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Archivist of Rohan.

nahh it's gone, I lost all my data when my hard drive crashed last month, now I will have to re-write it, I'll make a smaller version for the challenge...
 
I am Thalin, son of Orik, son of Jovan. My line is descended from Bror, son of Dain I. I hail from the Ered Luin. I made my way to Erebor. It was I who lead the attack on Moria, to drive out the god-forsaken hordes of vermin which desecrate our halls. I have fought many battles, and always I have emerged victorious. But this was the hardest fight yet. This is the story of my greatest battle, The Battle of Moria, as I have set it down for the Moste Olde Order of the Bards. I have had dreams at night. Some people dream without sound, or with other senses that they do not possess in waking. But my dreams have sound. These dreams are always narrated by the sounds of battle. And they are always of one thing. Fire. Great, red flames, wreathed in shadow. They just sit there, flickering. Then I awake, dowsed in sweat.

We had been fighting for hours.
All had gone well for the first part; from the Dimrill Dale we had driven them back to the Doors of Moria and slain many in the Dale and on the steps. They barred the gates. For half an hour be battered at the doors, and finally they gave way, and we advanced, only to be met with a line of Orc spearmen and a volley of arrows. We withdrew to the steps and reformed ranks, into a phalanx. We then advanced. It was the first time, other than Balin's expedition, that a large number of Dwarves had set foot beyond the Door of Moria. The blood ran hot in our veins. Every statue seemed to be a Dwarf king of old, goading us to victory, every relief the face of an ancient warrior. I think it safe to say that the fire of the forge of Mahal ran in our bodies that day. We were invincible. What cared we for black-feathered arrows? What fear were curved swords meant to instill in our hearts? Our first check came at the Bridge. They stationed archers on the far side, and arrows, rocks and spears assailed us whenever we would attempt to cross. Eventually we had rushed forward. After the bridge, we had taken the 1st and 2nd halls, then the Great Stairs, then it was down to the 23rd and 21st, and then a short diversion to pay our respects to Balin's tomb. Then on to the West Stairs and then the Great Delving.
Then our real trouble began.
From across the Delving came a great horn burst. Out rushed their armies. Hundreds of pale Goblins, swinging rusty, scavanged swords and curved scimitars, along with many greater, black true Orcs, clad in dark armor and carrying greatswords and spears. A hail of black-feathered shafts rattled down upon us. The horde began to charge across the bridges. At the head of them were the prime specimens of Orkdom. Great, pale Gundabad Orcs, with Cave Trolls behind them. Our archers fired volley after volley, and they dropped like flies off the platforms, into the works below. But they kept coming. I shouted "Form ranks!" At every bridge one of my captains formed a line of stolid warriors, halberds out, axes ready, bows drawn. Then they reached us. At first, it seemed as though we would hold them there. Then the trolls came up. They cleaved great chunks in our formations, and many warriors fell beneath the great maces and curved swords of the Gundabad Orcs. "Fall back!" I cried, as I felled a pike-wielding Hobgoblin, "Fall back to the stairs!" The aftmost ranks of our troops turned and hurried back, while the foremost three rows continued to cover our retreat. Then I gave a signal, and they too turned and fled, but rather than running them down and slaughtering them, the Goblins were checked by a furious storm of arrows fired from a two-thick line of archers, who then turned and retreated as well.We had no room to reform for a while after that, and we fought them across the stairs, down the corridor, then turned as we were half way across the Twenty-First Hall, and formed ranks once more, spears in front, pointed forward, on a par with the stone floor, archers behind, their bows drawn, ready to let loose. Then the enemy came into view. At the sight of a block of grim-faced Dwarves with spears and swords one moment, when we had been retreating the next, they paused a moment. Then One of the largest Gundabads came forward. He shouted at the Goblins in their own flithy tongue, "Khuzdaesh nevo shuku nai grashaa! Moagimzad!" At his word, the Orc hordes immediately formed ranks. Old, twisted spears and oddly shaped pikes in front, while behind a line of archers with thick pine bows drawn. Some of them carried axes scavanged from the fallen, many carried curved swords, and a few wielded more exotic weapons - maces, flails, and glaives. Then a roar began, quiet at first, like a thunder clap miles off, then it became louder, and louder, and as more voices joined in, it rose to a great pitch, lead by the Gundabad. We too began shouting and chanting. "Bagilkhazadush! Great Dwarf vengeance!" and, "Baruk Khazad! Khazad ai-menu!" and, "Durin! Puzgul Durin Khazad!" Then both sides charged. We met like two great boulders, and immediately the roar on both sides was joined by the slick and slice and clang of steel upon steel. I slashed at an Orc, then ducked a blow from the left and parried, following it up to a blow to the torso with my axe haft. I wheeled just in time to block another blow from a Cave Goblin, who then grabbed hold of my axe, heedless of its blade. I punched him in the throat with all my might. My gauntlet had done the trick; he slumped to the ground, gurgling, and the hold on my axe was lifted. Orc. Orc. Hobgoblin. Cave Goblin. Orc. Cave Troll. Every body became a blur. Then he came wading toward me. The great Gundabad, Hashaa. He swung his great tree branch at me, but I dodged, and slipped my axe past his shield, nicking him under the arm. He bellowed and swung again, and again, then made an uppercut, all of which I dodged. I danced and hopped around him, parrying every blow. Our forces were being pushed back. We began to move back, slowly but surely losing ground, until we had passed through the 21st and 23rd halls and had made our way to the Great Stair. There I beheaded Hashaa, but still they came. Up the stairs and through the Second Hall, then we turned and made a last, desperate stand at the First Hall. They brought up a platoon of trolls clad in black armor made of old wood and bits of rusty metal machinery. I slew one with a crucible helm, then cut the legs out from under one with a belt made out of steel cord. There we lost many, and their bodies piled over the entrance. A tear fell from my eye as my friend Akam fell. There were cries and shouts and moans. Finally, I gave the order. "Retreat! To the Bridge of Khazad-dum! Fall back!"
And that brings us to here, now. I stand here, using the bow of another Dwarf. He lies not eight feet from me, his body broken, his friend weeping over him. He is still alive. He is crying for his mum. I fire. Arrow after arrow after arrow after arrow. With every shot I utter the name of a friend I have lost this day. With every squeal that signifies a hit I utter a curse upon the slain Goblin's soul, praying that he may never find peace, but rather haunt the Void forever. It seems we may be able to stop them. They continuously file across the bridge, and we shoot many of them off. They are half way across now. Then a great, ugly horn shouts. I glance at Anrza, my Chief of Archers. He shrugs, notching another arrow. From the First Hall a glow emanates. What new devilry have these bastards brought up? Then the arrow slips from Anrza's grasp.
On the opposite side of the Bridge stands a figure of shadow, wreathed in flame, standing nearly forty feet tall. In one hand he carries a flaming sword, and in the other a whip of many thongs, which seems made of pure fire. The creature gives a roar. The cry goes up, and the voices float to the cavern roof, where they collect and reverberate. "Durin's Bane! Durin's Bane! The beast of our undoing!" Anrza recovers first. While I stand there, mesmerized, he notches an arrow and fires. He hits the creature in the arm. It pulls out the arrow and snaps it in its teeth. I shout, "Stand your ground! Do not give in to fear! This creature is not immortal! We can slay it!" From the Goblins, the chant rose up. They were shouting it's name - or what they called it, at least - an exotic word, that only such an evil race could think of. "Plastic! Plastic! Plastic! Plastic!" I stared into the heart of the Plastic, those horrible, red flames. Then I realized. I knew what I had to do. Casting down the bow, I took up my axe and jumped onto the bridge. The Plastic was on the bridge as well, now. We advanced toward each other, he with many cracks of his whip.
"Halt!" I cried. "You shall not cross this bridge!" The creature laughed, a deep, cold laugh, wreathed in flame, like its utterer. "I am a servant of Mahal Earthfather, and by his hammer and all the mountains of the world, I declare that you shall not cross! He swung his sword, and I caught it on my blade. Then I ducked beneath his whip as it cracked toward me, and then I drove my axe into his heart.
He gave a roar, then fell. My arm felt afire. My eyes would not focus. I struggled, attempting to master myself. I took a step forward, then another, then I felt that I had fallen down. But it wasn't that far to the floor of the bridge, surely? And then I knew no more.

