Lore

Introduction

Map of Pendor

The hospice hallway was dimmed and there was lingering smell of bleach as I walked 
down towards Vance’s room.  I knew that he was dying and the summons I received from his 
sister meant that the end was near.  It had been a long year and Vance, my friend since 
college, had struggled with and will finally succumb to, the cancer that he was diagnosed 
with last Christmas.  What a lousy year this had been.

I knocked at the door and entered, pulling the linen drapes aside I saw that he was lying 
in one of those high end hospital beds, a bright red blanket up to his chest and an IV 
drip was attached to his left hand.  I knew it was morphine.  He looked gaunt and tired, 
his hair was uncombed and he had a pale look to him.  Not just pale, but worn, almost 
translucent.  He smiled as I entered.

   “Hello champ how goes it?” I bantered as I sat down in the chair closest to the bed.

   “Hey!  I have been waiting for you slacker.” He said in a strained voice, barely 
above a whisper.  “How am I?  I’ve been better.”  A small mischievous smile crept across 
his face. “You see that hot nurse out there?  Too bad she’s taken.  I can’t talk her out 
of dumping her fiancée and running off with me to Tahiti.” His smile ended in a slight 
grimace and a spasmodic cough.  “Sorry, the morphine is still kicking in.  The pain is 
not fun.” He said.  There was a moment pause where we just looked at each other.  

Memories flooded me, the times we had shared, and a sense of what this man meant to me as 
my friend.  Dam few friends these days to lose any more, especially ones that were so 
important.

   Seeming to sense my mood, Vance smiled, “I still think you should have bought the 
Jag.”  I laughed as my mind flashed back to a time when I could have bought my dream car 
for a song.  I procrastinated and it was sold out underneath me before I mustered the 
guts to sign on the dotted line.  Vance said that I was a fool and went to some pains to 
remind me of his ignored advice for going on twenty years now.  Never of course, in front 
of my wife, but when we were alone, it was almost a mantra.  Twenty years?  Yes, I 
recounted them; I had known this man as my friend over half my life.  

“I have something for you.” He said and he motioned to the table next to him.  There was 
what looked to be a large stationary box.  “Open it.” he said.

 I reached over and grabbed the box.  It was much heavier than I had anticipated and 
brought to my lap where I carefully opened it.  Inside was what looked to be a typed 
manuscript. 

“I have been working on this for a long time”, he said, “and now I want you to have it.”  
He paused as I took a moment and inspected the pages, several hundred, neatly typed.  
This surprised me, as I had no inkling that Vance was a writer.

“I don’t understand” I said, unable to contain my confusion.

He smiled, and said, “Read the introduction.”  He then closed his eyes and sighed, “I 
will just take a short nap here while you do.  Wake me if that hot nurse comes in.  I 
have to work in her some more.”

I smiled then turned my attention to the box in my lap.  The introduction was twenty 
pages long, talking about of all things, the nature of the universe.  Specifically how 
there are infinite variations of reality played out in alternate dimensions and explained 
fairly well under the general term of Quantum Physics.   It went on to cite references 
and theories and wove an intricate argument of how every story, every act of artistic 
creation was a momentary breach between these infinite dimensions bringing that “reality” 
back into our own.   Every story, every novel, every “fantasy world” was in fact, in some 
other alternate dimension and therefore real.  It ended with a question in that do we 
really pull this stuff from alternate dimensions, or by the act of inspiration do we 
cause its existence?  Do we create infinite universes by our acts of creativity and 
storytelling?

I looked up maybe twenty minutes later to see Vance watching me.  He smiled and 
whispered, “Keep reading.” then shut his eyes again.

I looked down at Chapter One, and I started reading about the history of this medieval 
fantasy kingdom: Pendor.

The Creation

A very long time ago the "Eliga" were one with the universe.  Then they discovered the purpose.

They diverged, with half coming into existence and spreading through the multiverse,and half staying in a place to which we have no reference.

The Eliga who came to the Multiverse drifted through time and space until they were offered form.

Some became greater powers that took a single form and were locked in a single time/space; others spread themselves through the multiverse and became the combined soul of a species.  Some took combinations of many forms, some few.  When a form was chosen, memory of the purpose was forfeited.  Some survived, others perished.  Some exist inside time/space, others outside of time space. Some exist in a combination of time/space/dimension.

