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Kalon. Such a small word, to hold so much meaning. Haven, shelter, fortress, refuge. That's what the dwarves started calling this place when it was built. Later, the council decided to officially adopt Kalon as the name of the town we live in, and will probably end up as the capital of this region of Mithria. Mithria is the world here, you see. At least that's what the elves call it... and since we're all just refugees anyway, who are we to refuse?
Dwarves, you say, elves... what is this place, some children's fantasy? All I know for sure is that it's better than the nightmare we faced back home. Invaded by the Changelings, a race of world-hopping, magic-stealing, good-for-nothing shapeshifters. It was the Changelings who attacked our world, ravaged the kingdom, enslaved our people. Sometimes I think the only lucky ones are the dead. At least they don't have to remember what happened. At least they don't have to face the possibility of it happening again. We do. We know what they're capable of, and after this much time, they must be searching for us. Searching for the traitor. One of their own betrayed them... stole a magical staff of some sort that could open "gateways" between worlds. I imagine they're more than a little upset at that, because the staff was what brought them to our world in the first place. Sure, we have it now, but they built it, and they'll surely build another one, and then they'll find us... Eventually.
The Council says there's no way they can track us here, something about the gateway can only be seen by humans. For myself, I'm going to be ready for those bastards when they do finally discover us. Some of the elves here know how to use magic, and a handful are actually willing to teach it to us outlanders. Whispers I've heard - more power in the magic here than any of us have ever dreamed. I suppose that may be true for some, but I dream big... The folk here apparently know nothing of their own minds though... you can tell that by the blank looks you get when anyone mentions it.
Seraphus, King Taral's advisor, could do some amazing things with his mind. Really it was inevitable, when you think about it. The last sorcerer in our world died centuries ago, and none of us remember enough to tap that kind of power. So we had to tap into ourselves for our own mental powers. If only you could have seen Seraphus that black day! Changelings finally beseiged the castle, and he stood alone on the battlements, tall and proud, raining destruction down on the massed armies of the invaders. Some he set aflame with psychic fire, others he killed outright, by sheer will alone! It was a glorious sight, until one of their thrice-damned poison arrows took him in the throat. I felt sorry for the guards, when the invaders began to flow up over the walls like so much sinister jelly. I ran, though. Just a page boy, but I'd heard rumors of the gateway that supposedly led to a new world. I wanted no part of the Changelings, now that they had shown their true colors. Killing people and taking their shape, and then eating the dead, feeding off their life energy. Disgusting. Wasn't no damn shapeshifter going to do that to me... So, I fled. Better to flee somewhere and have a chance at life, than to stay here and be eaten.
The door was about a mile outside the castle, only luck got me past the Changelings. Luck and their stupidity, not checking for secret bolt-holes out of the palace. Anyway, after the doorway, I come out in the middle of the woods. Can't see ten feet in front of me, for all the trees. Never in all my life have I seen trees this thick. It was as well I couldn't see anyway, though, as I heard the faint echoing of music and raucus laughter. Only a tavern makes such racket, and only a human one at that, as I know now. Shock.
That was my first reaction to seeing all the pointy ears and long, flowing beards on the inhabitants. After I got past the challenge at the gate, that is. Well, after an interview with the Council, they decided to let me stay, so long as I promised to live by the laws they'd set down. Not nearly as strict as the King's laws, I thought, but the Council looked quite a bit more ready to enforce them. Especially that Krys chap, he seems a bit too eager to try his hand at law enforcement. At any rate, they let me in, and I started working nights as an assistant barkeep at the K'tura Malath Inn. Had to get a job somewheres - studying magic under Mistress Blaze isn't completely free, you know. Plus I knew quite a bit about the different ales of the kingdom, from all the long, drunken nights the castle guards seemed to enjoy so. So here I find myself, as a student mage, journeyman barkeep, and amateur historian, writing all this down so there'll be a record for those who come over after us. (Not to mention that I get a discount on all my writing supplies from the School.) At any rate, that's where I stand in the history of this place, just another exiled refugee, wanting to build a new life here in Mithria like so many others. If you get a chance, stop by the tavern - I'm always looking for new tales to add to the histories! Zim, the Enchanter