History of Myth Drannor

Introduction

"Welcome to the greatest treasure-house in all the Realms. Oh and welcome to your deaths."

The great green wyrm Athauglas,
to The Company of the Gauntlet
Year of the Trembling Tree

The dragon who spoke those boastful words to a handful of trembling adventurers is dead now, its hoard gone to enrich the families and kin of The Company of the Gauntlet.They prevailed where few dared go, and retired rich.

 Athauglas was also wrong about the wealth of its treasure: this is the greatest treasure-house in all the Realms. Welcome to Myth Drannor, fabled in story and song, the fallen, ruined City of Beauty, where elves, dwarves, and men once dwelt together in happiness and power, amid beauty.

 Be assured (by Elminster the Sage, among many others) that this is indeed "The Great Treasure of Faerun: Especially if you're a wizard. Myth Drannor is legendary (even on other planes, and in other crystal spheres in far-flung wildspace) as a source of mighty magic. Although much of its riches have undoubtedly been lost down the long years since its ruin, much remains to be discovered!

 An adventurer who can convince drinkers in a tavern on the far-off Sword Coast or in The Shining South that he's walked the streets of Myth Drannor and lived is assured of the reputation of a hero.Young nobles of Waterdeep nearly fell over each other in the rush to swagger through Myth Drannor's ruins, to tell the ladies of it later-until they were torn apart or devoured within instants of their arrival,and the fad suddenly passed.

An adventurer who walks down the right streets of Myth Drannor can gain riches or magic enough to make his fortune, perhaps even to retire and found a dynasty of adventurers. Hurry: the rush for gold has begun, and every adventurer in Faerun dreams of Myth Drannor's riches. Welcome to the city where, as the dragon said, death and the greatest treasure known in the Realms both wait for you!

The High History of Myth Drannor

 Here is an overview of what I could glean of the long history of Myth Drannor from Elminster. Most elven elders know it (whether their pride will let them admit all of its details or not), and many bards know most of the tale. 

Beginnings

Myth Drannor is old-so old that no living being knows its beginnings. Originally it was an elven camp; a community of large, inhabited trees around clearwater drinking springs and pools. Later, it was an elven city-a place of needle-sharp spires of growing, hollowed-out wood, linked by slim, dangerous suspension spans that were either railless wooden arches or the even more precarious "running ropes".

This city grew in size and might with the elven communities of the western Dragonreach, over some two thousand years, until humans first came to the north shores of The Sea of Fallen Stars. At that time, the city was the seat of a kingdom of moon elves and wood elves  ruled by a moon elven royal family called the Irithyl. The city was known as Cormanthor, and when men reached it, they called it The Towers of Song for the music made there.

Coronal (king) among the folk of Cormanthor in those days was one Eltargrim, a once-mighty warrior who had grown wise and gentle in his old age. He fostered knowledge, craft, and mastery of magic in his city, and foresaw that men were a foe too numerous and relentlessly ambitious and adaptable for his people to defeat or keep out of their lands-so he sought out the greatest wizards and wood-lords (whom some called rangers and druids) among them, and invited them to dwell together with him in his kingdom. So that all strength might be gathered, that none be excluded and made enemies, and that the kingdom never become a prize to be fought over between elves and humans, Eltargrim invited the gnomes, the halflings, and even the dwarves to come to Cormanthor.

The Starym and other proud and powerful elven families were so angered at this that they rebelled and left the Elven Court, going west to the Thunder Peaks and beyond, but most Cormanthan elves welcomed their new neighbors. The city grew swiftly in size and might.

All of the peoples who came to it were accustomed to facing a common foe: the goblinkin, who bred like rabbits, and swept out of the Moonsea North every decade or so in vast hordes that swept south in a tide of brutal destruction, slaughtering or enslaving all in their path until they were driven aside or scattered by all the magic that could be mustered against them. Cormanthor offered for the first time a stronghold to shelter the weakest folk, where they could stand together-dwarf, elf, gnome,halfling, and man-shoulder to shoulder against the orc raiders.

It also gave the orcs a hated goal, something that must be smashed. They came down on the city in their thousands, and almost destroyed it: only the bravery of the human and dwarven stalwarts, fighting in the very streets of the invaded city, saved all from slaughter.

A sickened, horrified Eltargrim resolved that the blood of war would never come to the very streets of his city again. He sensed that the bold eagerness of human wizards could be mated to the sophisticated skill of elven mages, and produce something that might defend the city-a great work of magic that would surround and protect the city at all times.

For almost a dozen years the wizards experimented and then labored together, weaving spell upon spell, guided by hints and legends out the shadowy past of the elves of long· ago, creating something splendid
with a magical life of its own: a mythal.