The Eliga who took form as individuals were as gods to those who took form as individuals.  Those who chose a species spread their life force and individual power across many beings.

Thus in Pendor, the gods, races, and powers were brought into existence over time.

The elves and humans were brought into existence in this form as were all other races, some many in number but great in power; others great in number but lesser in power.

The Elves of Pendor were quick to thrive and became dominant, having few extensions in other dimensions.  They were more focused and personally powerful than other races such, as humans.  While the humans were struggling to survive in thatched huts and using crude spears, the elves were well on the road to creating an advanced society.

Time-immemorial

Many years before an event the Pendorian Historians call “The War of the Titans”, humans were organized into tribes and clans, living as hunter/gatherers. There were several elder races, the most prominent being a race that today we call “Elves”. After coming from "elsewhere", apparently, they inhabited a fairly large island far to the Southeast of the lands now called Pendor.

There were other races native to Pendor, Giants, Trolls, Dragons, Furies and Gryphons. These races did not use tools, and their artifacts did not endure as long as those of the Elven race, but they were strong, somehow magical, and very long-lived.  Extreme longevity and the use of magic seemed to be the hallmarks of all the elder races.

The world of Prophesy of Pendor with all of its continents - Gwythdarian should be south-east of Amala and so, it's not represented on this map - it's presumed to be under the sea by the time of PoP - -.

The elves lived on an island called Gwythdarian. Their society was organized into Houses, which were ruled by Lords and their families. These houses were both social and political entities; there were five major houses and many minor houses. Their social structure was interesting, as it was divided into distinct social classes.  Class was determined early in an elf’s life by a demonstration of personal power, what we would term “Magic”. Elves who demonstrated and could maintain a high level of personal power were called Sindari, and those who failed to do so were called Noldor. The latter lost status in their respective houses and became a servant class. Often members of minor houses would align themselves with the greater houses to provide services and receive a measure of preference. The greater houses were fairly competitive, both amongst themselves and with the lesser houses.

For the most part, Elves were scholars and explorers of the use of personal power. Elves did not bother with the race of men, because men did not use Magic, and thus were deemed of lesser status even than the Noldor.

Most of the stories began on Gwythdarian, where there was a disagreement between one of the major Elven Houses - who had used forbbiden magic -, and the rest of the Elven nation.

The story of the end begins with two young elves born twins, which was exceedingly rare in Elven births. The twins, a boy and a girl, Avaldain and his sister Althea, were unfortunately destined to become Noldor. The Sindari Lord of their house, Lord Gaelrandir crafted a sailing ship and embarked upon a quest to find a reclusive “Oracle” living in the far north. His goal was to seek help to counter the renegade Sindari who were bending their power towards forbidden ends. The twins stowed away on the ship to be close to their father, who was House Under-Steward in the service of Lord Gaelrandir.

After many trials and tribulations they found the “Oracle” and tragically, along the way, the twins’ father, the Under-Steward, died. What happened next is where the story takes strange turns.

At first it seemed that the Oracle was a small Dragon, as this was the form in which the Oracle appeared in its first meeting with Lord Gaelrandir.  Later, however, it becomes evident that the Oracle is something altogether different. It lives somewhere else and manifests itself through a pool of water on the island. The Oracle takes control of a nearby willing “host”, which allows the Oracle direct interaction with Pendor. One of its favorite hosts is a small Dragon, which has a general disdain for Elves and an appetite for small white rabbits.

The Oracle decided to help Lord Gaelrandir, but stipulated a steep price for his aid: Althea would have to stay on the island and serve the Oracle for her entire life. Even worse, the Oracle would wipe away all memory of Althea so that no Elf would remember that she had ever existed.

It is also not clear what help, if any, the Oracle gave to Gaelrandir, yet the Elven Lord seemed satisfied and returned to Gwythdarian.

Unknown to Lord Gaelrandir, the Oracle had put Avaldain under a compulsion.  He was under a “geas” to return to Gwythdarian, gather together what Noldor he could, and leave Gwythdarian forever.

When the expedition returned to Gwythdarian, the situation had worsened to virtually open warfare. There had been bloodshed, and tensions were strong. No longer was Gwythdarian a haven for the learned, with sweet music floating on the cool breeze. It was a solemn place without sound and the air was heavy with foreboding.  Lord Gaelrandir hastened to organize a concerted effort to stop the renegade noble house. He called together the heads of many other houses and held a grand council. He and his allied Sindari were so involved in the struggle before them that they did not notice that Avaldain had gathered several thousand Noldor and sailed for the mainland.

