Amir: A-MEER
Arbirox: ARE-,BEE-ROCKS
Banuer: BAA-'NOO-ER
Barlinscorda: BAR-LEEN-'SCORDA
Daslidrün: DASS-LEE-'DROON
Efelja: EFF-'EL-YAW
Éuwild: EEUH-WEELT
Fríxmar: FRICKS-MAWR
fürið: FOOR-EETH
Glanmìd: GLAN-MEED
Hadimi: HA-DEEMIH
Hâraborra: HYAWR-A-'BOERRAW
Hârocald: HYAWR-AWK-AWLT
Hüikuld: HYOOM-'IHKULT
Ilga: EELLGAWIlga
Illa: EELLAW
Insimrôda: EEN-,SIM-'RAWDA
Krïsmeð: KRAISS-MEHTH
Kjolþa: KYOL-'THA
Kläskir: KLAY-SKEER
Krallüwild: KRAH-'LOO-'WEELT
Larsrün: LAHRSS-ROON
Lotnirgrím: LOT-,NEER-'GRIM
Mansavafæ: MAHN-SAVA-'FEE
Marokk: MARRAWKK
Moldoþ: MOL-'DOTH
Mrarsvi: MRAWR-SVIH
Myar: MEE-'ARE
Nglárm: ING-'GLARM
Omarda: O-'MAR-DAW
Ordi: OR-DIH
Ôtti: AW-TTIH
Roknar Insimra: ROCKNAWR EEN-'SEEM-RAW
Rügni: ROOG-NIH
Scarðürin: SCAR-THOO-'REEN
Sliva: SLEEVA
Slivisonna: SLEEV-'IH-SONNAW
Tlangrimi: TLAHN-'GREEMIH
Tnalfjæ: T-NAL-,FYEE
Vangræ: VAN-'GREE
Vsnôkràkir: V-SNOW-'KRA-KEER
Yndrasvin: EEN-'DRASS-VEEN
Ysgall: EESS-'GAHLL
Yvásmitr: EEVAWSS-'MEETER

Genesis of the Hellstones

Hideing away from Moldoþ away from Hüikuld, aways from the mainland, on the island of Hadimi, in the middle of the Roknar Insimra, rested the new abode of Kjolþa.

The imps made boats, beautiful ones. Kläskir made plans, Illa wove the faerie threads of power through them, Ordi put them together, and Ysgall made them live.

Protection on such a lonely island was no problem. The dragons stayed, as well as the wyverns. The fürið brothers and their mother did stay, but the young males would grow restless at times and fly off for a while. It was those two that broaght much news to the small band.

Kjolþa had made a pact with Deap Scourge, better known as Insimrôda Red Tide. Her diplomacy and smooth words won over the behemoth water monster, and had gained her fair band the allegience of the Vsnôkràkir, the merfolk.

She had abondoned the orange anklets and bangles she was forced to wear under the leadership of Nglárm. They had been replaced with an orange shoulder collar that held seven coloured stones, each one spade shaped.

Those stones were the Hâraborra: the Hellstones. These stones would become the soarce of legends worldwide.

Mined by the merfolk below, crafted by the four imps, and enchanted by herself and six other Yndrasvin. Each individual Hellstone held the power of the seven hells. Lotnirgrím of the Wild Hell, enchanted by herself, it pertained the powers of the restless earth and raging winds, as well as every feared beast in existance. Glanmìd of the Water Hell, enchanted by Omarda, it held the dismall apathy of the savage abyss, and all its mysteries. Scarðürin of the Poisonous Hell, enchanted by Efelja, it held the merciless venom of the Damned, and the relentless power of curruption and greed. Mansavafæ of the Frozen Hell, enchanted by Daslidrün, it's power imitated the cold powers of ice and all it's spite, backed up by petty jealousy and vanity. Fríxmar of the Thunder Hell, enchanted by Marokk, it spat and sparkled with the raw fury of thunder and explointed knowledge. Barlinscorda of the Fiery Hell, enchanted by Rügni, burned with the heated rage of fire and destruction. The last one, Tnalfjæ of the Dark Hell, the master Hellstone, enchanted by Arbirox, contained all the concentrated fear and pain of every creature in existance.

Alone, the stones were but mere objects of power. Together, under the bonding power of Tnalfjæ, they were so much more. It was these stones she used to protect her stand and allies. Only her, and another Yndrasvin could weild the power of the Hellstones without having to pay the price.

On a day when the light hours were waning, the darkness was waxing, Larsrün and the younger Vangræ took flight over Insimra. They were headed to the main land, but this time, for more of a purpose then ever.

Kjolþa had said to them that she wanted to get back onto the mainland, along with all her fallowers, so they went out to find a good place by the coast to start up.