Myth Drannor

When the mythal was laid, in the Year of Soaring Stars (261 DR), Cormanthor was renamed Myth Drannor, and its age of greatness truly began. Note that Elminster's claims to be variously" a little over" five hundred or six hundred years old ring a little hollow if he truly helped in the weaving of the mythal-but some quiet words from Laeral and Khelben Blackstaff lead me to believe that Elminster has from time to time fallen afoul of hostile magic and slept, or been imprisoned, while ages passed and heknew them not-so perhaps he counts only those years he's known, or perhaps he's something greater than an old, fussy wizard.

Men from the overcrowded lands of the Vilhan Reach came in numbers, seeking the riches of the Moonsea North (drawn by the obvious wealth and works in metals and gems of the dwarves who then held the Vast,or eastern shore of the Dragonreach).

Seeking to slow their destruction of the forest, Eltargrim invited them to Myth Drannor to trade and settle, and join in the growing greatness of The City of Might.

Over the decades and centuries that followed, Myth Drannor grew in beauty, happiness, and luxury to the greatest height known in all Faerun. The City of Bards, some called it, or the City of Song, or the City of Beauty.

Inventors and craftsmen were welcome in Myth Drannor as in all cities-but more than simply the makers of coins were revered. Bards, tellers-of-tales, artists, historians, alchemists, mages, and seekers after knowledge of all sorts were welcomed and encouraged. Songs of lasting fame began to come out of Myth Drannor, and its wizards grew in might to rival the great human kingdom of magic, Netheril. This rivalry several times spilled over into open war-magical skirmishes known as the. Crown against Scepter wars. (One of Myth Drannor's names was the City of Crowns, because many magical items crafted in the city took the form of crowns and diadems, whereas the sorcerers of Netheril tended to use scepters.)

Cloaked by the might of this magic, Myth Drannor easily destroyed horde after horde of orcs, and grew in fame and power. Its jewelers were matchless, and its musical instruments (made by elven artificers, notably the families Lharithlyn, Shraiee, and Tlanbourn) stood unsurpassed in all Faerun. Spectacles of dance and song, theatrical masques led by skilled bards, became frequent-and folk began to travel to Myth Drannor just to see these marvels.

Myth Drannor earned the name "the 'Towers of Beauty" among bards, and as the years passed and happiness reigned over all, the elves gave it the name "the City of Love" out of joy that the races of Faerun could live together in peace and contentment.

Yet the gods grow restless, and all things change under their hands. Greatness is always hurled down in the end. So it was with Myth Drannor, as with all great cities.

The Dusk

Myth Drannor reached its height in the Year of the Bloody Tusk (661 DR). At the end of that year the ancient Lord Eltargrim died, and there was great mourning. The Dusk had begun-all at once, evil human wizards who had come to the city (from what is now Thay) used magic to slay and work intrigues, and the goblinkin rose again to attack the wooded verges of Myth Drannor. The embattled city found it necessary to elect a Captain, or warleader, to direct its defenses against the constant forays of orcs and the emboldened trolls, bugbears, gnolls, and flind.

Not even the exact year of Myth Drannor's fall is remembered: too many perished to keep the Roll of Years straight in the fledgling Dales. Elminster was off adventuring on other planes, as were many of his young and hungry-for-glory fellow mages.

It is clear that over six hundred years ago, sometime after the Year of the Lost Lance (712), a power in the far north (possibly an evil human archmage, more probably a great flind or orc shaman) summoned yugoloths in numbers to aid them in an assault on the rich human lands of the Dragonreach.

Whatever befell, the greatest of the yugolaths, the nycaloths Aulmpiter, Gaulguth, and Malimshaer, broke free of the mastery of their summoner and by brutal means emptied the flind and orc holds of every last individual, whipping them into a great Army of Darkness that swept south like a destroying wind. In their thousands they perished, in headlong attack upon every monster of the Moonsea North-and still, driven by the merciless nycaloths, they swept on.

Captain of Myth Drannor in that time was one Fflar. He was a man of mighty valor and skill in battle, yet quiet-spoken, and seldom seen. When word came to him that a horde more terrible than any known before was slaughtering its way through the beast-men (ogres) of Thar, the Captain roused the city
to arms, and set a watchpost north of the city, at a place in the woods called Helmgrove (the exact location of that spot is now lost).

There the greatest warriors of the city gathered to await the coming of doom, in a company called the Shield of Myth Drannor. They did not wait long.

The Fall

The Army of Darkness came down upon them, and red war raged through the trees. In endless numbers the orcs, hobgoblins, and worse came, overwhelming even the most valiant warriors-until the Shield was no more, every warrior slain but a few who fled to bring warning.

South of Helmgrove there was a burned area of woods, the scar of a forest fire, where Myth Drannan mages were wont to hurl destructive spells in practice. At this Burnt Ridge many wizards of the city made their stand, and as the Army of Darkness advanced, fell magic struck them down in their hundreds.

