The Lorekeepers of Voor reckoned all time in two sections by the end: The Years of Light, and the Age of Darkness. The years of the Age of Darkness are unknown in specific, as it took undetermined stretches of time for a new system of timekeeping to be derived from the subtle motions of the stars rather than the simple days and seasons of the sun.

The first age of the Years of Light are known as the Age of Myth, a period that ends with the foundation of the Lorekeepers and the invention of writing in Year of Light 6982. The exact years preceding written records were derived from oral histories and genealogies by the first Lorekeepers.

The next five thousand or so Years of Light are known as the Age of Forests – elves were the dominant sapient species, and a great elven empire spread across the world, promoting the growth of deep woods that covered much of the land. The records of the Age of Forests’ ending did not survive into the Waning – however, an account by the heretical Lorekeeper Tala posited that the Lorekeepers themselves were responsible, uplifting humans from barbarism and teaching them magic, the result of which was a devastating war that burned many of the magically-grown forests and sent elven political power into a downward spiral.

Certainly, the end of the Age of Forests in Year of Light 12104 does coincide with the rise of humanity, and there is plenty of evidence for a magical war that shattered the elven empire and greatly reduced the tree cover over the world, but the standard assumption of the Lorekeepers was that it was more likely an elven civil war than a human uprising.

The next three thousand years give or take, were deemed the Age of Heroes. No single great power held sway over the world, and the various races of the world – humans, elves, and the like – mingled. The records that survived this age to the Age of Darkness were much better than the records of the Age of Forests.

As the Age of Heroes continued, humans began to gain an upper hand. The elves were pushed into a few remaining forest retreats, while lands were tamed and settled. The death of the last Great Dragon in 15925 (though dragonkind itself persisted until the Age of Darkness) is seen as symbolic end of the age, as within a few years the human who slew the creature became the first Emperor of Vox The elves were pushed into a few remaining forest retreats, while lands were tamed and settled.

The Age of Empire came next, and represents a time period where the Imperium of Vox was the world’s hegemonic power. The Imperium ruled over the vast majority of the world’s land mass, and even those places it did not directly control, such as the northern tribes and elves of the great forest, at times paid tribute to the Imperium.

The Waning Age began in the Year of Light 16727, before the Imperium properly fell. The sun began to notably fade. The chaotic years of the Waning Age are recorded in more detail below. In brief, the Imperium crumbled into four nations, which were driven increasingly to isolation and barbarism as the world’s death throes continued.

The Age of Darkness began after the Last Dawn in 17413, and persisted for approximately 200 years before the end of the world. Some of its major events (mostly related to the Lorekeepers themselves) are recounted below.

16727 - The Waning of the Sun is first noticed. The Imperium of Vox is the world's great power, controlling most of the southern Known Lands, with "Barbarian" tribes ruling the northern expanses between the empire and the hidden University of the Lorekeepers.

16751 - The Lorekeepers of Voor leave their posts in the Imperial court and the lesser courts of the land due to political turbulence. After this date, they observe the world exclusively via magic and only depart the University of the Lorekeepers to find spouses -- even when peace and stability reign for a time, they maintain their isolation, fading into myth as far as the rest of the world is concerned. The number of full Lorekeepers stands at twenty-one, but is subject to fluctuation.

16754 - The first civil war in the Imperium is crushed.

16783 - The second Vox Civil War begins.

16790 - Confident in their triumph, the rebel faction fractures, its leaders turning on each other over spoils yet to be won. This buys the Imperial faction time to stabilize.

16802 - The senile emperor of the Vox directs most of his troops northward. Though successful at slaughtering the largely peaceful nomadic peoples, the distraction creates an opening for the squabbling rebels to begin tearing apart the Imperium in earnest.

16811 - After a long and bloody struggle, Vox falls. The remnants of the empire shatter into four new kingdoms: Efaruna, Tolkas, Dorias, and Vishtal. The four kingdoms, weary of their long war with the Imperium, sign a peace treaty with each other.

16825 - Construction of the Grand Fortress begins. Vishtal provides most of the manpower, but the site chosen is on Efaruna soil, giving that nation claim to the Fortress as well.

16838 - A renegade Lorekeeper of Voor who abandoned the order to seek temporal power weds the Crown Prince of Tolkas. Her dream of using the knowledge of the Lorekeepers to bring peace and prosperity to the dying world is shattered when the order burns the knowledge of how to find their University from her mind, along with many other secrets. Even so, Tolkas profits greatly from her remaining wisdom.

16912 - The main structure of the Grand Fortress is completed. Approximately ten million souls retreat inside, representing members of all four nations, though Efaruna and Vishtal are the best represented by far.

16957 - The government of Efaruna takes up residence in the Grand Fortress.

16958 - To retain a measure of control of the Grand Fortress, the Vishtal government makes its new home there as well.

16969 - Disgusted by the growing indifference of their governments and the isolation of the same inside the Grand Fortress, a visionary leads a group of Efaruna and Vishtal citizens to found a new though small nation in the Emerald Peaks. They dedicate themselves to green magic, and finding a way to restore their world.

~17000 - Volcanic upheaval decimates the nation of Tolkas and ruins most of its major cities. The survivors flee north, into lands never held by the Vox Imperium, which they name the Plains of Hope. Finding good land and bedrock marbled with seams of useful coal, New Tolkas quickly burgeons.

17018 - The caverns beneath the Grand Fortress are finally dug out completely and magically sown. There is now enough "arable" land inside the fortress that no resident ever needs leave its walls or receive aid from the outside.

