- For other articles with related titles, see The History of Barbarians.
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Through my own experiences, I have gained knowledge and insight into the barbarian race. Each part of this history tome can only be completed in its own time.
Listen to my tale! It is the story of brave men and strong women. I tell you the story of the barbarian people. WE are the sons and daughters of Mithaniel Marr, god of Valor, and Erollisi Marr, goddess of Love.
Our name struck fear into the hearts of those who came before us. They were weak while we were strong! Consider Barruk, who carried many times ten of the elves, who swing helpless from his arms as he strode with his mighty axe through their ranks!
They said we brought the Age of Blood - - and we did. The weaker trembled to see the children of the Northlands descend upon them. Though we are mighty of height, we can arrive unheard and unseen, until it was too late.
It was not any mortal that could stop us. No! Called they upon Solusek Ro, who needed to change the shape of the world. Even that did not stop us, but by then we had shown our might to the world and felt no need to go further.
And then, one night the Marr Twins came to Halas and walked around our fire. They kissed the foreheads of twelve sturdy lads and twelve hearty maidens, then sent them southwards with their blessing. From them came our cousins, the humans.
I am Nicholl Silverfrost of Clan MacNeacail, bard. Our family has ever served as bard for our Clan, for which the Marr Twins be praised! Our Clan is mighty, though not of Halas, which had been its fortune in the days of the Rallosians.
For, listen! While the familes of the barbarian Clans did their respective duties, Gren Silverfrost traveled from our village in Everfrost to sing in Halas and it was he who spied the first of the Orcish armies sent to the assault.
Gren sped forth, his anger lending wings to his heels. He saw the orcs burning other villages. He saw them feasting on the fallen. He reached Halas in time for the gates to be barred from within. To warn the villages, Gren and others as fleet of foot were sent out. Those who fled the villages closest to Halas went there. Those farther away removed to other strongholds. And the orcs marched onward, surrounding Halas.
Halas fell at the end of the long and bitter siege. The Rallosians celebrated by slaying the remaining clan chieftans and sending the womend and children into the wilds where there were hunted for sport. And yet, we still had hope.
Yes, many of our folk had fled into Halas and were slain. But the Clans from furthest strongholds arrived and gathered the wandering remnants of our bretheren, vowing vengeance. They made themselves secure in their hidden ancestral areas and waited.
We did not have long to wait. Within seasons, the Rallosian Army was defeated by a mysterious and deadly poison known as the Green Mist. We retook Halas and made a bonfire with our enemies? remains.
Was it retribution for all the bloodshed? No one knows. And yet, not long after the Rallosians were defeated, the lands began to groan and crack from deep within. Fires burned where there had been ice. Water flowed fast and deep where once it trickled. I speak of the Age of Cataclysms, where we saw in one generation the lands change from ice and snow to bogs that stank of decay.
Overnight, entire mountains would slide away, taking with them the houses at their feet. Then all would freeze again into impenetrable ice. As though the changes upon the surface of Norrath were not enough, Luclin shattered in the sky above. Rocks of all sizes fell from like rain, battering everything in their path. From what cover we could find, we watched as Halas fell. Ah, Halas! Rocks aflame topple the walls, crushing and burning our ancestral home. It took the terrible shattering of the moon to do what no army could ever hope to do ? take and keep Halas for its own.
Our world lay encased in a layer of ice that crept over the land. In the day, the ice retreated like an orc, but at night it pressed further and further, conquering all before it like a barbartian.Listen! I tell you of our journey southwards, our proud march to settle in a new home. The way may be perilous, but not for the sons and daughters of the north! Our steps filled with snow behind us while before us, we saw the world.