Navigation
Telandron Arena
Return To Main Page

Background
Character Creation
FAQs
Playing Guide
Rules

Arcana
Arms
Bestiary
Chronology
Economics
Factions
Geography
History
Nations
Races
Religion

Telandron's Awards
Roleplayer Of The Month

Top 25 D&D Sites

None at present

Dlabraddath
Dragon's Art
Gorblimey: Art by Socar Myles

It came to pass that on the Irigarn continent, the central of the four of Telandron, one man rose from the sandy plains of the west. The warriors of his homeland were disciplined fighters, well used to fighting in formation, whose favoured weapons were spear and shield combined. The man’s name was Jared Numerion, the last of a long line of famed warriors in the west. He overcame several other local leaders, but instead of putting the fighting men serving under them to the sword, as was the custom, he offered them a choice: they could follow him or they could die. Numerion was a charismatic orator, and he won most of his former opponents over with cunning speeches, saying he would “build a new empire to rival those of the Golden Ages”.

Soon he had a sizeable following of his fighters, who he named legionaries, all of who would follow his orders without question. Numerion marched out onto the sandy plains and subdued all the nomadic tribes and once again killed all those would not follow him. His following grew, until his army contained many nomadic footmen and archers to back up his more reliable core of spearmen.

Once Jared Numerion had his army, he advanced into what is modern-day Kaylon. At that time the Kaylonic Empire was split into roughly twlelve pieces, each ruled over by a baron. Many were in open conflict with each other in the hope of expanding their borders and thereby gain more income for their baronies. Many did not even recognise that Numerion and his relatively small army was a threat to them; at least three of them had armies half as big again. But they had reckoned without Numerion’s diplomatic skills. Twice when faced by armies larger than his own he had defused the situation by giving speeches, and his opponents returned to their realms under Numerion’s colours.

At last, when Numerion had conquered over a quarter of their lands, the barons decided to act. They joined together their military forces to create an army more than twice the size of Jared Numerion’s, even after the defection of some of the barons’ forces. Surely there was no hope for the would-be conqueror? But, unknown to the others, the most powerful of the barons, a man named Orrien, recorded in history as The Treacherous, had had secret talks with the invader Numerion.

Numerion’s forces faced the combined might of four barons across a large plain. Despite there being no sign of Orrien’s forces, he was greatly outnumbered, and worse, his troops were almost all infantry, facing a combination of cavalry, infantry and even some crude war machines. Numerion had to attack; or he would be cut down by the ranks of archers and crossbowmen facing him. It is recorded that his legionaries performed great feats of bravery and of military skill on that day, but still he was close to being overwhelmed. His nomadic tribesmen had fled the field, and the rings of the legions around Numerion and his battle standard, a burning fist, were growing smaller and smaller.

But suddenly there were strange trumpets being sounded on the field. The barons’ forces turned to be confronted by lines and lines of heavy cavalry, with lances and heavy spears dropped for the inevitable contact. The impact was great, and the cavalry was replaced by deep formations of implacable swordsmen and halberdiers. Seeing their enemies reeling, the legions struck with renewed fervour.

A few hours later, the barons’ forces were almost totally annihilated, and at dusk Numerion and Orrien met once again. There they struck a treaty, roughly splitting the lands of the barons between the two of them. Jared Numerion had his empire, and had conquered it in a matter of twenty months; a remarkable feat.

Numerion renamed his legions the Fists of the Emperor, after their insignia. He proclaimed himself Emperor of all the lands he had conquered. In the end his empire, named in later days by scholars the Western Empire, stood for about six centuries, seeing the rule of nine emperors. It could be said somewhat unkindly that each was more incompetent than the last, with a couple of exceptions.

Jared Numerion’s son, Alwyn, was probably the greatest Emperor of the Western Empire. Under his rule the infrastructure of the country improved greatly. Thal Kol, the capital of the Empire, grew to become one of the largest trading cities in the world and the nation prospered. However, following him the descendants of Numerion grew gradually worse in character. Eventually the eighth and last Emperor led all his military might into the Northern mountains on a suicidal attack on the Dwarf fortress of Darigor. In response the dwarves simply holed themselves up in the mountains, occasionally ambushing the freezing cold, starving legions who had been allowed to slump into bad condition over the centuries. Eventually the two sides met in pitched battle and the Fists of the Emperor were destroyed almost to a man.

Sensing weakness at last, the nomadic tribes of the Empire attacked the capital directly, and were barely driven off. Then repeated attacks came from Kaylon, and the Empire collapsed.