17050 - The sun now rises red, and is dim enough to gaze at directly without harm, though only just.

~17100 - Displaced into ever harsher lands by the growth of New Tolkas, many peoples of the north turn to dark powers for aid. They are the first to be transformed into the Nightstalkers.

17133 - Crop failures throughout the land, even within the Grand Fortress, spread famine. A war for food seems probable, but sages from the Emerald Peaks manage to avert it by sharing new techniques to better grow plants with magic in the waning light.

17155 - The last large trees die, though where the great forests once stood, a self-sustaining fungal mire that will become known as the Sea of Rot spreads. Most remaining elves have settled in Efaruna and New Tolkas.

17172 - The Lorekeepers of Voor begin kidnapping infants to maintain their numbers rather than remaining in the world long enough to woo husbands or brides. The number of full Lorekeepers stands at thirteen, and will never rise again.

17188 - Volcanic action destroys the largest iron mine in Dorias. Several smaller mines run dry in the following years.

17206 - Dorias, having exhausted most of its own natural resources, turns its eyes towards the seeming paradise that is New Tolkas.

17210 - The war between Dorias and New Tolkas ends as the spider's web of coal seams beneath New Tolkas are ignited on a massive scale by the heavy use of fire magic. The armies of Dorias return home depleted and empty-handed while the survivors of New Tolkas abandon their cities and flee into the wilds. Trampled by war and poisoned by the burning coal, the area becomes known as the Plains of Despair.

17237 - Condemned prisoners, exiled to the Sea of Rot, kidnap the Princess of Efaruna. Though she escapes from the "Worm Men" in short order, her experiences are such that she never returns to the Grand Fortress.

17254 - Dorias attempts to lay siege to the Grand Fortress. It fails miserably, but the isolationist direction the Grand Fortress takes thereafter leaves Efaruna and Vishtal in chaos.

~17300 - The sun has dimmed such that what passes for day now is equivalent to late twilight before the Waning. Most plants not grown for agriculture, often with the aid of magic, wither and die, though creepers and grasses remain. The ranks of the Nightstalkers have swelled to a level where the creatures are a significant threat to settlements. Demons (and in their wake, devils) are a constant presence.

17316 - Dorias makes war on the remnants of Efaruna and Vishtal, scattering their people. However, the strain of the campaign breaks the back of Dorias. Its major cities fall into chaos and ruin at the hands of demons, and a massive horde of Nightstalkers sweeps across the land. No organized nation-states remain, and the human populace consists of the conclave in the Emerald Peaks, the Grand Fortress, and many isolated villages that defend themselves from the predations of the Nightstalkers.

17360 - Nightstalkers are seen migrating north. The Grand Fortress erects a massive Circle of Protection that hedges the creatures out, but they do not seem bothered by it. For reasons unknown, the hordes gather in the land that becomes known as Stalker's Fell, though many remain in other climes. How there could be so many of the creatures is considered a mystery.

17391 - Volcanic eruption obliterates the society in the Emerald Peaks, which become known as the Crumbling Mountains.

17413 - The Last Dawn. The sun sets forever.

????? - A massive die-off of sapients occurs in the chaos surrounding the utter darkness. Villages starve even further and many fall to Nightstalkers and other sorts of Dark Creatures. In the Grand Fortress, despair chokes off birth rates and drives suicide to epidemic proportions, the combined result slashing the population of the Fortress. Most views of the outside world are walled off. Even the Lorekeepers of Voor suffer, as their brethren are driven to madness or other grim ends without training apprentices.

Year of Darkness 100? - The world has stabilized in the dark. Most villages that will fall have done so, though their numbers continue to dwindle. The population of the Grand Fortress stands between three and five million, where it will remain. There are six Lorekeepers of Voor -- three masters and three apprentices.

Year of Darkness 109? - One of the Apprentice Lorekeepers, the last female Lorekeeper, strays beyond the University's wards and is taken by the Nightstalkers (though not killed, oddly). A second Apprentice Lorekeeper leaves to attempt a rescue. Neither returns to the University, though their fate is unknown. The girl's master commits suicide while the boy's claims another apprentice.

Year of Darkness 120? - One of the two Master Lorekeepers, the one forced to take a new apprentice earlier, dies. His compatriot refuses to confirm the twelve-year-old apprentice as a full Lorekeeper and also refuses to train him any more. The boy attempts to attack the old man, but is killed. Only one Lorekeeper master and one apprentice now remain.

Year of Darkness 133? - On his deathbed, the last Master Lorekeepr confirms his apprentice, who now seeks an apprentice of his own.

Year of Darkness 181? - The post of Master Lorekeeper passes for the last proper time.

Year of Darkness 184? - Morgan is born, and stolen by the last Master Lorekeeper.

Year of Darkness 186? - Larasa is born.

Year of Darkness 200? - The Stars are extinguished. The World ends.

“The Imperium of Vox, named for the Wyrm its founder slew, defined an entire age of this world. Yet, for all its might, Vox collapsed within a hundred years of the Waning’s start. It is a testament to the nations that rose from the ashes of Vox that they lasted as long as they did.” – Morgan, Last Lorekeeper of Voor

The Imperium of Vox was founded upon the bones of the last Great Dragon to live in the Age of Heroes, its first emperor the human that defeated the wyrm. The Imperium grew quickly, and became the world’s one great power.

In the early days, the Imperium was very warlike, conquering villages and tribes whether they resisted or no. The expansion slowed only when imperial forces stretched themselves thin attempting to make war on the elves at the same time the surge of settlers from the imperial heartland willing to drive northward dried up. After peace was made with the elves, Imperial borders were fixed by the treaty and remained until the waning.

