The History of Dar Armandil
As remembered and humbly recorded by a faithful
observer
By
and
Master
of the
Grand Order of the Noble Council
A Rough Passage
The
history of the settlement at Dar Armandil began as soon as the passengers set
foot upon the rickety wood of the Gosportia, a human-built merchant ship
that had seen her better days. Among those 175 human and Elven souls, was my
father, the honorable and much esteemed bow maker, Ederill Clemonphil.
My father, and
those he sailed with, were setting out from the Elven homelands for lands to
the west. Here, it was said that an adventurous soul would find new territory
in which to make his or her mark on history. Yes, there were rumors of
barbarian hordes, Dark Elves, even talk of a crazy old wizard living in the
mountains who liked to do unspeakable experiments on the Dwarven folk. Despite
these rumors, or maybe because of them, Ederill Clemonphil and others set about
making arrangements to travel there and explore this land.
It should be said
here that the seventy-five other Elves traveling with Clemonphil were not
leaving the homeland because of political or other differences. Rather, it was
a sense of adventure that drove them to seek passage to the strange and
challenging lands to the west. Clemonphil, as was the case with most of the
others, had just reached the age of 115 – only slightly beyond the age of
maturity, and as he expressed to me, “Was ready to make his own way.”
Unfortunately,
for Clemonphil and his companions, the journey was not to be as planned. The
problems began when the party was unable to raise enough money for the passage.
Many Elven ship captains were unwilling to sail to the new lands without
receiving a vast payment in advance. So, it fell to the young adventurers to
seek out human companions to help fund the adventure. After having recruited
nearly a hundred humans to join them, they found, once again, that they still were
far short of the monies need for the passage.
And so, it came
to pass that the Gosportia was their only hope. It should be noted that
the grand ship, in her glory days, was a fine specimen of sea-going transport.
Built originally to serve as a fighting vessel, she was made of the finest
Elven oak, and had enough space to accommodate more than two hundred souls. She
had three solid masts, and could raise enough sail to race the wind itself.
However, by the
time Clemonphil and his companions laid eyes on her, those days were long past.
She was crewed by a captain and men who shared a somewhat dubious, even
downright scandalous, nature, and was not well taken care of. Her sails were
dark and torn in places, and the once-fine oak was worm-eaten and weak. The
captain, a human man named Darius, was more than happy to provide passage – as
long as the travelers agreed to help crew the ship and otherwise work for their
passage. Thus, the Gosportia became both a means of transport and a
prison for those who sailed on her ...
By the accounts
of Clemonphil, given to me before his death, the passage was an ominous one.
For each ship the Gosportia encountered, the vessel must have appeared
as some ghostly portent of doom as she swept down on them and left nothing but
death and broken wood in her wake. Clemonphil and his companions, human and
Elf, were thus forced into a pact of piracy, or else their own lives would be
forfeit. A history of which no Elf, dead or alive, takes any pride in having
been a part.
But, as in all
things, Darius, his scandalous crew, and the evil Gosportia, eventually
met her doom. With the mainland in sight, an wicked storm bore down on the ship.
Howling winds and enormous waves made sailing all but impossible. Clemonphil,
having tied himself to the main mast so as to survive, watched with his own
eyes as members of the crew were swept from the wheel or jumped overboard to
escape the falling timbers and rigging. During this exodus of the pirate rats
from the apparently sinking ship, Darius regained some composure and took the
wheel himself. His plan of action seemed clear enough: an island just off the
port bow and about two miles away might offer some shelter from the maelstrom.
But it did not
happen that way … Wave after wave slammed into the ship, each sending a
bone-crunching shudder through the old vessel. The foremast, once as tall and
strong as the finest oak, shattered and fell off to starboard, leaving only an
old stump where it once stood. Rigging, blocks and tackled rained from the two
remaining masts as lines and sails were torn away from the wind. Finally, less
than a half mile from the island’s shelter, a final wave crashed over the
starboard rail and, like watery hand, pulled the vessel into the dark, churning
depths.
