100 Years Ago

The alpine air stung of rotting corpse and fresh dirt. Alder huffed the acrid stench from his scaly nostrils and heaved a boulder down the rubble-covered slope to the collapsed city below.

Civil uprising killed the thriving Dwarven city of Dorrak just days ago. The festive streets teeming with merchants, builders, and crafters from all races now laid buried under feet of rubble. Gurn's rebels took the men, but the landslide was sudden and left over half of the population crushed or buried alive. Those fortunate to be rescued now faced relocation into the western human territories.

Alder, the High Scholar and liaison of the Sylvani dragon clan, led the rescue and relocation effort after Gurn's defeat. But even with help from all five races, plans were still being finalized.

"Oi! Alder!" A gruff voice called from above.

Alder craned his serpentine neck from the cave as his two comrades descended to the ledge atop Senkar, a red-and-russet Kiithran and long-time friend of Alder's.

"Glad to see you all made it here safely!" Alder said as he approached the trio, lowering his mottled green head in greeting.

"Safely my ass!" The stocky Nord's knuckles were gray from clinging to Senkar's feathered mane, and his snow-white hair a mass of poof atop his wide head. "Do you know how bad the winds are up here?" He patted his forehead, swearing that the fright added more wrinkles to his already prominent and deeply-lined brow.

"No, not at all," Alder mused, ruffling his membranous wings that were barely large enough to glide. "But I didn't think that could rattle you, Dom."

Dom grumbled obscenities and scrambled to dislodge himself from between Senkar's neck and his much taller Talian riding partner.

Celetaer, the fair and slender Tal, chuckled at Dom's disarray. His short flailing legs reminding him of a squirming child which only matched the grown Nord's temperment, "Not sure if it was just the heights, or because his feet couldn't reach the stirrups."

"Which, by the way, I am never wearing again," Senkar commented most adamantly, "They are far too wide and chafe my underwings." Despite their elk-like build, Kiithran rarely took well to being ridden like beasts of burden.

"Well, excuse me for attempting not to fall." Celetaer chided, maneuvering Dom's leg around Senkar's neck and causing him to drop to the ground with a heavy thud.

"Where's Nimbaba?" asked Alder, helping Dom to his feet.

"Still tending the Medic Tent. Should we wait for her?"

"No, I can meet with her later." Alder's bright eyes turned grim as he returned to the cave. "We must discuss this now before you depart home."

A solemn wave washed over the trio and an exchange of tense glances ended their humorous interlude. Senkar lent an arching horn for Celetaer to dismount, the whoosh of his blue-and-silver Talian silk cloak breaking the silence.

Alder led them into the crumbling remains of Dorgan's Keep. As they passed through the once grand hall entrance, all eyes locked onto the scar above the outer archway left by Gurn's fatal blow.

"It's like it's mocking us." Senkar hushed.

Celetaer forced his eyes forward and Dom wrinkled his sunken nose and spat at the shattered stone.

Past the excavated entryway there was less damage. The ceiling and statues lining the walls took the brunt of the cave in. Dwarven architecture--especially the vast halls which spread miles beneath mountain ranges--was well known for its stability and intricate carvings. Dorgan's Keep was no exception.

"Aye, this isn't so bad!" Dom chimed, analyzing a pillar. "Still pretty sturdy."

"Tell that to the bodies we pulled from here," Celetaer said low, climbing over ceiling fragments. "We still don't know if we got them all."

Ahead of them, Alder's throat glowed as he sent a burst of flames into the shadows, igniting a pile of broken, wooden furniture. Light spread through the dim hall, revealing a bloodstained floor strewn with gold-trimmed dining ware, encrusted goblets, and bits of torn clothing. Senkar clutched his stomach as the smell hit him; the herbivorous race rarely took well to the smell of blood.

"They must have gathered here for shelter." Celetaer examined the belongings huddled by statue remnants and paused. "Dom," he tossed a bundle of fabric to the stiff Nord, "Look familiar?"

"Oh, Erd have mercy!" Dom's voice cracked as he stared down at a torn, Nordic doll, his lavender eyes misting over.

Of all alliances, the Nords and Dwarves were closest. They shared skills, culture, and even some physical traits were similar. It was commonplace for members to visit each other's realms for trade and festivities; even Dom had taken up the fashion of beard jewelry.

Dom turned to Alder and Senkar, gulping at the knot in his throat. His mouth gaped but no words came. Just a soft whine was managed.

"The feeling is mutual, my friend," Alder took a solemn seat at a broken, stone table. "Come. There is much to decide and little daylight. How go the relocations?"

Dom took his seat by Alder, followed by Senkar and Celetaer.

"Steady, but most don't have many possessions left to move. Most are choosing to stay in Falorn, though I worry about how they'll handle the winters."

"Make sure to provide extra clothes and bedding, then. They don't have extra fur."

"Aye."

"Now, you said most. What of the others, then?"

"Those who've never visited Falorn are being sent to Dairos in the human kingdom," said Celetaer.

Alder bristled, "You're sending them there? Whatever for?"

"It is the closet city available. And the current construction provides ample housing. Unless, of course, there is room in Heartwood?"

Alder's scowl remained, but he let him continue.

"Most of the refuges are women and children who, let's face it, don't take up as much living space. Additionally, they have agreed to serve in shops in exchange for living quarters."

"But how they will be treated?" asked Dom. "The human kingdom is expanding. No doubt their priority is to their own. Won't the added refuges make them a bit...territorial?" He passed a quick glance around the chamber. "This cannot be repeatd."

"We'll need to ensure any authorities uphold fair treatment." Senkar said.

"Humans are easily bribed," said Dom. "And easily angered. I doubt everyone will remain friendly."

The alliance between Humans and Nords was stressed at best. The trade of produce and mana stones for seafood and frosthoof meat was the thread holding it together. Even then, human expansion northward and increasing racial intolerance threatened to severe that thread. Dom, himself, fell victim to slurs, jeers, and occasional violence while visiting certain human towns.

Alder set his amber eyes on Celetaer. "It would be better if you kept eyes on them, given your better relations. If the humans listen to anything, it's people who give them pretty things."

Celetaer nodded with a wry grin, "Are dragons really any different?"

A short chuckle escaped his jaws, giving the others a start. "Don't get me mixed up with those Montari dragons, now! Sylvani don't roll over that easily."

"Now, last but of most importance," Alder rose, plucked a small, wooden box from a crag in the wall, and flicked it open. Inside, five palm-sized crystals radiated red, green, and purple light. "What do we do with these?"