The Imperium grew prosperous in this time, both science and magic progressing to high levels. Skyships and Ornithopters filled the air, while lightning-driven rail lines criss-crossed the open plains. Shining cities with ivory towers sprang up, and it seemed that the Imperium would endure for eons to come, in glory undimmed since the Age of Myths.

As with all good things, it was not to last.

“It is impossible! The gods would not permit my reign to end like this…” – Emperor Ekarath

The Waning brought chaos and instability to the Imperium. People formerly content went mad, and the weak points in imperial power were painfully exposed. One major uprising was brutally suppressed, and in its wake the Imperium took a turn for totalitarianism rather than attempting to settle the grievances of its people. This only ensured that a second civil war, with more support and better organization, would begin within a generation.

The second Vox Civil War was a long and bloody affair, seeing constantly shifting borders, massive impressments, and a few periods where the fighting died down to let the next crop of soldiers grow into their arms. Though the rebel faction was dominant at first, any hope of a swift victory was destroyed when it split into factions of its own. The technical Imperium clung to life by a thread as new movements appeared and disappeared among the rebels.

Finally, the last Emperor of Vox, Ekarath, ordered his armies north in his senility (or perhaps hoping to create an Imperial safe haven on lands formerly forbidden to them). His forces stretched thin, the rebel factions managed to coordinate for long enough to place the final nail in the coffin of the Imperium by sacking Wyrmsbane Castle and slaughtering the imperial family. For a short time, war seemed certain between the victorious factions, but they instead agreed on a division of imperial lands that would, more or less, last for most of the Waning.

“Of all the nations of the Waning, Efaruna shone the brightest the longest. Its lands were green and good, and its people wise and inventive. If not for the withdrawal of its royal court into the Grand Fortress, it may well have survived the Last Dawn.” – Morgan, Last Lorekeeper of Voor

Efaruna inherited from the Imperium of Vox good land in the north-east of the empire, adjacent to the Great Forest of the elves. Though lacking the mineral wealth of Dorias or the fertile fields of Tolkas, the infrastructure in Efaruna was far more intact than across the rest of the former imperium. Efaruna’s cities were large, and its citizens practiced artifice not known to the other Waning Nations.

Though their neighbor, Efaruna tended to have icy relations with the elves, not sharing their philosophies about life and nature. Though there were many border skirmishes throughout the history of the nation, no full scale war ever materialized.

When Vishtal’s great minds came up with the idea of the Grand Fortress, there was no acceptable site on Vishtal soil, and they turned to Efaruna for aid. In the northern end of Efaruna, near the elven border and the foothills of the Emerald Peaks that marked the extent of ‘civilized’ lands, there was an open plain with the right layers of stone beneath to support the construction.

In exchange for allowing the Fortress to be built, Efaruna had the right to sequester as many of its citizens within as Vishtal did. Efaruna also saw the Fortress as useful as a symbol of their own might: being on their soil, they could presumably use it as a defensive position if the need arose.

“Our kingdom is sick, and my family does nothing to heal it. In these dark times, nobility ought to be a duty to those that are out here in the world, suffering. Instead, they see it as an entitlement to hide within their Grand Fortress and blind themselves to the problems beyond its walls. I will not go back to them, will not rest when I can do some good.” – Rasilla, Exiled Princess of Efaruna

Efaruna fell, technically, to the last campaign of Dorias to seize its lands for their own. However, the nation was doomed long before that. Early in its history, the royal court chose the Grand Fortress to serve as their palace. It worked for a time, but gradually the nobility became ever more withdrawn.

Negligence from its rulership ate away at Efaruna slowly. It did not break all at once, but simply frayed at the edges, losing ground to the strain of disaster and the fading light until there was nothing left. Not until the last hundred and fifty years of light, though did the chaos truly become absolute.

“Vishtal was sometimes called the parasite state. After the construction of the Grand Fortress sealed away the best and brightest of its population, it survived only through a complex web of trade and treaty. By the end, it was little more than a vassal state of Efaruna” – Morgan, Last Lorekeeper of Voor

When it came to land, Vishtal, in the south east of former Vox territory, drew the short straw. Though one could no doubt make a living on that soil, it was far from good, lacked mineral wealth, and had been the site of some of the worst fighting.

In exchange for accepting the land that no one wanted, the founders of Vishtal took with them most of the best mages and academics of the Imperium, hoping that they could capitalize on what little they had.

The Vishtal brain trust quickly devised the Grand Fortress, a way their population and culture might be preserved against whatever happened in the future. It was an ambitious project – none of its architects would live to see its completion, and it required a locale with specific magical and physical traits in order to see its full potential. Such a site did not exist in the lands ruled by Vishtal.

As such, Vishtal entered a treaty with Efaruna regarding the Grand Fortress. In exchange for access for the land to build it on, Efaruna would be included as a full partner in the project. Vishtal mages, workers, architects, and engineers migrated north. Vishtal mages, workers, architects, and engineers migrated north. When it was finished, Vishtal’s best and brightest withdrew within.

This proved to be Vishtal’s undoing as a legitimate power. With all their resources sunk into a project on Efaruna’s land, Vishtal itself fell even further. As some canny politicians remained, Vishtal negotiated treaties that traded much of its sovereignty in exchange for protection. The final blow came when Vishtal’s court moved to the Grand Fortress, far away from the people it ruled.

At least in name, though, Vishtal survived as long as Efaruna. Its people, driven by survival or, if that was assured, greed, were expert merchants and traders.

