
                       History of Vinyamar
                            Chapter 6
                           The New War


681: Birth of Azog, GodKing of the Muzgash
   In 681, when the Dark Dwarves, Adamantine-poisoned as they
were, had summoned Kruach, the great LavaWorm who had saved their
ancestors so many centuries previously, they expected to gain a
friend in their fight. They had heard rumors that Kruach bore a
deep hatred for Ungol, the Demon-God of the Dark Elves, and they
had hoped to work this hatred to their advantage. When the
LavaWorm had arrived before them, however, it had already heard
from Erebal and his followers the stories about how the Dwarves
of Adamantium, who now dwelled in Kruachimar, had been corrupted
by the dark metal and how Magor had enslaved his own kin, his
thirst for power an unquenchable madness. Though the Dark Dwarves
were every bit as powerful as their kin, they did not have the
same sense of honor, nor the same courage which the Lavaworm had
witnessed in Naro. For these reasons, Kruach opened a planar
gate, calling forth all the spirits of stone to shake Kruachimar
down to its foundations, and having effected that task, he left,
his energies spent on the ordeal.
   Unfortunately, the spirits of stone were not all that
travelled through that gate. Sometimes, when cross-dimensional
conduits are formed, particularly ones of such magnitude, they
arouse the attention and curiosity of those who pass near them.
One such spirit was that of Azog, a minion of Kos, who was
presently serving as his spy. Passing by the World of Vinyamar on
his usual rounds, Azog noticed the extra-planar disturbance, came
too close to it, and was sucked within. Once through, it was too
late for him to escape. He was trapped on Vinyamar, unable to
return to the astral space in between planes until someone should
come along and open another conduit.
   He knew that it could be decades before Kos would notice him
missing, and so rather than wait around, he decided to have a
little fun, breaking the rules, as it were, though not so great
an infraction, since it wasn't his own power which stranded him
on Vinyamar, but rather Kruach, the Lavaworm, who never obeyed
the rules anyway. Azog decided to enter the body of a Muzgash
child, just as it was in the process of being born. Hence, on the
same day of the Great Quake of 681, Azog, future DemonLord of the
Muzgash, came into physical being on Vinyamar.

740: The Death of Elrohir
   During the early years of the 8th century, the Muzgash
succeeded in finally conquering the Goblins, with whom they had
been warring for the last three hundred years. The event was a
startling one for the Elves who lived just on the other side of
the mountains, because it meant a return to the Great War, a time
of terror and bloodshed permanently imbedded in the Elfin memory.
   Worse, however, was the fact that with the Dwarves gone from
Kruachimar, the Elves had no allies with whom to fight, no new
swords or armor to replace the rusty relics from some three
centuries past. In short, all the Elves had to protect them was
their magic and their superior skill at arms, and as they were to
learn to their utter dismay, the Muzgash now had wizards too, and
as for fighting, there were those among them who were quite
improved at that as well.
   The greatest of these Muzgash was their acid-breathing King,
Azog the Indomitable, who's skill at arms was unsurpassed and
who's blade was forged from the purest Adamantine. Never had the
Elves seen a champion such as him, and when, in 740, he and
Elrohir finally met upon the battlefield, both their armies
laying in carnage about them, Azog proceeded to chop the Elven
King to pieces, swallowing whole chunks of severed flesh even
before Elrohir was dead, and then sucking the marrow from his
bones and burning the rest, casting the ashes of the once great
King to the four winds, all the while laughing hideously at his
own depravity.

743: Plea for Humanity
   Following the news of his father's death, Elendur assumed the
throne of Elvenhome at the ripe old age of 389 years (about
twenty-seven by human standards). Though he had often dreamt of
the day when he would rule the Elves and, like his father had
once in an age long past, march into battle, vanquishing his
enemies, this news of his father's death, and, in particular, the
stories he heard about the way Elrohir died, put him into a state
of utter panic.
   The Muzgash King was said to be unkillable, its life not
portioned out by the beating of its heart, but rather a matter of
sheer willpower. Azog's armor had been pieced innumerable times.
In some battles, even an arm or a leg had been severed, and yet
he fought on, regenerating like a Torog, only faster.
   Elendur knew that he was no match for this thing, and that
with the Elven armies all but decimated, Elfinhome was ripe for
destruction. It would only be a matter of time before the Muzgash
returned, their numbers renewed. They had ten years, or maybe
twenty at the most, before Azog would appear with his hordes,
unaged and more powerful than ever before. He would break through
the city's final defenses, raping all the women he could lay his
dirty hands on, and, perhaps even worse, raping all the men too.
And no matter where the Elves would run, he would hunt them,
until Elendur himself should be captured, tortured to death, and
then the marrow sucked from his bones, as had been his father's
fate.
   Elendur knew not what to do, other than to go into the woods
and pray. The Elves were not on friendly terms with any Gods.
They had no temples. Elrohir, his father, had specifically
forbade the worship of any such beings, likening the worship of
deities to the sorcery of Dagnir, yet another variable he
couldn't control, but which could result in the most dire of
consequences. Yet the world was changing, and his father was
dead. Such laws no longer mattered. Hence, in the woods, there
were only the tall trees and the shaded grass to hear Elendur's
plea, however, the tears of an Elven King so young and alive are
not taken lightly, even by trees and grass who care for very
little save some water and sunlight, and so, from their leaves,
through their roots, and into the thread of life which connects
all of the forests on all of the worlds upon which life grows and
is nurtured, Elendur's plea was carried.
   Later, that evening, whilst on his way back to the city, the
heavens spilt forth a rain of unsurpassed strength, forcing him
to climb a tree just to save himself from drowning, and as
evening turned into night, the young king could hear a sweet song
of laughter the likes of which he had never heard before. After
he had explained his case to the mysterious laughter deep within
the woods, shedding tears as he admitted his own terror, the only
response was silence. The very next morning, however, while he
clung to the tree, too cold and frightened to sleep, he could see
by the first rays of dawn spilling forth from the overcast sky
that the flood waters had mixed together with the forest floor,
forming a strange grey mud, which, as he watched, and the clouds
parted ever so slowly, coalesced into shapes, and stood upright,
and finally, with great hesitation, turned into men and women,
thousands of them, all naked and shivering, bewildered but alive.
   Elendur's plea had been answered, and the answer was Humanity.

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