When I was a young, I lived on a small farm northwest of Kersey on the edge of the Grey Forest. We didn't have a lot but my parents were always content and happy. Then came the great war. A huge army of trolls landed on the eastern shores of Drakor. Thousands of ships with black sails. No one could stop them as they marched westward, killing and destroying everything in their path. After Kersey was sacked and burned to the ground they began marching northwest on their way to Poi. Our farm was directly in their path.

Call it luck. Call it fate. Maybe a little of both. I was away that day, chopping wood deep in the heart of the Grey Forest. When I returned I found my that our farm had been burnt to the ground. The trolls where approaching the the Great White Lake on their way to Poi when they were met out in the desert near the Antechamber by an army of the four races that out- numbered them 100 to 1.

When the word had spread across Drakor detailing the evil deeds and intentions of the trolls, four great armies formed, then united as one. The elves came out of their forests in Trehos and Isildian bring thousands of legendary bows and true flight arrows. The Goblins came up from the marshes of Danof and from the shores of Adara Lake (And other places only known by goblins.) Down from the steep slopes and mighty rushing rivers of the Ferer Mountains came the Dwarves who had forged and hammered many fine weapons. The humans came from the Gallion Plains and out of the Burning Waste Lands north and west from the Port of Drimly.

The Battle itself took less than a day. After the battle was over there were thousands and thousands of dead trolls laying out in the hot burning desert sands. Their bones lay buried in the drifting sands of a vast and empty desert. They call that area the Graveyard of Foes. The trolls that didn't get killed that day fled in terror to the north into the wildernesses of the Barrier Mountains. There are hidden bands of trolls living here and there in the land of Drakor to this very day. In the mountains and forests. Deep in their dungeons, they live their miserable lives and plan their evil deeds.

That was the last time the four races where united as one single force with one great purpose.

Kersey is still a pile of rubble. A ghostly reminder of a dark violent history. A favorite place where the Sages practice the art of ancient research searching for secrets found in crumbling ancient ruins. All the water evaporated from the Great White Lake. Now it's only a a bed of large white flat stones. Huge dust storms blow across the barren wastelands on the eastern edge of the Grey Forest. Black smoke billows into the sky from the heights of Withering Peak. The great tower is surrounded by lava pools and layers of volcanic ash.

The city of Drimley was built near the port and has became a place of trading and commerce between the races. Goblin Industries was born as lands were cleared and sold to the guilds. Goblin Industries made and sold materials that built the settlements. Great guild halls and tradeskill buildings came into existence almost overnight. These lands where rich with resources. Located here are the guild nodes that provide continuous amounts of materials to the guilds.

Mostly a loner, I have become a great and feared combatant. My heart still burns with hatred for the trolls. Every time I see one, every time I smell one, I ignite into great rage of pure hate, thinking about the unsolicited violence that changed my life forever. My spirit cries out for revenge. Someday the trolls still living in Drakor will become extinct. I will make sure of that, I promise.

That is my pledge.