“The history of Tolkas is one of glory and ruin. It rose higher than any other nation, but that only meant it had farther to fall in the end, crumbling first and more totally than any other nation.” – Morgan, Last Lorekeeper of Voor

Tolkas, in the northwest, was the breadbasket of the four Waning Nations. Its people tended to live in smaller towns than the other nations, closer to the earth so to speak. Its few great cities were planned carefully and incorporated parks and loft-gardens that would have made a Selesnya Ravnican feel at home.

The peaceful existence of Tolkas was shattered by a force no one could have predicted nor stopped: As the world inched ever closer to its ultimate demise, volcanic activity increased dramatically, and this hit Tolkas harder than anywhere else: Its manicured cities were choked by ash and burned by lava flows, its green fields poisoned with sulfur.

The royalty of Tolkas led their people north, into the lands that had been barred by treaty to the Vox. Their migration displaced or absorbed the local tribes, but in the end what they found astounded them: the northern lands were, perhaps, fairer than Tolkas had been before the eruptions began, and had mineral wealth (especially coal) as well. The nation formally became New Tolkas, founded on the Plains of Hope.

“It seemed too good to be true… beyond the reach of civilization, a land that was still green and good, untainted by war or volcanic smoke. I was but a child when we made the long trek north, into this heaven we have made our home. I pray the granddaughters of my granddaughters find it as wondrous as I did.” - Melisande, Queen of New Tolkas

New Tolkas persisted until the late waning, when Dorias sent its armies northward to conquer it. The people of New Tolkas fought back, and it looked to be a long and bitter war until a factor neither side predicted defeated both armies.

Use of large-scale fire magic ignited many of the coal seams running below New Tolkas, transforming the Plains of Hope to the Plains of Despair with the toxic smoke of the burning earth. New Tolkas suffered an artificial version of the ruin that had come to the first nation of Tolkas.

The armies of Dorias returned home, depleted by the conflict, but for the survivors of New Tolkas there was no home to return to. A few refugees went to Efaruna, but more followed the path blazed by the tribes their ancestors had displaced years ago, and cried out to dark powers for their salvation.

“Dorias began as a nation that valued skill and craftsmanship, but when lean times came, it turned to war. In aggressive action, it seemed that even defeat was to the benefit of Dorias, for the massive losses incurred in a disastrous campaign would reduce the number of mouths to feed, and the spoils from success would feed them.” – Morgan, Last Lorekeeper of Voor

Dorias, in the southwest, gained a great wealth in minerals in its share of land, and the inclinations of its people were bent towards craft with stone and metal. For a very long time, Dorias remained at peace with the rest of the world. However, that did not last.

When disaster and the simple action of time alike destroyed the resources that Dorias had once enjoyed, they turned to war in order to gain something back. Their first major campaign resulted in the destruction of New Tolkas. While few if any of their great invasions met with success, smaller raids and skirmishes took land and resources from Vishtal and Efaruna.

“If this is to be my end, let it come; I shall face it with steel in my hand! Dorias Unbroken!” – Mattias, King of Dorias

Dorias was, in effect, the last of the Waning Nations to truly fall. Its grand campaign against Efrauna and Vishtal looked to be meeting with success, but forces not aligned with any nation preyed on Dorias in return. Great demons and dragons that had laired in seclusion since the Age of Heroes emerged to lead hordes of Nightstalkers against the order of Dorias.

Without its armies largely at home to defend it, the fate of Dorias, as a nation, was inevitable. Defiant until the very end, the armies of Dorias returned home to find slaughter and monsters. Companies became roving bands of barbarian warriors, hunting the dark forces where they could. Sadly, without sites to defend or the magic to do so, they did not survive in the Age of Darkness, while their nearly broken human opponents, the men of Efaruna and Vishtal, fared better.

“It will weather any storm, survive any siege. It will preserve our people against the chaos and darkness that are rising in the world, until the end of time it needs be – unbreakable, self-sustaining, and filled with enough souls to ensure continued survival.” – Fortress Architect

The Grand Fortress is one of the greatest singular feats of construction ever completed by mortal hands in the Multiverse. The stronghold was vast – essentially, an artificial mountain possessed of rising spire towers and broad terrace plateaus in addition to the great, deep bulk that held homes, places of business, and eventually the fields to feed millions of humans.

The Grand Fortress was constructed in the early waning, a project of Vistal, erected on Efaruna soil. When it opened, nearly ten million humans migrated to it. The vast majority (all but a few thousand) were from either of the two nations responsible for its creation, but Vishtal negotiated hard to lure artists, philosophers, master craftsmen, and other valuable personages from Dorias and Tolkas to the Grand Fortress, hoping that such folk would serve them in good stead.

The Grand Fortress was indeed a treasure trove of the world’s knowledge and skill – no greater repository of either existed, except perhaps for the University of the Lorekeepers. However, much like the University, everything that was safely kept in the Grand Fortress was squandered. Perhaps some good came out of that place – pearls of wisdom, occasional clever crafts, but cut off from human society, it served only to remove the elements it preserved.

The courts of Efaruna and Vishtal retreated into the Fortress as well. While Efaruna was ruled effectively from the site for many long years, Vishtal’s royal family almost immediately lost what actual power they had, leaving comparatively minor functionaries wielding what they could.

However, the Grand Fortress served its purpose well – It withstood a major siege from the nation of Dorias, and no force of demons, dragons, nightstalkers, or any other savage power even dared attempt its walls. When the Last Dawn came, the Fortress was the only part of the world where the mere facts of survival were provided for.