The Founding of Dar Armandil
Had fortune not
smiled on the passengers of the doomed ship, the history of Dar Armandil would
never have been written. As it happened, though, many did survive. Over the
next two days, they washed up on the shores of the mysterious island like
creatures being tossed from the sea. Men and women, Elves and humans, they
gathered together to ponder their new fate. For almost a month, this gathering
of about one hundred huddled near the beach, building signal fires and talking
of rescue. Surely someone would notice the Gosportia failure to return.
Surely someone would come searching for their lost sons and daughters.
Eventually, their dreamy reasoning turned to desperation and then, to
determination.
The determination
grew from a couple, and Elven man and a human girl, who had formed an
attachment in the homeland and during the passage. This Elf, Armandil, and his
lover, the daughter of Captain Darius, named Dari. Soon, they gathered a band
of trusted friends around them. Among them, Clemonphil, and other Elves with
the family names Palantir, Aldarion, Calafalas, Calmcail, Felagund, Icarus, and
Eidhwen. Together they joined with humans from the families of Blackheart,
Hawk, Quicksilver, Nobarth, Eidelforth, and Ambler. This unlikely collection
soon set forth into the thickets and mountains of the island to found a colony
determined to survive.
On the surface,
this effort sounds much simpler than it was. The Elves, naturally, being drawn
to the shelter of the vast forest present on the island, and the humans being
drawn to the easily defensible terrain of the mountains.
Defense became an
issue because the party had discovered some signs of previously organized life
on the island, through some abandoned ruins and such, but never ventured far
enough into the wilderness to determine what had happened to those lost people.
But, with this potential threat in mind, the party eventually compromised and
settled on a place in the mountains that provided spectacular views of – and
easy access to -- the forest below. Here the settlement was founded and, in a
spectacular ceremony, named in honor of the couple who had been determined to
survive: Dar Armandil.
The Glorious Beginning
In soon became
obvious to the hundred survivors that future generations would depend on the
decisions made in those early days. Thus, most of the humans and Elves soon
found life companions among the survivors of the opposite groups. Humans, it
was reasoned, would soon die off if they remained apart from the Elves, and as
it was, many an Elven man or woman found themselves marrying more than once as
their human companions died. Even so, there were some humans and Elves who
chose to remain “pure” to their race – a decision that often had disastrous
consequences.
That aside, the
settlement of Dar Armandil soon advanced very well. A wall sprang up around the
village, which over the course of centuries, became a city. Docks were
eventually built near the spot where the survivors had once gathered in hope of
rescue, and this was soon populated by fishing boats and eventually trading
vessels.
The first few
centuries of the settlement were known to the inhabitants as the Glorious Days:
a period of peace and growth among the inhabitants. They were ruled in the
beginning, and by mutual agreement among the original founders, by the happy
and benevolent Dari and her husband Armandil. Dari, of course, only lived
for the first sixty years of the settlement, and a statue of her, depicting the
furiously determined young woman on the beach and pointing toward the
mountains, adorns the central square of the modern city.
In this sense,
the Glorious Days for Armandil, an Elf, did not last nearly long enough, but he
set about building a settlement that would have made his human wife proud.
Soon, he gathered around him the faithful families that would help him for
almost seven hundred years. The names of Palantir, Aldarion, Calafalas,
Calmcail, Felagund, Eidhwen, Clemonphil, Blackheart, Hawk, Quicksilver,
Nobarth, Eidelforth, Nizziro, and Ambler are all tied to this period as noble
leaders of the people and their interests. Each of those families worked hard
to establish a settlement of business, trade, and prosperity, and each built
grand houses on lands given to them by Armandil.
Of course, not
all families were as prosperous as those few, but the benevolent attitudes of
the ruler and his nobles ensured that all in the settlement were happy an
provided for in a manner better than any in the homeland had enjoyed. In this
sense, Dar Armandil had become a utopian society where everyone was like
family.