Darkness. Cold. Heat. Air. My stomach felt as if I were still in freefall, but I was standing. Where was I? I was in a cave. My Dwarven senses told me that much. I searched my person. I had no flint, nor torch. My axe had gone, too. Just my armor. I must have hit an updraft that had slowed my descent so that I escaped with only bruises. I felt around. My hand touched stone. I groped along, listening now and again. There might be Goblins about. I felt to the other way. Two walls. I jumped high as I could. My hand hit stone. I cursed in pain. A roof. So I wasn't dead. I could still feel pain. Then where was I? It was very damp, and not like any tunnel I had seen before. This was beyond old. Any cave is old. It was made centuries ago. But this, this seemed eons. Before the Rings, before Elves in Lorien or Eregion. I groped my way along.
I went on for about a mile, or was it ten? Or was it ten feet? Or was it a life time? Eventually, the tunnel ended at a large, wooden door. It must have been protected with magic, for it showed no signs of rot, though the tunnel was damper than under a Troll's armpit.
I touched the door, cautiously, then, as nothing happened, I opened it. Beyond it was a long, low room, with columns of stone. Here and there, bio-luminescent crystal deposits glowed blue. Even their light hurt my eyes after the endless blackness of the tunnel. I could tell we were very far underground. On the walls were reliefs, which seemed to depict all of Dwarf history. I could see Mahal carving the Dwarves out of the stone of the earth. I could see Tumunzahar and Gabilgathol. I could see Khazad-dum being delved. I saw the treasures being mined. I saw the Balrog killing the king. I saw all that happened after. Ered Mithrin. Erebor. Ered Luin. Iron Hills. Dunland. Even this battle. Then, at the far end, I saw a picture of a Dwarf walking alone down a long, dark tunnel. The Dwarf looked like me. But how was that possible? The reliefs were thousands of years old!
Then I saw what was at the end.
A tombstone.
I walked forward. Depicted on the top of the tombstone was a lifesize carving of a Dwarf. Upon his head were seven stars, his long beard tucked into his belt. His arms were crossed over his breast and beard, holding a jeweled sword. At his feet was a shield. On his finger was a ring. He wore a shirt of mail, but was dressed in rich robes of silk and fir. There was an inscription. It read thus.


