The Doctrines of War

[Divine Intervention]

The Doctrines of War
Scribed by Battle-Chaplain Brand Varanus

Book One: The Origins of War

In the beginning, before man walked the lands of Aber-Toril there was darkness.   From darkness sprung light, a light reviled by the powers which had dwelt in shadow.  From loathing sprung war, a war the likes of which has yet to be seen again.  So great were the titanic clashes of power in battle that the Gods of war were born, from the ashes of ruin and conflict sprung the masters of all battle.  Yet in their hearts they knew that they could not all hold dominion over sacred battle.  The Gods of war looked to each other and they knew that only one might rule and the others must fall for victory to be complete.  

Whilst the clashes of darkness and light abated these Gods of battle continued their furious struggle, a conflict spanning hundreds of years.  Yet one by one the false Gods fell, unworthy of this sacred domain which they fought to master.  Some few remained and one stood taller than all others, Tempus, the Foehammer.  His might was unparralled and his skill incomparable, against him even the greatest warriors fell.  With honour and courage he carved his way towards becoming the supreme Overgod of War.  

After centuries of ceaseless battle, only one stood between the Foehammer and his crowning glory.  The Bloodreaver, Garagos the mad, an elemental force of destruction and insanity, and so it came to pass that these two mightiest of warlords met atop the highest peaks of the furthest reaches of Toril.  The clash was long and bloody with both sustaining many wounds, endless blows they did rain upon each other, the furious insanity of Garagos lending a savage strength to his blows.  Yet for all his power the Bloodreaver could not triumph, his reliance on fury and rage was his folly for which he paid.  Each slip of his guard was rewarded with a slash from the axe of Tempus, each blow slid away by the skill of the Foehammer.  It was with one such mistake that the Blood God finally sealed his doom, a great blow he thought to strike against Tempus, yet in his anger he left himself exposed.  With a mighty swing the Foehammer cleaved into his chest, a wound which even he could not withstand.  As the Blood God fell into the snows of the peak the Foehammer let loose a mighty cry, a shout which reverberated throughout the lands.  Those first people who dwelt on the earth and seas did hear his victory and knew with certainty that the Overgod of War had arisen.  

In time pilgrims went in search of the Foehammer to seek his teachings and instruction.  They travelled from far and wide to the high peak where the Foehammer had made his home, a mighty fortress of stone carved from the mountain.  With stern approval the God of War accepted these worthy people into the fortress and there he did instruct them in the arts of war.  He taught them to be honourable, skillfull and courageous on the field of battle.  He taught them the secret ways of weapons and forging and when they had learned all that he might teach them, he named them his disciples.  

Many years after the arrival of the first disciples he spoke to them all as one and set upon their shoulders a momentous task.  He bade them travel far and wide, to each of the kingdoms of men and spread the words and teachings that they had learned.  "Go forth my disciples and teach the unenlightened of my faith, spread the arts of war and shirk not the duty which you should fulfill".  And so it was that the disciples left the fortress of Tempus and went among the races of man to elighten them.  The peoples of the world they returned to had already learned of war, but it was a savage and dishonourable way in which they waged war upon one another.  With stern remonstrance the disciples did tell these men of what they had learned and the worthy once again listened.  Some did not understand and thought to prostrate themselves in spineless adoration for the favour of Tempus in the hope he would defeat their foes.  Yet the Foehammer looked disdainfully upon such men, seeing the craveness of their hearts and turned from them.  "Tempus does not win battles, he helps deserving warriors triumph".  Those craven men who had once begged for favour now understood.  

However, once again some few foolish people did not listen to the true meanings of the disciples, instead corrupting and twisting the sacred truths of Tempus to their own suiting.  These men thought that they might earn favour by ransacking temples of peace and establishing tyranny and dominion over the weak and unarmed.  Yet once again the Foehammer gazed down upon them and was not pleased with such cowardly ways of making war.  He smote their castles to ruin and granted arms to the opressed so they might rise up and make just war upon those who had unfairly triumphed over them.  He placed guardians over the shrines to the ideals of peace, "For what is war without peace to define it?".

At last the races of man understood how they might make just and honourable battle, how they might triumph and win glory eternal and the favour of the Foehammer.  With understanding came a Golden Age.

So concludes Book One: The Origins of War.