When the Sindari conflict reached its full pinnacle, the fury of magic that was unleashed caused the entire island to sink beneath the sea, killing all the Sindari and forever destroying the magic used by the other elder races. This event led to the eventual extinction of the elder races.

The surviving Noldor roamed Pendor for several months, then finally settled down and built a city next to a lake. Avaldain cloaked the city, having apparently some control over magic, so that no one could ever find it.

Whatever it was that the Sindari had done, a forbidden “something” survived the sinking of Gwythdarian...

Madigan, a Prophet of Pendor, who may have been part Elf, made a prophecy recorded by the Pendorian Historians, predicting the coming of a great Warrior/Defender to Pendor.

Almost a Millennium ago

The war of the Titans laid the foundation for the ascension of Man. A terrible war, between ancient elder races — the Sindarin, the most ancient and powerful, against the Noldor, the lesser, who could not expertise in the arts of magic — left the world stripped of magic, and those magnificent mythical people, once so powerful, were now only the stuff of folklore and legends. Only the reclusive Noldor, what since “The Lord of the Rings”, we call “Elves” remain from those times, and their once great cities are all destroyed save perhaps one.

Three hundred fifty four years ago – the Founding of Pendor

It is the time of Man. The story centers on the fertile lands of Pendor and the struggles of the peoples, their leaders and their destiny. Several hundred years ago, a single Kingdom was forged by sword and fire. A peace was maintained and prosperity came to the kingdom and it flourished. Five generations of Pendorian Kings sat on the Silver Throne in Sarleon and for nearly two hundred years they guided the destiny of their land and its subjects.

From the Founding of Pendor – the year 198

The downfall of the Kingdom was as swift as it was vile. A single month, thirty days, and the Empire was in tatters. The irony was it was not by the sword in battle, nor by some dark magic that caused the deaths of the King and his family. But by an unseen killer, a disease, the red plague that ravaged the land and cut down the peoples of the Kingdom, great and small, like an assassin in the night.

The royal family had perished, and there was no King to rule the land. Then came the invasions that seemed to shatter the once proud kingdom into slivers and the glory that was once the Kingdom of Pendor, was now itself the stuff of legend.

With the death of the King and his heirs, there was chaos. Multiple lords laid claim to the throne and nearly every noble of the land began squabbling over succession.

From the Founding of Pendor – the year 199

The carefully laid agreements, truces and alliances with neighboring powers became suspect. In the North, the mountain tribesmen began raiding the heartlands of Pendor. Embolden by their success and the lack of response from the Knights of the Realm, they struck even deeper and soon this led to the siege to Rane. The Earl of Rane sought help from the nobles of the land, but the schemes of the powerful found reasons not to come to his aid. Many Northern Lords, banded together and formed a small army that marched to defend the city from the onslaught of the northern Mystmountain warriors.. The battle was bloody and fierce, and in the end, the siege was lifted, and the barbarian tribesmen and their shaman leaders, routed back to their mountain homes. The Northern Lords, who fought so valiantly that day, decided to establish a knighthood order, the Order of the Dragon, comprised of the valiant warriors who defended the city. News of this new order was not well received by other knighthood orders or by the nobility to the South. They demanded that the Order of the Dragon be disbanded which in the minds of the proud warriors of the North, was an unforgivable insult to their valor. The scorn of other established knighthood and the lack of support to route the invaders from Rane prompted the Northern Lords to break ties with the southern lords and declared themselves an independent Kingdom: The Kingdom of Ravenstern.

Reeling from the succession of the Northern cities and lords, the remaining Pendorian nobility were not prepared to meet the next challenge that followed within a few short years.

From the Founding of Pendor – the year 202

From the South, over the southern sea,the Great Baccus Empire launched an invasion fleet and landed a powerful army on the shores of Pendor led by the war hardened General Oasar. He drove inland conquering cities and castles, and seemed unstoppable. Ironically, within a few short months of campaigning, the general received by messenger that the great Baccus Empire itself was in civil war and that the Emperor had been assassinated. After receiving this shocking news, Oasar established himself, with the support of several Pendor Lords, as Overlord of Janos and officially broke away from what was left of the Baccus Empire. The great Baccus Empire convoluted and fragmented into dozens of principalities, city-states, and kingdoms. The greatest and most powerful is the under the dominion of the priesthood of the serpent: a powerful and seemingly mystical religion of warrior priests who worship the unnamed goddess of darkness who manifests herself in the form of a snake.