Still, an epidemic of suicide, insanity, and despair cut the population of the Fortress brutally in the wake of the Last Dawn. What millions remained were no doubt the safest people in the world, with the highest standard of life, however. In fact, after the initial chaos died down, life inside the Fortress was almost unchanged, save perhaps that its residents, owing to lower numbers, could afford to live a little richer.

“It was never a home… just a big empty space where I happened to live. I was safe from the outside world, yes, but also a prisoner inside those walls, trapped by the fear and ignorance of everyone around me. I had to go, and I don’t miss it.” – Larasa Farleth

In the Late Waning and the Age of Darkness, the Grand Fortress can truly be said to have its own culture. Vital resources were produced and held communally – everyone was guaranteed food and clothes the same way that citizenship within the Fortress naturally guaranteed them housing. The economy, such as it was, was driven by luxuries and fine products: With two royal courts in residence, the demand for nice things never let up.

In addition, the Grand Fortress could boast the most spell-casters per capita of any large population. All forms of magic were known, practiced, taught, and ultimately put to use if possible. The people of the Grand Fortress tended to shun Black magic for its sinister associations with darkness, but even it was used occasionally, and by the Age of Darkness much of the grunt, unskilled manual labor was done by skeletal hands.

The first Years of Darkness were recorded by the people of the Grand Fortress as the Troubled Times. Over the course of about fifty years, the population of the Fortress was cut in half due to many dying young (even by their own hands) and many more not producing children. It continued to decline for the rest of the Years of Darkness, though at an ever-decreasing rate: by the end, the people had adapted enough to their new world to begin procreating and growing effectively once more.

The royal courts did not properly survive the Troubled Times of the Grand Fortress. The individuals no doubt did, and one might even suspect that the well-to-do were less prone to the despair and death that visited the Fortress than were the commons, indicating that one could probably consider many residents of the Fortress bluebloods by its end. By the end though, the rulership of the Fortress was managed by a large council. Some, truthfully or not, claimed lineage to the ancient royals, while others made no such pretenses. The people of the Fortress had lost enough of their history that it was rather moot in any case.

On the whole, the people of the Grand Fortress could often be regarded as cool and distant. They were also, oddly enough, a superstitious and fearful lot: the Grand Fortress was protected by a series of wards that amounted to a Circle of Protection scaled to match the Fortress itself, maintained by countless mages through all the Years of Darkness.

Though it never failed and seldom faltered, the magical protection allowed the Fortress residents to go soft: smaller towns might be protected in a similar manner, but the militia would still have to fend off the Nightstalkers. A hard life, no doubt, but one that allowed the people the knowledge that the things in the dark could be defeated.

Fortress residents, on the other hand, were safe from the dangers of the world, and also ignorant of the fact that their own strength could match at least some number of such things. To the very end they dreaded the Darkness, dreaded the outside, and with one notable exception huddled within their walls until they died.

“What is a word when it is divorced from all meaning? Does it continue to exist, or does it cease to be a word when it no longer represents an idea? This is Voor, a word that has no meaning, to which the Lorekeepers cling. There could be no more appropriate term, for the lore they keep is as meaningless as ‘Voor’, locked away and kept from having purpose…” – Tala, Former Lorekeeper and Queen of Tolkas

The Lorekeepers of Voor are an organization of nearly unfathomable antiquity, existing in all ages of the world except for the Age of Myths, a span of time exceeding ten thousand years.

The first Lorekeepers were elven, naturally, as Taramir’s native humans existed in a state of barbarism for essentially the whole of the Age of Forests. While a continuity of apprenticeship and teaching does extend from that time to the Age of Darkness, the original texts of the first Lorekeepers largely do not. Only a few volumes, mostly those written about the Age of Myths and not the then-present Age of Forests, were still available during Morgan’s apprenticeship. The rest had been condensed, summarized, recopied, and the originals lost to the ravages of time.

What good records of the Age of Forests did make it through unscathed say little about the Lorekeepers themselves, but it can be surmised that they were far more numerous and active in those days, perhaps even going so far as to be a political power to be reckoned with. A few passages seem to suggest, at least, that the Lorekeeper policy of non-interference was not adopted until after the Great War that ushered in the Age of Heroes (and had a hand in destroying many of the Age of Forests records).

Was this an act of penance for uplifting humanity, as Tala’s writings in her apprenticeship suggested? Or did the chaos and destruction of the war simply drive the Lorekeepers to seek solitude and isolation? It is possible, even likely, that the modern world will never know.

“A Lorekeeper of Voor has a sacred duty to ever watch the world, never interfering with its events. Knowledge is our cause, an ends in and of itself, not a means to some other goal. We serve the lore itself, and our service must remain pure, untainted by worldly desire to use the knowledge.” – Kalas, Lorekeeper of Voor

The first mention of Humans in the preserved annals of the Lorekeepers, at least as a sentient race, dates to the late Age of Forests, wherein the Lorekeeper responsible for the particular log took in a wild human and slowly taught ‘it’ to speak, obey manners, and as the finishing touch on his experiment, to wield magic. Tala of Tolkas cited this record as evidence for her human-uplift theory, but whether or not this act sparked the end of an age, it lines up well with Humanity’s rise to prominence. Within a hundred years, the Lorekeepers had inducted their first human as a full member, and within another century, human hands began to shape the newly dawned Age of Heroes.

The earliest record of the Lorekeeper’s determination to watch the world and not interact with it comes at the start of the Age of Heroes. The number of Lorekeepers dropped sharply from several thousand to several hundred, and they began to center themselves around the Northern University, abandoning their other outposts and transporting their tomes and records to it.