Larsrün lead the way, his brother fallowing behind. The great water below reflected the dusk overhead, and the wild waves were but static bumps, like the bark on a transparent tree trunk. They knew, that below those waves, so tiny and weak to them, flyers and masters of lighting, was the ruthless and mighty Insimrôda, and the Vsnôkrákir.

In those days, way back in the Classical Era of solid good and evil, black and white, the merfolk were still a member of the Krallüwild. It would not be untill the dawn of the New Era, that they would be considered otherwise.

The glistening waves dissapeared beneath them as they flew over emerging land, a carpet of green trees and shrubs at first, then it all started to get rocky as they approached the mountains.

"Larsrün!" Vangræ called to him. "Slow down! We should take a look at the shore lines first!"

"We've looked at the shore lines enough from previous flights!" The elder spoke. "Besides, there's nothing but fishing villages, no true threat at any rate!"

Vangræ didn't argue. He had seen the docks for himself. Only armed with simple spears, they were prepared just to protect their fishing ships from merfolk that wandered to close to their hooks.

It was amazing, the time it took to fly over land. With no stones, trees, rivers, wild beasts, or any other obstical in their way, the fûrið passed the region that bordered the sea, and were flying further inland. They did not notice how far they had flown untill Vrangæ noticed something by the sheltering trees.

"Look over their Larsrün!" He motioned with his head, carefull not to throw of his in-flight balance.

Even though he was in front of him, Larsrün understood what he was getting at. The flashy glimmering of tampered metal was in the corner of his eye. Tilting for a sharp turn, him and his brother aimed for the top-most of the taller trees. The two landed on the boaghs of conifer, staring down at the scene below them.

Lined up in neat rows were metal birds of such advanced design, that only the faeries knew of how to tame them, and create them. The artificial hydes of such creations shone under what waning light was left. So reflective, they were, that it was hard to tell what colour they really were. All of them stood still at attention, and bellow them, where little faeries, so much like the imps: brownies.

Small like the imps, the brownies were, but they did not have wings, nor horns. Their faces were slighter, less rounded, and they had a tuft of fur on the tips of their tails. They wore robes of colours that were hard to make out in the changing light. There were armed brownies, unarmed brownies, elder brownies, brownie children (also known as scouts, like imp children), flankers holding babies, brownies with huge bags and luggage being pulled behind them. As the brothers looked on, the brownies loaded their cargo onto the birds, then got into them themselves. When one metal bird had been filled with brownies and cargo, it would lift itself off the ground, with lights of great intensity glowing on their underside.

Vangræ was dumbfounded at the scene. "What's happening?"

"The brownies," Started Larsrün, sharing his deeper knowledge of the faeries, "are leaving. All of them. Blitzers, flankers and scouts, the lot of them."

"Where would they go?"

"North, from the looks of it. Far north."

"You mean, to the Unknown Swamp."

"Further."

"Further? There's more?"

Larsrün shook his head doubtfully. "I do not know. But I have heard of stories of a great city far off north in unknown lands. The imps called it Nov Nodin, the Fortess of the Sun. Probably, not unlike Slivisonna, the Fortess of the Moon."

"But, Slivisonna is here." Vangræ whined. "Why would they want to leave it?"

"Who knows what the faeries think."

"Well, they wouldn't be gone long, right? Someone could take over Slivisonna."

Larsrün looked again at the great many cargo they were taking along with them. "I don't think they're concerned about it."

A flanker with a smaller child saw the brillient plumage of the fürið admist the foliage of the pine. The brownies, althogh considered Éuwild, did not run from the sight of Krallüwild.

She addressed her child. "Look at the tree." The flanker pointed at the tree where the brothers perched. "Can you see them?"

The young faerie didn't appear to notice at first, but jumped up and down with excitement when it did. "Fooriss!"

"This is a very special time for you." The Mother began again. "You may never see a fürið again." The brothers looked on as that same flanker led her young scout to one of the birds.

It was unknown to them. Though, they were only two of the very few witnesses to the Great Brownie Emigration. Never again would brownies make Idraffi their perminent home after that.

"We should go now." Larsrün started. "Our best flying time is now, no one will be out with their arrows."

Vangræ was not convinced. "But where are the brownies going?"

"That is not our concern!"

"Well, it is mine!" As the arrogent young flyer he was, Vangræ took off after one of the metal birds that had just taken flight. The brownies gasped in awe as they saw the winged dragon cat take off.

Larsrün took off after him. "Vangræ!" He called to the young fürið. "Get back here!"

Vangræ did not heed his brother's words. Keeping his wings stretched in flight, he rashly flew after the curious reflective bird that had just taken off, its underside glowing within its flight. Unfortunatly, he had greatly misjudged the bird, and his own capabilites. The metal contraption was much faster, Vangræ worked his wings faster then he had ever done, unaware that he was straining his delicate young muscles.