For the once great kingdom of Pendor, that meant that a large portion of it’s Southern lands, cities and nobility were now either dead or sworn to service under this upstart general who calls himself Overlord.

From the Founding of Pendor – the year 204

After the establishment of the Northern Kingdom of Ravenstern and the invasion of Oasar, the powerful Lord Alfred, Duke of Sarleon, consolidated the remaining lords of Pendor and declared himself King of Sarleon. For ten years a measure of peace was maintained.

From the Founding of Pendor – the year 213

To the far north, across the seas lived the hearty warriors of the Vanskerry. Segmented into Jarldoms, they were raiders and traders. With the Baccus Empire gone, many of the Vanskerry mercenaries in their employ were free to return home to the frosty shores of their fathers. A wise man’s musings in the reaches of Vanskerry goes “Death is found in the blade of your enemy and trouble when a warrior has nothing to do.” When word came to the North of the troubles of Pendor, it was greeted with a call to arms and promises of plunder and women. Soon, raiding ships found the shores of Pendor a ripe land full of gold and wealth. Their well-armed and hearty warriors began raiding the towns and villages along the coast and met very little resistance. The Knights of the Lion and Lords of Sarleon responded by patrolling the coastal shores. Yet, still the crafty Vanskerry raiders managed to sack village after village. With so little ability to defend themselves, the merchant lords of the Pendorian coastal provinces sent delegations to the Jarldoms to seek alliances and protection. At first they were rejected, but in time as offers included titles and lands many Jarls and their huscarls began to listen.

The lands of Vanskerry are rugged and cold, compared with the lush and rich pastures of Pendor. The lure of good weather, and the chance to become a Lord of a castle, or even a well-located mayor of a village, appealed to many of the Jarls. Soon, many Vanskerry households left the shores of their fathers and sought fortune and prosperity along the coast of Pendor. Some entered into the service of the Pendorian lords, others married into the noble families. This changed many things in the Kingdom, as the warrior culture and attitudes of Vanskerry were brought into the noble houses of the coastal lords. Within a generation the culture gap was so great that the coastal nobles broke away from the King of Sarleon and formed a rough alliance of city-states called collectively the Fierdsvain.

From the Founding of Pendor – the years from 204 to 245

The story continued and detailed intrigues, war and heroic actions as well as the great villains of the land. There were stories of the Jatu tribesmen and their flight from the Empire and General Oasar, becoming nomads in the Eastern prairies of Pendor. There are the detailed accounts of the Order of the Lion, a knighthood order of Pendor, and their history and their betrayal by one of their own which had the order declared outlaw for years until their redemption under the current King of Sarleon. Chapters were dedicated to the D’Shar, a nomadic peoples who are evolving into a military and economic force only to find that their own worst enemy is themselves. Just as fascinating was the references to the encounters with the ancient Noldor and their powerful weapons and enchantments that changed the life of more than one adventurer. I was especially drawn to the story of Madigan, a wandering mystic who prophesized the coming of a hero who would unite the lords of the Pendor and reunite the old kingdom. His saga touched me as a hero himself, trying to speak the truth and being condemned to death for his beliefs.

I was startled out of my reading by the nurse telling me that visiting hours were over.

It was late, and I had spent most of the afternoon and early evening captured by the amazing story I held in my hands. I skipped quickly to the last pages and found them blank. I realized suddenly that the final chapters were missing.

I looked at Vance, who once again was awake, and watching me. Guessing my question and concern he said, “I do not have the answer to the last chapters. Those will have to be written. Perhaps when you write them, it will create those dimensions, those realities. I do not know for sure, but I suspect that is the case. I am too tired now to continue. That is why I asked you here today mate. Finish the story.”

He reached over and took my hand and gave it a hard squeeze. “I am tired mate and I have to sleep” he said in a half dreamy voice. It was the morphine I knew, finally giving him relief to the awful pain he must be feeling. I smiled at him and he shut his eyes and went to sleep.