During this time, there was also a major turn-over between elven and human Lorekeepers. At the start of the Age of Heroes, there had only been five humans to enter the ranks. By the start of the Waning Age, there were only two elven Lorekeepers, and they were the last elves to hold the title.

The reasons for this are somewhat mysterious, not because there is no fathomable cause, but because there are too many competing theories. Humans were ascendant as the world power, they tend to do everything faster than their elven counterparts (if not as well, say the elves), and there seemed to be some enmity between the Lorekeepers and the remaining elven factions. Which of these factors actually played a part is impossible to know.

The number of Lorekeepers declined slowly through the Age of Heroes and Age of Empire, and their involvement with the world did the same. Throughout the Age of Heroes, many still traveled, actively seeking out history being made and occasionally, accidentally, making some themselves. As the Age of Empire tamed the world, the Lorekeepers simply positioned members in various courts to observe the shifting tides of politics. Shortly into the Waning, they stopped leaving their University on official business at all.

It is possible, certainly, that the decay of the Lorekeepers into nothingness was not due to the Waning and the Last Dawn, as was the decay of the rest of the world. They had been waning, though slowly and gracefully, since the end of what had essentially been their age. It would not have taken planar cataclysm to push them over the edge.

“I have gazed into the darkness… behind the darkness. What I have seen has shaken me to my core, but I am yet unsure of my knowledge. I shall look again into the abyssal gulfs of night that now surround us. Knowledge is sacred, and I do not fear it. Only the thought of remaining ignorant fills me with dread.” – Varrignan, Lorekeeper of Voor, who was later found by his brethren intermittently screaming and sobbing, having clawed out his eyes in terror.

With the Last Dawn, the world that the Lorekeepers refused to interfere with interfered with them instead. Thirteen full Lorekeepers were alive at the Last Dawn due to a policy of single masters and single apprentices begun in Year of Light 17172. Approximately a century later, there were only three.

The other ten lines of Lorekeepers died out when either the master died without taking an apprentice, before the apprentice was ready and no other master chose to tutor him or her, or with the death of the apprentice and the refusal of the master to take another. Most infamous of these losses was the suicide of Varrignan, though he was not the only one to, in effect, claim his own life.

Two of the three remaining lines were severed not long after matters had seemed to become stable, when two apprentices left the Lorekeepers (One taken by Nightstakers, the other following after her) and their masters failed to train replacements.

Thus it fell to the Planeswalker-to-be Morgan to be the last Lorekeeper of Voor, inheritor of all their history and culture…

“I shall except that the purpose of life is to better and to propagate itself. I shall better my life, and the lives that I touch. I shall spread life where I travel. I shall nurture life at home. When the leaves sing in the wind, I shall listen and be obedient to their message. I shall nurture the earth, and be nurtured in return.” – Emerald Acolyte’s Devotional

In Year of Light 16969, a man calling himself Skye Verdantdawn (no doubt an assumed name) rallied mobs of disaffected Vishtal citizens. After several months, local authorities began to crack down on his “cult”, which preached harmony and oneness with nature, and seemed to offer an alternative to the negligent government, calling for people to abandon their jobs and homes to live from the land.

Shortly after persecution in Vishtal began, cells of Verdantdawn’s movement sprung up in Efaruna. However, Efaruna was a nation in glory days, and the call to abandon civilization found far less traction. In the end, Verdantdawn lead his most devoted followers on a pilgrimage through to the mountain range known as the Emerald Peaks.

There, the faithful established a commune. Many of them already practiced green magic before joining Verdantdawn, and many more were educated in it. Though the conclave eschewed the conveniences afforded to ‘mainstream’ civilization, they mastered arts of growth that not only provided food, but shelter and some luxuries as well while throughout the land agriculture was becoming more difficult.

The faithful believed that Verdantdawn was a reincarnation, in human form, of one of the great elvish druids of the Age of Forests. Others sources suggest that Verdantdawn was a half-elf, formed of the taboo union of Taramir’s two greatest races. Whatever the case, he was without a doubt a genius in his craft, both powerful and innovative.

For the duration of his life, the length of which lent credence to both the tales of his spiritual superiority and the rumor of his bastard parentage, Verdantdawn continued to walk among the people of the civilized world, especially Vishtal, seeking out converts for his cause.

“The Emerald Peaks were an exercise in hypocrisy. Its founders, mostly from Vishtal, left their home in protest over their government’s isolation in the Grand Fortress. They then withdrew to their own secret conclave, largely becoming more hidden than the nobles.” – Morgan, Last Lorekeeper of Voor

Recruitment ended with the death of Verdantdawn. The Emerald Peaks, thereafter, became largely reclusive. Either forgotten by the mainstream, or thought of as a threatening cult, it is likely that one or more nations would have made war on them had they been any more offensive.

In 17133, the Society of the Emerald Peaks did manage to give something back to the world at large – A strange blight began to destroy crops, even those adapted to live without natural light, such as the vinebeds beneath the Grand Fortress. For tense months in spring and summer, it seemed that by the harvest there would either be starvation or war.

However, the Emerald Peaks acolytes came down from their mountain in that year. With the magic they had learned, they not only cured the crop blights for large swaths of arable land, but managed to increase the yields enough that harvests were better than they had been in a dozen years. After that, the acolytes retreated as mysteriously as they had emerged.

Some Lorekeepers suggested that the Emerald Peaks conclave created the Blight as well as cured it, their motive being survival against some nation growing tired of independent thought in the high mountains. If that was the case, the stroke worked masterfully; the peoples of Taramir thereafter regarded the Emerald Peaks as sort of guardian angel.