DURIN
UZBAD KHAZAD-DUM​


This was Durin I. Durin the Deathless. Father of the Longbeards. My ancestor. I knelt, and payed my respects.

Then I awoke. Above me a Dwarf healer was sponging my forehead.
"Wha - " my voice cracked.
"You're in the 21st Hall, My Lord. We drove those Goblin bastards out."
"But, the tomb - how did I - "
"We found you here, My Lord."
"Why do you call me My Lord? You've always called me Sir before."
The healer took up a breastplate, and showed me it. My reflection stared back at me, caked with blood, sweat, dirt, and Orc blood. I gasped. Through the grime, upon my brow, shone seven white stars.
The Dwarves who were nearby shouted. "All hail Thalin, son of Orik. Lord of Moria. Puzgul Durin Khazad! Un razadul Khazad-dum!"
 
Yes, yes I did. And Rolo apparently already had a story saved which he would have c/pd if it hadn't crashed and burned.
 
Something I've had for a while.

Before the Primordials

All that we know of the beginning of Ia, the world, is that a great being - one of many who at that time traversed the Void - created Daear, the Earth, and Mora, the Waters. And around the sphere that was Daear and Mora he placed Awyri, the Skies, which served to cushion the earth and water from the outside. And 'round all this was placed Nefaea, the Heavens, and the heavens were a barrier against the Void, so that Ia was isolated from the blackness and cold of the outside. Then this being left forever, never to return.

But before he left, the being left behind the Naimal (singular Naima) to steward Ia and help it grow. Many of the Naimal there were, and still there are many, though some have faded or chosen to die.

Melwyrd is one of the chief Naimal, or gods, of Ia. He rules the heavens, and dwells in a palace of starlight, from which point you can see all the stars and moons and constellations of Ia.

Melwyrd took Laia and Har, the Naimal of the sun and moon, as his own, and had his Cyclopes forge them both great thrones, which he hung in the heavens, and they are eternally moving, east to west, and when Laia and Har sit on them, their radiance shines forth as the sun and moon, and when Har shines the whole of the surface of Ia is illuminated, and when he rests, his sister Laia comes forth and shines her light, which is not so great as Har's, but is lovely to behold.

The spouse of Melwyrd is Sereniel, Queen of the Stars. Upon her brow is the bright Southern Star, which shines more than its companions, and she sits upon a throne of light with Melywyrd, and the palace is in the South, where the Southern Star appears. She is fairest of all Naimal, with raven black hair and skin like ivory.

Brenar is lord of the seas, and he wears a great shirt of scale armor, and carries a three-pronged spear. His hair is black, and he has a great black beard with shells and seaweed and urchins entangled in it. He lives in a palace of coral and mother-of-pearl, with his wife, Reia, mistress of the water at its calmest, and their retinue of Tritons and Nymphs.

Galphren is lord of the skies, and the eagles and Winds serve him, carrying his messages and doing his bidding. He resides in a palace of clouds. His wife Averis, mistress and protector of all birds.

Dalwerd chose the earth for his realm, and all within the earth is his, save the Underworld. Diamonds, emeralds, gold, Mithril, iron, copper. All are his. As are the fires at the center of the earth, where are his forges. And there his Deep Gnomes - the most ancient type of Gnome, and rarely found on the surface - also known as Stone Biters, smelt great weapons for the gods.

Melzar is the god of Magic. He is neither good nor evil, and it is he who controls all magic. He is everywhere in Ia, and every spell is a prayer to him, causing him to manipulate the aura around the magician or wizard and turn it to the spell which the sorcerer incantated. By use of this aura, Melzar can do almost anything, and it is good he does not take sides. Melzar is also genderless.

