Hralgar's Story

I have roamed these planes for centuries, traveling as the storm, bringing tales on the wind to those who would listen.

I remember the vast forests. I remember the elven kingdom, Alcarenque, stretching as far as the eye could see, the great trees reaching the sky, listening to the news I brought.

I was young man, just recently come into my power, after the elves fell. I grew bored of the land, of watching the little people scurrying across the plains, their cities growing and shrinking. Sometimes armies marching, but little did I care. And why should I?

Stone born? Maybe, yes, they had tales to tell. The Dwarves of Ardith, far below here, traveling their long roads in the deep? They also had stories. And some would come, ask me questions about magic, the future. There was little good in those visions: destruction, chaos, blood!

The Dwarves stopped coming. They didn’t want to hear about the fall of their kingdom. I know not now whether that is yet to come, or has already been.

But the wizards of Drankor held the the promise of secrets beyond what even the strongest of my people knew, deep hidden magic unlocked by the arcanists and artificers of Drankor. So I was drawn to speak to them. Many would listen, though some knew not the way to hear, and others would just flee before the thunderstorm.

And then it is a blur.