Yet for every hundred who fell, another thousand still came on-and in the end the wizards, exhausted, fled the field, and the Army swept on.

Fflar had begun a hasty evacuation of the city, emptying it of those too weak too fight, or too brilliant to be risked. There was time only for each to snatch up what they could carry and run, ere the orcs and yugoloths were howling up against the last defenders of the city, the oldest warriors.

Fflar fought among them, wielding a great blade that burned with a blue fire in battle. Sages argue about the true name and powers of this magical sword, but strong and persistent legend holds that it lies in the city still, in Fflar's bony grasp, where he fell at last atop a mound of slain yugoloths; none of the dark army dared approach it.

The Army of Darkness lost thousands upon thousands that day-but they were still numerous enough to obliterate those few who held the city against them, and rampaged through its streets, burning, pilaging, looting, and slaying those too slow or stubborn to have fled.

Some of those loath to leave were archmages still bent upon their research-and when their towers were invaded, the magical explosions with which they defended themselves were fearsome, and their dying curses worse.

Yugoloths fled whimpering, some of their limbs turned to rubbery, slithering, uncontrollable things. Others shrieked ceaselessly, wracked by phantom pains that would not subside. Still others devoured what they could reach of their own bodies, howling in madness. Guardian golems and other fearsome sentinels tore orcs and yugoloths alike limb from limb-and more than one tower blew apart, raining down those who had invaded it in showers of gore. Much of the areas of widespread destruction seen in the ruins today were created in those terrible days when the last wizard-holds in the city were taken.

Yet in the end, Myth Drannor fell, and was ruined. What was left of the Army of Darkness broke up into small raiding bands, and hungrily pursued the fleeing folk of the city to the very coast of Sembia, hunting down and slaying many, ere the armsmen of the coastal cities scattered or drove back the raiders.

The few survivors from The City of Beauty brought tales of terror with them-and Myth Drannor was left empty, to grow its own haunted reputation with the passing years.

Only the elves who dwelt in the woods nearby dared venture near the shattered city. They rose up in arms to rid their forest home of the many wandering bands of orcs, flind, gnolls, and bugbears who had been part of the Army of Darkness-and for two summers hunted them relentlessly, until all the woods were cleansed. This work took all the magic they had, and most of their best warrior blood.

The Guardianship of the Elves

Having paid such a high blood price for reclaiming their land, the elves were not eager to welcome intruders who might bring danger anew-and as human and halfling brigands grew more numerous, the elves closed the woods to those not of their kin, and swallowed up Myth Drannor behind a cloak of elven magic-and the seeking points of elven arrows. Myth Drannor became lost to men, and its legends grew.

The Elven Court slowly grew strong again, and held its own as men pushed past, settling the Dales and then the Moonsea shores. Their numbers and ready-armed hold on the territory between the lawless northern wastes and the Elven Court woods (plus the emptying of orc holds that had created the Army of Darkness) ensured that so great a horde would never come south again-and never bring war to Myth Drannor.

So it was, and for many years none but elves were welcome in what had become known as the Woods of Cormanthyr. The elves kept Myth Drannor out of the hands of all but dragons seeking lairs (whom they deemed fitting guardians). The elves themselves stayed out of the ruins, holding them sacred to the memory of the time when the races dwelt together in peace-and beasts left behind by the Army, or who had been freed from the cages of collectors and experimenting wizards, or who had come to the ruins through no-longer-guarded gates from elsewhere, all made entry to the city deadly to the few bold adventurers who used magic to elude the elven guard and reach the city.

Their fates added to the fell reputation of the ruined city, and kept the treasure hunts few. It seemed that Myth Drannor would sleep forever cloaked in the forest, until a little over 100 winters ago, when the elves of the Elven Court decided that the human hold on the region, with the gathering evils in Zhentil Keep, Mulmaster, Vaasa, and Scardale, and the soaring population and hunger for wood (as a fuel and building material) of rich Sembia, made their own survival ultimately impossible-and The Flight of the Elves began.

The Retreat

In the Year of Moonfall (1344 DR), the High Council of wise and elder elves, who ruled the Elven Court, reached the fateful decision to abandon their woodland realm after over five hundred summers of deliberation-and began to empty their realm, sending their people to fabled Evermeet, the island realm and refuge of the elves.

The communities of the Tangletrees and Semberhome were emptied first, and the elves went quietly, using the ancient gates they knew to be in Myth Drannor to reach Ardeep forest (whose own moon elven folk had already taken ship west to Evermeet) and Undermountain beneath Waterdeep, where Mirt the Moneylender is now known to have quietly made his ships available by night, to let the elves slip quietly out of Faerun to Mintarn and other harbors off the Sword Coast, where the ships of Evermeet met them, and took them on to a new life, free of the aggressiveness of humankind.