Maroleth is god of the Underworld. He keeps the thousands of monsters that dwell there in check with his platoons of Dark Iron constructs. He is not evil, and no dead dwell in this Underworld.

Dwyrgoth is the twin brother of Maroleth, who kept the Gate to the Underworld, which is made of Dark Iron. His thoughts turned to evil long ago, for he wished to wed Rhyna, who is Dalwerd's spouse. This fueled Dwyrgoth's dislike for Dalwerd. It was Dwyrgoth's experiments that made many of the monsters that inhabit Asgilion and the Underworld, and he also created the races of Goblins (This race was also created by others), Orcs, and Trolls.

Rhyna is Naima of all that grows: trees, flowers, ferns, moss, grass, all she loves. Her husband is Dalwerd, though Dwyrgoth attempted to woo her. It was she who created vegetation during the healing of the world after the War. The Dryads and Ents are her servants, and keep her realms, though they are ever-dwindling.

The Primordial War and the Shaping of Ia

Now at that time the world was still evenly divided twixt land and water. Then the Naimal began to quarrel as to who should rule what realm, and there was strife. The strife erupted into war, with almost all the Naimal, save Metzar, Maroleth, and some others, fighting it out twixt themselves. During this time the Naimal created great armies for themselves, some out of the elements themselves. Giants they created: Frost Giants, Fire Giants, Hill Giants, Stone Giants, Storm Giants. All ranging from the size of a small house to the size of a castle tower. They also created armies out of the Elementals, which roamed freely sewing chaos amongst all. These they called Archons, and they were of ice, fire, water, and earth, and legions of them battled one another. Other experiments were made, with each side in an arms race. Melwyrd created the Cyclopes, great, one-eyed creatures seven feet tall, which eventually rebelled. The greatest of creatures created during this time were the dragons. Great, horned lizards with teeth like swords, tails like maces, and scales as hard as bluesteel. Some breathed fire, others acid. Others breathed a wave of frost, and some breathed no fire at all. They are longer-lived than even Elves, and as diverse as snowflakes. Some have wings, others have eight legs, others no legs. Some no scales but rather leather. But all of them were a force to be reckoned with. Long ago there was a great purge of the Dragons by men, and few Dragons over a thousand years now remain. During the course of this war, the earth and sea were reshapen. Where ever a Naima struck the ground, mountains formed around his foot. When a hammer smashed into the earth, a valley formed. The seabed was uneven, and the grinding of the rocks created dust, sand, and soil.

In the end, no one won, and instead they decided to solve it via meetings, and they each gained their separate realms. The Giants and Dragons left to the hills and mountains and secret places. The Archons were kept under close guard in their masters' castles and houses, and the Elementals were quieted. Then there was a second, with the same outcome.

However, a third war was coming, a war which would see the gods pitted against their own creations - and nearly lose.

The Third Primordial War, also known as the Elemental War, was an uprising by the Giants, Archons, Elementals, Cyclopes, and Demons against the gods, whom they sought to overthrow. They nearly did, too. However, eventually the Cyclopes switched sides, and the Demons deserted. Then the forces of the Primordials were broken. The Elementals were sent into the Elemental Plain, or Chaos. The Archons were made to swear allegiance to the gods - or at least most of them - and the Titans were mostly killed, while the Giants were left on the earth. The war was also won from the inside. The Primordials had made thralls of most of the races that now inhabit the land, save the Elves, who hid. The Giants enslaved Dwarves, the Cyclopes Gnomes, and the Demons used the first humans. These races revolted against their masters, and thus unfooted them, making the gods' assaults that much easier.

During the wars, no one fought harder than Dwyrgoth, and he experimented night and day, seeking for something that would win him the war. In this course he created the races of Goblins, Orcs, Hobgoblins, Bugbears, and Trolls, among hundreds of other monsters, which now creep in the dark places of the overworld or in the Underworld. But among these, only the Trolls were deemed fit for combat, and they were developed near the end of the war, and thus had little affect. Plus, they were no match for Dragons and Giants. Thus, when the war ended, Dwyrgoth threw all his creations onto the earth, and Orcs, Hobgoblins, Trolls, and the rest still plague men, Dwarves, and the other races of Asgilion.

It was during this time that the Naimal began to heal the hurts of the world, and it was then that they accomplished great good. Rhyna created trees and plants, and the others created birds, beasts, and fishes. And the world was made green and good. And it was during this time that Galphren created the Elves in response to the making of Dwarves by Dalwerd, for the othe Naimal interpreted the creation of the Dwarves as a bid for dominion over the world, though Dalwerd merely wished to have a race of his own. Then were created the race of men, either by a Naima or through natural cause. The Halflings are a subspecies of men, while Gnomes were descendants of the Deep Gnomes which serve Dalwerd who found their way to the surface.
 
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