The Mage Wars

The Reappearance
Hundreds, maybe even thousands of years after the citadel had been erected and mages disappeared from the face of the world, and magic had once again been forgotten, a poor tinker, traveling the passes between towns, happened to pass in front of the citadel and found it quite open.

Time and what would happen next have subsequently destroyed many of the records we have of this time, so we do not know exactly when this happened or what the events that led up to it and after were, beyond what is now related around camp fires.

But as the story would go the tinker, being the fine upstanding business man that he was decided to take his chances and go in - to see if perhaps anyone needed a pot mended or wanted a new cloak or some sweets. For these were the times where the magic users had faded from legend, to myth, to bed time stories.

The tinker entered, and did in fact sell many things, and left with tales of wonder. Great glass sculptures, rocks that seemed to flow like magma but produced no heat. Globes of lights that shone brighter than any candle! Strange beasts flying through the air, some even carrying men! Great beasts striding the land pulling great burdens behind them. And perhaps most amazing of all: the sheer number of people there. There were thousands, tens of thousands, maybe more, from all ages, young to old. Small children playing beneath bright trees, old men meditating beneath trees as old as they.

The tinker was shown all of this with no reservation, allowed to drink it all in. Before he left, he was given a message. A message to spread to all. It was a very strange message, one that the tinker did not fully comprehend, but it was simple, and with his pockets greatly weighed down with money and riches more than he could imagine, he figured it posed little harm in spreading it.

The message was 3 words, 3 simple words. 3 words full of more portent and danger than that poor old tinker could ever imagine. "We have returned."

The tinker continued on with his journey, and went to the next town, full of tales of wonder.

The Tinker's Tale
Late that night, in the village inn, he regaled them with his tale of wonder. Of course, nobody believed him, but they thanked him just the same for his tale, for it was delightful and entertaining to a town that often went weeks or months without hearing news of the outside world. Clapping him on the back or maybe buying him another drink, the villages soon began to disperse. But, before they all could leave, true to his word, the tinker shared the message he had been charged. "We have returned," he told them all. But like the rest of the tale, they dismissed it.

The tinker went to bed, the village went to sleep, and things went on as they did.

The next morning the tinker woke up. Something was off, he couldn't quite place it, but the air felt wrong. Dismissing it as a hangover (for he had been up quite late and quite drunk the night before) he went about his business. He gathered his belongings, went down and at breakfast, and then left the village with his cart of goods.

Several days passed and he made it to the next village. He repeated his tale, gave the message, was subsequently ignored, and once again, fell asleep, drunk from the ale provided by the delighted villagers.

The Storm
When he awoke the next morning, a terrible storm set upon the village - seemingly from nowhere. Rain poured down in great sheets and gales of winds knocked over buckets, and wagons, and even trees. The storm would continue through the day and into the night without letting up. Fearful to sleep, the villagers kept together in the great central hall of the village tavern, clutched together in terror.

This would continue for 3 days.

On the dawn of the 4th day, the storm broke as suddenly as it appeared. With its breaking a man appeared on the edges of the village, staggering slowly - yet relentlessly towards the tavern.

Realization struck everyone at almost the same time - this man had been out in the storm! Quickly they went to him offering help, yet he ignored them all, his journey relentless as he made his way to the village green. A corridor of people seen formed around him, people standing frightened as he passed between them.

Upon reaching the green, he collapsed to his knees, and then seemed to sink upon himself and went quiet. Fearfully the villagers approached him, trying to see what was wrong. And then, without warning, his body went rigid, his head thrown back, the force of his motion so great that it pulled him up off his knees, and without a great shriek he cried out in an unearthly voice "We have returned!" and then collapsed dead, an awful rictus upon his face.

Immediately the tinker was brought forth and the questions began. Questions rained in from all sides, terrifying the tinker. But, before anything could come of it, the village mayor stood forth and raised his hands, calling for quiet. While the villagers calmed down, the tinker turned to look, and by chance, he recognized the man as the innkeeper from the town he had stayed not 2 weeks earlier. Dumbfounded he stood mute as the mayor turned to him. But before the mayor could ask him anything, the tinker simply said that he knew this man, and related how he recognized him as being the innkeeper from the town he had just passed through.

Silence was the only response as everyone pondered this latest revelation.

Now, tinkers, you must understand hold a certain amount of esteem in society. They bring news to towns far away from the bustling capital cities. They repair and mend broken pots and pans. They sell bright colored cloth to women who want to make something pretty for a loved one or a child, and they bring joy to the children in the form of sweets, so nobody suspected this tinker as being anything but whom he was. So it was that they took what he said as the unerring truth

Immediately it was decided that somone (or many someones) should go and investigate the other town, to perhaps learn more of what had happened or what this message meant. Several volunteers immediately stepped forward, and within a few minutes they had gathered belongings and set out with due haste.

The Discovery
For 1 week the village waited, one, painful, agonizing week, before the scouting party returned. To the last man, every volunteer had a drawn, gaunt look to them, as if they had seen something that had been forever inscribed upon their soul - never to be washed away.

Ignoring all questions they went to the mayor, and spoke to him at length for many hours while everyone waited in dread, or anticipation, or both.

Slightly before sunset, when everything was golden, the mayor called everyone out to the village green, and related what had been found. The facts were simple. The next town over no longer existed. There was simply a crater where the town had been, as if a great hand had reached out from the sky and scooped it up and cast it asunder. But that was not the worst of it. A few hours out of town, the bodies had been found, lined up neatly in a row, cruicified, each with a hand pointing towards town, as if leading any who chose to go and see, and upon the brow of each were the words "We have returned." Women, children, men, even animals. The same horror had been bestowed. No mercy had been spared. Each face was caught open in a scream, the horror plain upon their faces. It is unknown to this day if they were dead or alive when they were staked up on the crosses.

Silence befell the villagers, they were all too stunned to know how to react. But before they could respond a great cloud suddenly appeared over their village. The cloud began first in the center of the town, growing larger and larger until it spread out and covered the entire village.

And then the screams began

First Blood
This pattern would continue, town after town would be consumed by a great black cloud, it's villagers would be killed and hanged in a macabre fashion, inviting people to look, to see, to fear, those who had returned.

This pattern would continue for a year. By that point word had spread and those in the small outlying villages began fleeing for their lives. Wave upon wave of refugees would stream out of the forrests and passes into the capital cities. Camps were hastily errected to give those people a place to live.

Councils were gathered, wars were forgetten, as the great and mighty countries of the world abandoned petty squabbles over lands and rights and united to meet this threat.

After much discussion and consultation of what few records remained it was agreed that this threat could be from no other than the mages long since forgotten, mages wielding powers greater than any now alive could possibly imagine.

The Battle is Joined
A mighty army was soon raised to combat this thought. Legions upon legions spread out across the land to fight. Soon great battles were raised, there were some successes, a few minor skirmishes here and there that would be won by the forces of those lacking skills in magic, but by and large it was a slaughter, and after many years of this continued fighting many began to fear for life as they knew it.

During this time, many great advances were created and conceived to fight against magic. As is their habit, man attempts to mimic that which is more powerful than he is in an attempt to control it. Alchemists would create chemical compounds never before heard of were created. Mighty powders capable of exploding and destroying rock. Weapons that could fire arrows and spears great distances. And while these would help, they largely delayed the inevitable.

It was the discovery of a blacksmith that would turn the tide.