They would never again lift a finger to aid the outside world.

The Society was destroyed suddenly in 17391, just before the Last Dawn, when the Emerald Peaks gave way to volcanic decay. The newly formed Crumbling Mountains were perhaps the least hospitable lands in the Age of Darkness, and continued to erupt with flows of lava and clouds of sulfur smoke until the end of the world.

“When the light first broke over Taramir, we were the ones who were there to see it, and appreciate its beauty. Elves stood tall amidst its virgin fields and young saplings, and knew that all was well and good. We grew proud, for a time, and were punished for our arrogance. Still, we remain, and as we saw the first dawn, so we shall see the last.” – Neyirian Solemnara, Liege of Orien Retreat

Elven culture on Taramir is ancient – they rose from barbarism in the Age of Myth, and dominated the Age of Forests. As in some other planes, the elves of Taramir felt a strong, innate connection to the woodlands. They spread these woodlands over nearly all the surface of Taramir with their druidic magic, creating the Age of Forests.

During the Age of Forests, Elven society consisted of few large nation-states, unified under the rule of a council. However, when the Age of Forests ended, the elves did not re-unify under a single banner. Instead, individual communities, called “retreats” formed. Some of the Forest Retreats in the Age of Heroes were open communities, while others were reclusive. Over time, the reclusive communities won out, the more open elven retreats fading or falling one way or another. By the Waning Age there were three forest retreats in the Great Forest (Orien, Mashar, and Kelian) northeast of Efaruna, and two more in other woods (Amerat and Liransidhe).

In addition to attempting to have fewer and fewer relations with the outside world, elves also gradually turned against intellectualism and civilization in general. Where the elves of the Age of Forests had founded the Lorekeepers and hosted them at their height, the elves of the waning could be said to, on average, have preferred using books for mulch to reading them.

Some, such as Tala of Tolkas, suggest this was a reaction against the Lorekeepers themselves, reinforced by finding comfort in familiar rituals and the natural world. Others suggest that the reaction was instead a gesture opposed to the artifice that humans engaged in, which the elves may have feared was harming Taramir itself.

Even elven magic practices suffered for their isolation and opposition to progress; In the late waning, they were incapable of maintaining the life of large trees in the failing light. With the forests gone, the forest retreats also fell. Some elves settled on human soil, setting aside their pride and disdain to build walled towns after the human style. Others remained in the Sea of Rot or its minor mirrors, keeping to their luddite, druidic ways, even as fungus and trickle of human exiles made the area ever more unlivable by their standards.

“I feel what I feel, and I feel no shame for what I have done, nor who I love.” – Aimeliara Kiirasi, before her execution.

The relationship between humans and elves on Taramir is complicated. Elves played at least a part in the rise of humanity from barbarism, but civilized humans quickly broke and overran elven political power. As such, relations between elves and humans grew more icy, both politically and personally.

By the Age of Empire, the Elves considered unions between their species and Humans (which had been grudgingly accepted by some retreats during the Age of Heroes) to be the darkest taboos, the violation of which resulted in death. If a half elf was discovered, it would be put to death, as would the elven parent and, if they could manage, the human parent as well. Such violators (or, in the case of the halfblood infants, violations) of the great taboo were ceremonially burned alive, so their ‘tainted’ flesh would not rejoin the earth that should be pure.

Humans, for their part, also largely considered unions with elves to be forbidden, but no human government made a systematic effort to punish mixed-race couples or eradicate half elves. The general scorn and distaste from the human populace, though, helped ensure that remaining in human lands was not exactly a pleasant option either.

Still, there were two heydays for half elves. The first was in the Age of Heroes, especially the middle of the age when humans were becoming strong and elves had not yet isolated themselves nor solidified in their hatred of mixed unions. The second came in the late Waning. Some elves remained in the Sea of Rot simply because it was their home, and the human nations used the place as exile for undesirables of all descriptions. While relations were strained by old hatreds, especially those of the militant elves living deeper in the Sea of Rot, life still found a way, and it is likely there were more mixed marriages and half-elf births per year in the late waning than in any other time period.

“Though the darkness breeds only death for civilized people, there are other things that it has spawned. Some superstitious fools say that the Nightstalkers are the remnants of barbarian tribes that sold their souls to demons in order to survive when the survivors of Tolkas took their land. A preposterous notion – there are far too many of the vicious creatures for that to account for them.” – Screed, Rumor-monger of Vishtal.

Nightstalkers were first sighted around Year of Light 17100. For a few years, their existence was doubted, but the sightings and then numbers quickly increased, making traveling the world alone somewhat more dangerous.

Their nature was swiftly uncovered by the Lorekeepers of Voor, who (as was their way) let the other peoples of the world keep guessing, though many hit upon the right notion without the aid of scrying magic. That notion was that the Nightstalkers were creatures that used to be human.

As the world grew harsh and dark, peoples without a steady home, such as the tribes of the Plains of Hope who did not join with the people of New Tolkas, found survival an increasingly difficult struggle. Several such groups, independent of one another, began to barter with the only forces that would listen to ensure their continued survival and, with at least the first, freedom from the march of civilization in New Tolkas.

Whether they bargained with demons, or with spirits of darkness aligned with the new nature of the world, the result was the same. Those humans who accepted such deals were physically transformed into something else. The resultant creature, the nightstalker, was possessed of jet-black skin as well as cruel claws and fangs. Their bodies tended to be thin and sinewy, perhaps a relic of the starvation that most driven to become nightstalkers endured.