Some few elves remained behind, both to hide many of the disappearances and to continue to guard the realm as the fleeing elves traveled. These included the wise and urbane elven ambassador to the Dragonreach courts, Luvon Greencloak, and war bands (such as the one led by Alok Silverspear) skilled in archery and forest fighting.

Some elves who loved Faerun too much to leave it still dwell in the Elvenwood (the forest from the Thunder Peaks eastward to the Dragonreach, once ruled by the Elven Court), or have taken gates (some of which are spoken of in the novel Elfshadow) to join the elven realm of Evereska, which is in need of warriors against the evils around it, and to help it hold its new colony in the Greycloak Hills.

Yet the cloak of elven might that so long kept the world away from fabled Myth Drannor is gone-and the world has begun to realize it. The Time of the Seizing is upon us, when the riches of Myth Drannor-gems and coins enough to buy several kingdoms, to be sure, but above all magic to rule all Faerun, were it all to fall into one hand skilled enough to wield it-will be taken from the slumbering ruins, and the face of Faerun will be changed forever.

 The Seizing

 The most daring (or desperate) adventurers have always hungered for the riches of Myth Drannor, and over the years, there has been no shortage of wealthy sponsors in Sembia, and evil mages in Zhentil Keep, Mulmaster, Calaunt, Westgate, and Thay-as well as lone wizards in keeps and towers all across Faerun-to goad or spur them on. Myth Drannor has been invaded again and again .. . and has dealt swift, cruel deaths to most visitors.

When the agents of the High Imperceptor succeeded in opening a gate in Myth Drannor, powerful folk all over the Dragonreach soon knew of it -and the race to seize the gold of Myth Drannor was on. Folk have come to call it "The Seizing;' as they wait to see what power-and new terror will come out of Myth Drannor.

These days, every hedge-wizard of the Inner Sea Realms, and every landless swordswinger seeking to carve out fortune and fame, seems to have a stab at Myth Drannor.

Almost every tenday, despite the avowed guardianship of the Knights of Myth Drannor, an adventuring band plunges into the ruins-most never to be seen again, although a lucky few have escaped with their lives, or even treasure: the Myth Drannan magic whispered of in all those legends does exist!

A partial list of those who have gone to Myth Drannor follows. Beginning in the
Year of the Worm, we know that the Company of the Black Buckler (a mercenary band usually found guarding caravans or the persons of rich merchants in Sembia) went in, at the behest of a mysterious ring of investors based in Selgaunt. They've not been seen since.

A bare tenday after the Bucklers rode into the woods, a nameless band of thieves and hireswords from Westgate landed at Yhaunn, and set out across country into the woods, followed shortly by a wizard-led band from Hillsfar. There is a strong possibility that these two groups encountered each other and fought (or one ambushed the other, with the same bloody results).

Then the floodgates opened, and Myth Drannor swallowed up these in quick succession: the Men of the Scarlet Scimitar (an able and sinister group of magic-laden adventurers from Calimshan); the Women of the Wind (an all-female adventuring group out of lmpiltur); the Blue Fist (a boisterous, fun-loving group of aging warriors, formerly of the Sword Coast and late of Westgate); the Company of the Purple Cloak (a large and well-appointed group of male warriors and female wizards who are widely-and, Elminster says, correctly-rumored in Saerloon, where they first appeared together, to be agents of the Cult of the Dragon); the Glass Goblet (a group of bored but well heeled younger sons of the Waterdhavian nobility); the Vengeful Blade (an evil, ruthless band of Thavian ex-slavers and renegades from Aglarond known for their successful tomb-thefts and brigand raids in lawless Ththyr-some of this group escaped Myth Drannor's perils, and told the world of the baatezu and other waiting dangers); and the Company of Cathlander (a band of seasoned adventurers named for its sponsor, a wizard of the Vilhan Reach).

More adventurers converge on Myth Drannor every today, and many have doubtless escaped this list.

 The Encircling Wood

The forest around Myth Drannor is a dim, eerie place of huge trees, tangled vines, and deep shade, studded with thickets of undergrowth wherever a forest giant has fallen, to admit sunlight to the forest floor.

The ground is damp. Many small springs rise in the area, running across the rocky, root-strewn forest floor in little rills, to join the plentiful streams. In all cases, the water is cold, clear, and safe to drink. The forest life is abundant, and the trees around Myth Drannor are mainly oak, maple, blueleaf, duskwood, shadowtop, silverbark, and weirwood . The land rises and falls in small hillocks and moss-cloaked rocky outcrops, and this, plus the deep gloom, limits vision to 90' or less in most places.