The metal bird kept making distance between them, and it wasn't long before the bird was out of sight, a shadow in the darkness. Vangræ felt the strain on his shoulders, but it was too late to slow down for a landing. Both wings gave out from weariness, and he fell to the forest in a free fall.

Larsrün saw his brother fall, but they were so high up, it was next to impossible to tell where he fell. Instead, he flew above the pines, calling out the name of is younger sibling.

Vangræ, dizzy and stunned from the fall, but not with one bone broken or out of place, stumbled to his feet wearily, only to be met by the angry, disgruntled visage of a troll. A long mane of hair dangled down past its shoulders, all matted with mud and leaves, its huge fists were clenched by its bulbous belly. It grunted and snarled as it stomped the ground, intimidating the already terrified fürið. Instincively, Vangræ spread out his colourful wings in his own show of intimidation. The bluff was no use, the troll was still much bigger, and not at all pleased that its territory had been invaded.

Backing up as the hooved beast advanced slowly, Vangræ flapped his wings to take off, but they were still weak and sore. He opened his mouth wide, showing off his fangs. From the back of his throat shot out small sparks of electricity. He shot the troll with one bolt of lightning. Too bad the troll's hyde was so thick, and Vangræ was still so young, the bolt didn't even make the huge brute wince. Unamused, the troll threw the small dragon cat aside with one mighty sweep of its meaty arm. The fürið fell unconcious from hitting the trunk of a tree. Sensing he would be no further trouble, the troll sat down on the grass, taking a great handfull of shrub leaves and shoving them into its mouth.

The keen sight he posessed allowed Larsrün to see the faint glimmer of blue electricity within the thick of the woods below. He swooped downwards, under the cover of the trees. The night vision of his species saw the unconcious form of his brother, and the huge form of a troll snacking on bush leaves. Perching on a high branch above, he saw that the troll was very big, much bigger then he was, and flying wasn't a good option in such close confines. Trying to fight it off would have been a bad idea for him, and any chance to save Vangræ. Larsrün would wait for the troll to leave for new feeding grounds, no matter how long it took.

Very little firewood could be salvaged on Hadimi, thankfully, there were plenty of dry leaves and grasses. A fire pit was dug in a dusty clearing, and a fire was made with the dry kindling. Several tents of animal skins were set up around it. Dragons and wyverns lay beside the small camp, looking up at the skies. Around the fire sat the rider's company of Amir, Krïsmeð, and Tlangrimi, along with Mrarsvi, Myar, and swaddling a large egg, Flitfan. They were in good spirits, feeling relieved about getting back to the mainland. Cooking up a wild goose over the fire were the women who had accompanied them. The children sat before the imps as they regailed their tales of faerie wonders and old faerie myths. Sitting a ways away was the every silent Ilga, her cloak of wolf skins wrapped tightly around her as she looked over the joyous congregation.

Kjolþa sat in front of the biggest tent, looking solemn at her fallowers, contemplating her next move. Beside her was Yvásmitr, awaiting for her sons to come back.

With her third eye, the demon saw the rush of a huge hand at her face. The vision left her in the flash it had come in, but all at once, she knew what it meant.

"Yvásmitr," she started, shaking the feathery shoulder of the fürið, "there's a problem. Come." Fallowing the dark angel as she got up, Kjolþa led them both away from the camp with little suspicion from the rest.

Once out of earshot, Kjolþa addressed the fürið. "Yvásmitr, I'm afraid something has happened to Vangræ."

As expected, Yvásmitr was shocked at the news indeed. "And Larsrün?"

"Larsrün is fine. But Vangræ has been grounded, chased a metal bird too far."

"That silly kitten." Scoled the mother. "He should have known better then to fly after a strange thing."

"And he most likely will never do that again. But we have to go fly after them. I see a band of wood elves heading their way, and I'm not so sure if Larsrün can handle them all and protect his brother at the same time." Spreading her awsome black wings, Kjolþa took to the air. Yvásmitr fallowed her into the night sky.

One by one, the stars came out to shine, Sliva came to replace Ôtti in the night sky. Kjolþa flew over the tall forest pines, with Yvásmitr fallowing close behind. The succubus was a flyer meant for durability, not speed, and it took much of Yvásmitr's will power not to go further then her, especially since it was Kjolþa who knew where to find her kittens.

As she scanned the forest below with all three of her eyes, she stopped in mid air at a frightning sight heading their way "BANUER! BANUER!" She shouted as a massive, winged shadow appeared underneath the rising moon.

The vast, black wind came much too fast for the two to adiquitely get out of its way. Yvásmitr even saw the face of the behemoth starspawn as it flew past them, ignorent of their presence.