The Civil War
Like all
families, however, there were some malcontents on Dar Armandil, and they got an
opportunity much too soon. In the year 710 AF (after the founding), King
Armandil died without heir. Though a sad moment in the history, the passing was
not considered that monumental among the nobles. For the people of Dar
Armandil, a mostly half-elven community with a few human and Elf newcomers, the
ruling of the settlement had always been left up to the committee of nobles
mentioned previously. Though Armandil had worn the crown and been treated as
king, most decisions were reached my a democratic majority among the nobles.
For most on that council, choosing a new leader was simply a matter of a vote.
One man, however,
didn’t see it that way. His name was Altaris Felagund, the son of the founder
Felagund, and representative of one of the few remaining pureblood Elven
families. He reasoned that the island community, now grown rich and prosperous,
needed the leadership of one who was pure of heart and mind. He recruited
like-minded and hateful families who had sheltered themselves from the humans
and half-elves, and soon took Dar Armandil by force. Supported by greedy magic
users and mercenary Dark Elves, Altaris Felagund soon had possession of the castle
and had driven many of the nobles into hiding. Many families were hunted down
and exterminated. The honorable Quicksilver, Nobarth, Eidelforth and Aldarion
families were rounded up and publicly executed in a most horrific manner – all
to serve as a warning to those who opposed Felagund.
For the next
three hundred years, this terrible existence plagued the land, now renamed
Felagund in honor of its tyrannical king. So it came to pass that by the 1000th
year after the founding, Dar Armandil – Felagund to some, was a wreck of
civilization. Trade had plummeted, disease and death walked the land, and
people lived a miserable existence.
In this dark and
dreary existence, however, the spark of resistance survived. Out of the
wilderness of the island, an army emerged. Led by Hawk Damforth, nephew of the
founder Tiberius Hawk. He was surrounded by his captain, the noble sons and
daughters of the founders, Eidhwen, Clemonphil, Palantir, Calafalas, Calmcail,
Blackheart, Hawk, Eidelforth, Nizziro, and Ambler. Together with their sons,
daughters, nephews, nieces, and cousins, and partnered with the pirate families
that were once aligned with the likes of Darius and his daughter Queen Dari,
this army marched to the ramparts of Dar Armandil and freed the people from the
tyranny of Falagund and his evil lieutenants.
Epilogue -- The Peace Restored
Soon after
the battle ended, the surviving nobles elected Hawk Damforth as king of Dar Armandil.
Though young, only 220 at the time freedom was won, he set about restoring the
glory of Dar Armandil. In less than 100 years, the people and the economy had
settled into an existence reminiscent of the previous Glorious Days.
The battle that
freed Dar Armandil from its Dark Days happened more than 500 years ago. I was
barely over the age of majority then, but a willing participant in the battle.
There were sad losses on our side, and a few of the seats of the Noble Council
remain unfilled. Our king, Hawk Damforth lies peacefully in his grave,
and the Noble Council, of which I am Master, has yet to choose a successor. I
am not fearful of this, however, as the remaining members of the Noble Council
are honorable men.
However, there
are some grandsons of the Founders, namely those of Eidhwen, Nizziro, Palantir,
Calafalas, and Blackheart, who have yet to take up their seats at the Council
table. All of these nobles – yet to reach the age of majority are unable to
cast a vote until their 110th birth anniversary, but each is allowed to take
part in the discussions. Disgruntled with their inability to vote, they have
taken up with the pirate family of Darius to seek adventure, as boys will do.
That is why I
write this history and dispatch it to them. I fear it will not be long before I
join the kings and nobles who have gone before me, so to those young,
adventurous boys – as well as the people of Dar Armandil – I leave this
message:
Your country is
nearing her 1500th anniversary. She has known Glorious and Dark Days. She needs
your nerve, your determination, and your sword if she is to survive in Glory
for another 1500 years. Do not fail her, as she has not failed you. Remember
the spirit of her founders and the spirit of those who freed her from tyranny.
Serve her with the same honor.
Your Faithful Servant,