Long, long ago…

...Before the second moon rose out of the sea and the elves returned to the land, dragons held the world in thrall. The land was brown and burnt, and the air stank of sulphur. All peoples lived in fear, for dragons crossed the skies all day long, and at any time one might swoop down to devour an entire village. Heroes rose up to destroy the dragons, but to smite even one bespoke godlike power (that is why the tales of Menyal Twindragon live on even yet).

Then out of the ashes of a western village rose a young man. He traveled over all the land, gathering shards of dragon bone and scale; he delved into the underlands of the dwarves, and gathered from them bits of unknown ores. And finally, having known the dragons’ dread magics and been left unscathed, he wove together all he had gathered and forged the Fellhammer.

No dragon could stand long before the might of Hrothgar Fellhammer, though he was singed and scarred. After many years, a last few dragons remained, and Hrothgar sought them out. Seven at once, they attacked him. His right arm was lost, but Hrothgar slew them all, each one. And so he became the One-Armed King; he built his castle in the west, and all of Bel’yrn was united under him. For 500 years, there was peace.

There were two, each claiming to be rightful heirs to the throne—sons of sons of the son of Hrothgar. None live now who remember their names. They plunged all of Bel’yrn into civil war, their armies converging on Hrothgar’s castle. One of the two took up the Fellhammer, seeking to destroy his brother; and when steel of Hrothgar’s hand touched flesh of Hrothgar’s blood in malice, there was a great flash. The earth was cracked, the sky was split, and lightning ravaged the western lands for a hundred years. None in the west were ever heard from again.

When the lightning subsided, the western lands were revealed to be a red wasteland. No explorer of the Crimson Wastes has ever returned, save one—and he, raving mad, could speak only of lightning storms and sandworms.

A thousand years have passed since that time; the elves returned, and the second moon rose out of the sea. A king arose on the eastern shores, but he was unable to unite all the provinces. Some believe peace will come again, that the Bel’yrn-that-was will be restored; that a son of Hrothgar will someday rise again: a man fierce and terrible, yet warm and comforting, like a western wind.