled his eyes and began down the stairs, this elicited a small ‘aw’ from Shandor. The end of the stairs opened to a larger room, which was dimly lit. Leaning against the far side is a huge emerald gem, it was supported on both sides by short pillars.

Shandor whistled in awe, ‘If we sold that, we could go out happy.’

Faelnon whistled in awe, surprised that Thor hadn’t said that first.

Thor whistled in general.

Ariea would never whistle, it isn’t polite.

Shandor and Faelnon approached the gem, it seemed perfectly plain from where they were. ‘I don’t see any Gnome.’ Shandor stated.

At that moment the Gnome decided to appear, or rather, faded into the gem. He was floating in the gem, arms apart, head bowed, eyes clamped shut.

‘Do you think that will hurt the value?’ Shandor asked, still approaching.

‘Do you think he can help us at all?’ Ariea asked, ‘I mean, rather an odd end to pursue.’

‘Didn’t you insist we come?’

‘Well, yes, but I was thinking, he might know nothing.’

Shandor shrugged and neared the gem. Faelnon drew a short dagger and gently pushed Shandor away, ‘Let’s touch it with something that isn’t us.’

The others took a step away as Faelnon peered at the Gnome, he moved the dagger towards the surface. Just as it was about to collide, the Gnome’s head rocketed up, its eyes flared in a mixture of surprise and horror.

That was the only thing they could remember as a piercing screech, like a thousand people screaming, resonated around the room. Ariea had joined in the screaming, gripping her ears in pain. Shandor didn’t realise it, but he was in a similar state to Ariea. Faelnon bellowed in pain, but couldn’t be heard. Thor, before falling unconscious, seemed quite irate that the sound had made the glass of his ale bottle shatter.

The gem began to shatter as Shandor squirmed on the ground trying to escape the noise. The last thing he remembered was seeing Faelnon try to clamber to his feet, dagger waving madly.

When Shandor woke up, everything was tinted green, and he had at least double-vision. It was then he realised a chunk of the gem had landed in front of his eyes and he was looking through it. He dizzily sat up, he felt a warm trickle of liquid going from his ears downwards. What had happened?

The gem lay in pieces. Thor was propped up against a wall, Ariea was still out cold on the ground and Faelnon lay twitching. The Gnome lay between Shandor and Faelnon, face to the ground. Shandor carefully crawled over there, knocking fragments of gems out of the way. He turned the Gnome over and saw something that would normally horrify him; the Gnome’s throat was slit and his blood had poured over his face and the nearby ground. He crawled away from that sight as quickly as possible, leaving the Gnome staring sickeningly at the ceiling.



An hour later and they were outside, choosing to face the cold than the fortress. ‘Whatever,’ Shandor stated at last, ‘that Gnome had to say, someone didn’t want it to be said.’

‘That much is clear.’ Said Faelnon weakly.

‘Who, er, who… ‘you-know’ed him?’ Ariea blurted out, trying to avoid thinking of the Gnome.

‘I have not the faintest notion, maybe the gem had a sharp fragment that he fell on.’ Faelnon stated.

‘Now…plan?’ Thor said.

‘That I am not sure on.’ Faelnon said. ‘I think we should head back to Esal to consult with him in person.’

‘Ye can do that, ah am goin’ te Borwin. Thinn ‘n’ me ‘ave got our own minin’ company, an’ that’ll do me ‘til the End.’

‘I am afraid,’ said what was meant to be a booming voice, but since it emanated from a small orb in Faelnon’s backpack, it didn’t really have much effect, ‘that your task is not quite done.’

‘Shock, horror.’ Shandor stated sarcastically.

‘Shush Shandor. You need to reunite the group and quickly.’

‘Why?’ Faelnon stated, finally removing the orb from the backpack, it showed the visage of Esal standing proudly and speaking grimly.

‘It has already begun. Nearly every major power has mysteriously gained a new leader, and their orders are… bizarre at best.’

‘Before we get in to politics, I need to tell you, the Gnome is dead, there was a terrible screeching, and then he was dead.’

‘I feared as much. A few days ago the former president of the Tildruin council heard a screech, it has been reported, he climbed to the highest tower in Tildruin and hurled himself off.’ Esal reported, ‘I am not sure how it does it, but this screech seems to control people’s minds, I would wager anyway. It does seem to be the logical conclusion.’

‘What now?’ Shandor asked.

‘Simple; go to Borwin and do what you can. I will try and keep you up to date with any events. Send messages out to your band of insane, suicidal friends and tell them to meet you wherever is convenient. Please hurry.’ With that, the orb faded back to a light blue state.

‘Oh goodie, another quest.’ Shandor sighed.

Faelnon resisted the urge to mutter something that shouldn’t be muttered in polite circumstances.