Centuries ago in a far eastern land, lived a little known, and little seen, well uh….little people you might say. They called themselves Halflings. Also known as river folk. Many believe this stunted race developed from men and some horrible magic has cursed this particular race. Others believe they simply adapted to become shorter so they weren’t easier to spot by dragons….Either way, means no difference…that is for another story…

Originally from the eastern shores of Alura, they were nomadic at first. Traveling from location to location, never settling in. Consisting of various clans and groups, they were hardly unified in any type of decision. They kept pushing westward, all the way to the great river. The land was fertile and green. The game was plenty and the fishing was splendid. And best of all, NO ONE was here. They unanimously decided, this utopia was to be their home. They built a modest city, for none among the Halflings were great masons or carpenters. They did not posses great warriors or even great magicians. What they did posses were great farmers. They loved the land and nature. They enjoyed simple pleasures, like the afternoon breeze off the still river. The rustling of trees or the singing of birds. They spent most of their history being ignored by the world and they much liked it that way. But things always change…

Shortly after the Great Sundering, the war of elves and men, goblins and trolls ran rampart throughout the middle of Alura. With the Elves now receding, none now stand to protect the Halfling borders. The Goblins attacked Halfling settlements up and down the Great River, killing everyone and burning anything. The Halflings did what they could, a feeble attempt against battle hardened infantry, and large trolls. Like lambs to the slaughter, as it were.

They pleaded help from the Kingdoms of Men, but they merely turned and looked the other way. They were alone, so utterly alone. They fled their homes and hid in small groups, in exile in their own lands!

Their peace and tranquility was destroyed, and they were filled with a rage, an unquenchable thirst for revenge. They were too small to accomplish much, but they vowed their resolve. They waited and watched, waited and watch for years, biding their time, and preparing for a strike. They honed their sword skills, and heightened their archery. They were determined to fight a hit and run war. They were going to make these invaders pay for every step they took in their Mother-Land! Their battle cries can be heard echoing across the forests just before their quick and deadly strike. “For Harper’s Hill!” “For The Great River!” they rang out.

The Goblins have now met resistance, and it will not go quietly into the night. They will pull them all down, even if they hung onto the clouds with their fingertips.

Discovered by Lore Master Jornii