Some Nightstalkers presented prominent chins similar to those seen in the Nightstalkers of Caliman (Creatures of currently unknown origin; it is unlikely they share the genesis of Taramir Nightstalkers), while others were short faced. A few were observed to have other physical mutations such as long tails, horns, or other adornments, but the majority lacked such alterations. Always, their eyes remained unchanged – a vestige of humanity set in their now twisted forms.

Certainly, Taramir Nightstalkers were not exactly biological creatures in the end. They were formed of flesh and blood, as many humans that slew them and Lorekeepers that dissected captured specimens could attest. However, they were never observed to require meat nor drink, though if offered the opportunity to feed upon flesh they, like ghouls, would engage in the grisly feast.

“No records of peaceful contact with Nightstalkers exist, and all scholarship suggests that their intentions towards untainted humanity are nothing but murderous. Yet still I wonder at the old tale of my order, of a girl not killed but… taken. Certainly, they have some sinister cunning, the image of human intellect, but perhaps there is more to it.” – Morgan, Last Lorekeeper of Voor

Sages never discovered what became of the human’s soul in such transactions as created the Nightstalkers. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, perhaps the soul was preserved, if perverted. Perhaps it was simply discarded as so much slag, unnecessary for the Dark Powers. And what of second-generation Nightstalkers, then? Their numbers were such that it is assured they were capable of breeding. Were those born that way soulless while their parents had souls, or could they perhaps possess the souls their parents had lost? One horrifying possibility considered by scholarship is that Nightstalkers birthed untainted humans, children that were immediately subjected to the same transmutations as their forbearers. Perhaps it was simply discarded as so much slag, unnecessary for the Dark Powers.

In any case, the intellect was another matter altogether. Communication with Nightstalkers was never, to the knowledge of the Lorekeepers, met with success, but it is certain that Nightstalkers were capable of communicating with their masters – Demons and Spirits of the Darkness – and with each other as well. While few of them were observed to use tools, this seems to have been a matter of choice rather than ability. Nightstalkers captured by one force or another in order to study them defied cages that would baffle and contain animals, their problem-solving skills as keen as a human. At least one was able to pick locks.

Those in the wild preferred their teeth and claws to manufactured weapons, and though seen to wear no clothing (for their mutations hid what features any remaining human mores would consider objectionable and rendered them tough enough to go out in the world without protection), some were seen to carry adornments, either fetishes of bone or jewelry won no doubt from the destruction and consumption of some human settlement.

All this evidence leads to one inexorable conclusion – the Nightstalkers were probably capable of achieving anything their human forbearers had, but were simply unwilling to form themselves into a building civilization like the dominant races of Taramir that had come before them.

“We pay homage to the Powers of the Earth that support us, give thanks to the Powers of Water that nourish us, respect the Powers of Fire that warm us, and make our devotions to many other sorts of Powers besides. Yes, even the Powers of the Darkness. It is more important than ever to honor them, for they grow mightier each night.” – Amara the Fair, Northern Shaman, to the Assembly of New Tolkas.

In the Waning Age, Taramir’s great distinction was not between good and evil, but between Light and Darkness, and the side of Darkness was always the stronger. The Dark Powers of Taramir were those entities – mostly Demonic or Elemental – which represented the side of Darkness, and were magical creatures enough to be considered “Powers” (a rough translation from the elven term), entities more of spirit and mana than mere mortals, but not quite grand or inscrutable enough to be considered gods.

The most numerous and mighty Dark Powers were elemental in nature. Elementals of the Darkness grew strong, glutted on the expansion of their domain in the waning light. Many such entities that had merely represented shadows in the night became true Powers, more of them showing up as the Waning deepened.

Elemental Powers were concerned, primarily, with the expansion of their domain, pure darkness and those things related to it. It is suspected that, as the northern tribes revered most forms of Elementals, they were the sort of Dark Power that created the first Nightstalkers. Nightstalkers would themselves cease creating the light of civilization (for the Dark Elementals, a very physical term – humans need light to see by and will create it), and in great numbers might act to snuff it out.

“Fear has always been a tempting emotion, as liable to consume one as rage or passion. Nowhere is that more clear than in its demons, who must enjoy the irony of my dreading their growing power.” – Sodar, Lorekeeper of Voor, Essays on Metaphysical Biology

The most iconic Dark Powers, what the civilized peoples of Taramir thought of when they looked into the night and saw nothing, were the demons. Demons were Anathema, the physical representation of all things negative in the intelligent spirit. Fear, Hatred, Envy, Greed – these things, and others like them, gave birth to Taramir’s demons and gave them strength. In some ways, Demons were simply another kind of elemental, one representing intelligent concepts rather than natural forces. As with elementals, the mightiest among them were liable to be considered Powers.

Demons aligned primarily with fear and despair grew very strong in the waning, as the natural state of the world was one that increased their unwitting tribute from humans. Demonkind had also long ago discovered that acts of obeisance or worship rendered unto them were as nourishing as their natural domains. Thus, when they observed the creation of Nightstalkers, they chose to mimic it (or perhaps the Elemental Powers mimicked them; none can be sure).

It is thought that each demonic Dark Power may have made different bargains. Some may very well have claimed the soul of the nightstalker-to-be, but for most it was good enough that the nightstalker would pay them homage (increasing the demon), and sow fear and despair among normal humans (increasing the demon’s domain).

Other sorts of demons might also be considered Dark Powers by the civilized humans of Taramir if strong enough, but they were unlikely to have been served so well by Nightstalkers – the gangly, terrible creatures would not inspire much Lust or Avarice, after all.