Violently, they were thrown to the ground in a vicious torrent of wind. Thrown against the forest trees as many were uprooted from the hurricane winds of Banuer's flapping wings. Then, she was off, flying onto infinity.

From under the fallen trunks of trees and scattered debris of forest floor, Kjolþa hauled herself up, her monsterous strength had protected her from the deadly blows of the trees.

Damn that Banuer! Cursed she indwardly, feeling a surge of proud anger gnawing at her gut. It was no use harbouring it, Banuer was out of sight, gone off to its infinate knew flight. But Yvásmitr would need her help more.

Intentively, she called out to the fürið. Looking over the vast clearing of fallen trunks, scattered leaves, and dusty rubble, there was no reply. Calling her name again, when recieving no reply once more, Kjolþa began to cross the open ground, not really intent on just why Banuer had gotten so close to the ground in the first place. The more she called Yvásmitr's name with no reply, the more tense she got, upping her pace along the ruined landscape, jumping over overturned logs.

After much jumping and stumbling, she saw the tips of a feathered wing jutting out from under a couple of pine trunks.

Kjolþa looked over in startled horror. "YVÁSMITR!" Hurridly, she ran towards her, lifting up the trunks to reveal a broken and bloody fürið. Yvásmitr was dead.

Looking down at her sorrowfully, Kjolþa couldn't take the thought that she just lost the loyal fürið, only to rot in Hârocald for the rest of eternity.

In anger, she turned back to the horizon behind her. Banuer! Her pride simmered rapidly in her soul, her claws snapped in an aggressive fashion. No one dies on my watch! Feeling the collar and the Hellstones they held, she flew off after the starspawn with a raging heart.

For her great build, Banuer was fast, but not in any sort of rush, Kjolþa met her as she was flying over the Roknar. Heading south west, the demon predicted she would eventually fly over Hadimi. How low she would be was hard to say, her flight level was unsteady, constantly ascending and descending at various intervals. Kjolþa made the first move with Scarðürin, a sickly green web covered the body of Banuer, but it was a vain attempt. The webbing dried at the speed she was traveling, and harmlessly corroded off of her fur. Kjolþa used that very same Hâraborra to turn invisible. With great effort, she managed to cling to the gigantic digging claws that served as the starspawn's only leg. Infuriated, she plowed her sabre fangs into the calloused shell, cringeing when she felt the pain of an unsuccessful jab tinging her upper gums. The shell had proved to be tougher then her fangs, so she began hacking at them with her claws. They made scratch marks, but the shell was built stronger then dragon scales. Taking a hold of Fríxmar, she summoned forth a horrendous deluge of lightning. The storm was so great, that there were people on the shores that could see the bolts.

The storm raged for several minutes. But when the electrical vail lifted, Banuer was still unscathed, behaving as if nothing happened.

Carefully placing the stone back in it's place, the angel began to scale the mighty beast, scrapeing the impenitrable shell of the digging appendages and grabbing ahold of her fur. Crossing her hairy back was like walking across a clearing of tall grass. The flap of Banuer's wings were volcanic eruptions in her ears, the further Kjolþa got along her back, the more furious the din became. Picking up Scarðürin again, she stick the sharp end of it in the starspawn's flesh, keeping ahold of the top half as not to loose it.

Unfortunatly, the hyde of Banuer was soft, but thick. The prick wound oozed with venom, but was not able to seep any further into her body because of that. All the while, Banuer noticed nothing, just continued her coarse.

Increasingly enraged by her callous attituded, Kjolþa placed Scarðürin on her collar in temporary defeat. Upon her breast, Barlinscorda lit up with fiery power, calling forward a great cage of flames around Banuer. This time, she did notice what was happening, but flew through the fire, not recieving a single burn from the endevour

Kjolþa threw a tantrum in irritation. Is there nothing that can harm this monster? "SLOW DOWN YOU STUPID BEAST!!" She yelled at the height of her lungs.

Banuer heard her just faintly. Startled by the strange order, she did more then slow down, she stopped entirely. Her break spead was fantastic, and at the velocity she was traveling, the inertia was strong enough to send Kjolþa careening off her back, past her ear. Briefly, she saw the expression written all over the starspawn's eyes as she was sent falling to the sea. They looked worried.

Note: All the sources of this epic mention the Great Emmigration. At the time, all the brownies abondoned Slivisonna, a masterpiece of architecture then and now. It would be another two and a half centuries before the imps claimed it. Brownies have returned periodically to Idraffi from time to time, and some have even made perminent homes, but there was never to be any mass colonization such as at Slivisonna.

Only the Triplet's Gurþrungarbirox tell of this confrontation with Banuer, and with detail unheard of in the other writings of the time worldwide. It lead many to believe the epic poem a hoax, but carbon dating proved those theories wrong.