Altairnia
07-08-2004, 10:02
Of the Hellenic Kingdom of Altairnia, and it's founding.
Altairnia, historicly speaking, is an accident. The island itself was, at some point in time, situated roughly between the southern tips of what used to be called Greece and Italy. During that time, the large island was fairly barren, and considered a place of legend. Mariners told tales of the enchanted isle shrouded in fog, which evolved into the story of Atlantis. The truth turned out to be much more stranger then the legends that surround it.
The decendants of the original inhabitants of Altairnia still reside there today, and they are decidedly not human. In the shadowy forest glades that sit in the foothills of the nothern wall of the Shield Mountains a thriving elvish community has stood for thousands of years. The trees of that region have long grown thick and tall, and have long sheltered the elves from the sun. Other peculiarities pick these elves out from their cousins; namely their elongated ears and slightly bluish complexion. Aside from this, they remain as tall and immortal as the other Avari in the world.
It was these elves that first taught the human settlers of arcanite, a very rare ore that, when added to steel or bronze, makes it nearly indestructible. Thanks to more modern techniques arcanite is more easily dreged up from the earth then when it was first discovered, and it can be synthesized in small quantites at great expense. However, overall cost has kept the ore from being too widespread, usually limiting it to use in personal arms and armour.
Humanity arrived on the island entirely by accident. The original humans were shipwrecked Greek merchants, who's ship ran aground during a storm. But the merchants survived, and were later rescued. One amongst them, Dionisus Altairnus, returned and built a small port and lighthouse on the island in the river mouth that sat on the southern coast. Many hundreds eventually migrated to the island, a few years after a city'd been built around the port that a Roman war fleet, bound for Greece, made landing. They thought they'd reached their destination, and it certainly seemed like it judging by all the greeks about. But that army never reached Greece, for not long after they'd disembarked the most unusal thing happened.
The universe happened to discontinue in the traditional, linear sense.
History seemed to forget Altairnia, and everyone on it. The island vanished without a trace. Nearly twenty thousand greeks and romans were erased from existance in their world because of the bizzare paradox. But they didn't die out. As far as they could tell, nothing happened. But as to their history from that point, nothing is clear. Many records were lost during the State War, when the two principle city-states, Calilphi that sat not far from the western bank of the Swift, and Morrain that sat near the eastern branch of the Shield Mountains. What is known is that mankind flourished, and eventually those two great cities were founded. It was inevitible that war would come, but when the bloodshed reached it's height, a single man (said to be a decendant of Altairnus himself) from the noth of the island decided to end the conflict. He gathered every man and boy who wanted to see an end to the war from a full dozen villages, and promised them the deliverence they craved. Both sides were forcing every peasent into the army, and none wanted to fight this pointless war any longer. Nine years had seen too many lives wasted. The lone man had a plan, and for two weeks he left the assembled host camped at the foothills of the mountains, in the eves of the forest. Fifteen days after his departure, he rode out of the mountains at the head of a massive host of night elves. They had seen the destruction that the humans had wrought on the land, and feared it spreading to their homes in the trees. The trade that had sprung up between them had dwindled, and the bargin struck promised a return to the old days in exchange for help. The host split in two, and besiged both cities at once. Both of the city Proconsuls were given the same ultimatum; unite under one banner, or be destroyed utterly and forever. After each lord saw that his forces were overmatched, they wisely accepted. The Kingdom, as it was, had been founded.
Altairnia, historicly speaking, is an accident. The island itself was, at some point in time, situated roughly between the southern tips of what used to be called Greece and Italy. During that time, the large island was fairly barren, and considered a place of legend. Mariners told tales of the enchanted isle shrouded in fog, which evolved into the story of Atlantis. The truth turned out to be much more stranger then the legends that surround it.
The decendants of the original inhabitants of Altairnia still reside there today, and they are decidedly not human. In the shadowy forest glades that sit in the foothills of the nothern wall of the Shield Mountains a thriving elvish community has stood for thousands of years. The trees of that region have long grown thick and tall, and have long sheltered the elves from the sun. Other peculiarities pick these elves out from their cousins; namely their elongated ears and slightly bluish complexion. Aside from this, they remain as tall and immortal as the other Avari in the world.
It was these elves that first taught the human settlers of arcanite, a very rare ore that, when added to steel or bronze, makes it nearly indestructible. Thanks to more modern techniques arcanite is more easily dreged up from the earth then when it was first discovered, and it can be synthesized in small quantites at great expense. However, overall cost has kept the ore from being too widespread, usually limiting it to use in personal arms and armour.
Humanity arrived on the island entirely by accident. The original humans were shipwrecked Greek merchants, who's ship ran aground during a storm. But the merchants survived, and were later rescued. One amongst them, Dionisus Altairnus, returned and built a small port and lighthouse on the island in the river mouth that sat on the southern coast. Many hundreds eventually migrated to the island, a few years after a city'd been built around the port that a Roman war fleet, bound for Greece, made landing. They thought they'd reached their destination, and it certainly seemed like it judging by all the greeks about. But that army never reached Greece, for not long after they'd disembarked the most unusal thing happened.
The universe happened to discontinue in the traditional, linear sense.
History seemed to forget Altairnia, and everyone on it. The island vanished without a trace. Nearly twenty thousand greeks and romans were erased from existance in their world because of the bizzare paradox. But they didn't die out. As far as they could tell, nothing happened. But as to their history from that point, nothing is clear. Many records were lost during the State War, when the two principle city-states, Calilphi that sat not far from the western bank of the Swift, and Morrain that sat near the eastern branch of the Shield Mountains. What is known is that mankind flourished, and eventually those two great cities were founded. It was inevitible that war would come, but when the bloodshed reached it's height, a single man (said to be a decendant of Altairnus himself) from the noth of the island decided to end the conflict. He gathered every man and boy who wanted to see an end to the war from a full dozen villages, and promised them the deliverence they craved. Both sides were forcing every peasent into the army, and none wanted to fight this pointless war any longer. Nine years had seen too many lives wasted. The lone man had a plan, and for two weeks he left the assembled host camped at the foothills of the mountains, in the eves of the forest. Fifteen days after his departure, he rode out of the mountains at the head of a massive host of night elves. They had seen the destruction that the humans had wrought on the land, and feared it spreading to their homes in the trees. The trade that had sprung up between them had dwindled, and the bargin struck promised a return to the old days in exchange for help. The host split in two, and besiged both cities at once. Both of the city Proconsuls were given the same ultimatum; unite under one banner, or be destroyed utterly and forever. After each lord saw that his forces were overmatched, they wisely accepted. The Kingdom, as it was, had been founded.