Wondering, though, where did the humans come from?
They are Anlaran humans, originally hired hands who decided to stay and build their own city-state on the unoccupied surface land, free from the feudal trappings of their home kingdom. Tech level is now high enough to survive in the permanent winter; there is, like, steam power and greenhouses and such in the mountains to grow food (not shown on the map though).Ngerxung was preparing for her final battle. Dwarven hunters, she saw them through the eyes of her golem as they destroyed it. Now that her citadel's doors had been breached and her bestial army slaughtered, she only had one ally left: magma.
She called forth her power over the earth, causing the molten lake to grumble and boil, ready to spill out and devour everything in its path. It would take her and the dwarves with her, rise to reach their city, and then to the surface, burning, consuming, like Ngerxung's hatred consumed her. She hated the dwarves for all she's been through since the fall of the Goblin realm, but especially for robbing her of her revenge on Vîrfesh the dragon.
"Ngerxung", a voice called from above. "This is not the time."
She threw an angry glance upstairs, growling. "Get lost! Out of my lair, whoever you are!"
But the voice continued, "I know all of your plight. The primordial powers are weaker today than they used to be. You will only slay a few dwarves and it'll all be for naught. But help me and I will help you."
She only snarled back. "Goblins have no friends. I've been lurking too long. It's time to kill and be killed!"
There was an audible sigh. "I need you, Ngerxung. You will not be killed today. Observe."
Just as the dwarven vanguard broke into the heart of the citadel, something happened. An oppressive psychic wave washed over everything, forcing the Goblin back, but it was the Dwarves who took the brunt of it. Screams filled the air, most of the intruders now rolling on the floor clutching their heads; one bashed her helmet against a wall repeatedly, another bent over retching, his musket, axe and shield on the ground, and yet another gurgled, unable to breathe as if choked by invisible force. All the while the stranger remained invisible, wrapped in a cloak of their mind.
One dwarf managed to stand back; his hand grabbed an emerald amulet around his neck, whispering some kind of mantra. That seemed to help, he made a few steps, using his free hand to pull out a two-shot pistol. "I... see... you..."
Ngerxung's mind snapped back to reality. Her thrown axe caught the dwarf in the face as he was aiming, and the shot went loose.
"That was close", the voice remarked. "Now we must go."
"Show yourself first! And where?"
"I'm right here", the cloaked figure Ngerxung could swear wasn't there a moment ago, extended a hand covered in golden scales. Two round eyes peered at her from under the deep hood. "And to the frozen sea, of course."
***
Excerpts from the "Mystery Codex" circa 72-95.This heavy codex holds personal notes and research concerning the climate shift in Oldlands Valley, locally known as Summer's End. Though superficially reminiscent of contemporary dwarven codices, it uses an archaic script dated out of use for half a century by the time of writing. Scholars widely ascribe the book to the semi-mythical Theliiri queen Adela, but there are some discrepancies in dates and wording, and the author never mentions themselves by name. Much of the writing has been lost; what remains is presented below.
Year 82.I must leave my Theliiri wards as I undertake a journey to the outer realms. Summer's End is not the first cataclysm to strike the Oldlands, and I believe its cause must lie with the meddling of primordial powers.
Year 83.My journey took me through human lands, I noted that the valley must have been the epicenter of this new winter. Surrounding areas have been hit less hard, and far to the south I'm not seeing any difference from my last visit back in 38, except there's more humans and they're more advanced.
Year 84.It is appalling that so many of the humans try to worship the primordial powers as gods, yet have no clue to their workings. There is a kingdom in the west, ruled by a dragon in paper-thin disguise as a Titan of Fire. Which he is not.
Year 85.I have sparse evidence that primordial powers are actually weaker than they were at the time of Creation. Could it be that the cataclysms arose from their grasp on the world slipping? If such is the case, we will not be able to harness them into stability.
Year 86.Salt and sulfur! Dealing with humans is frustrating; Who would've thought gold would become so important in their society too? I see a dwarven hand in that. And I wondered why the Oldlands got so much attention; our gold vein was one of the richest known.
Year 87.This gold should be enough to fund my overseas expedition. My calculations show where the Ocean Titan's island must be, if only I could get a crew with enough faith to attempt the voyage. I can't blame the humans, though, water is not their home element.
Year 89.Further delay is unacceptable. I don't like where this is going, but I'm commandeering a crew from this kingdom's war fleet. Going to need a new disguise, one that'll last for months of voyage.
Year 90.I have seen the dead Titan. Truly, not even the Creator could've foreseen this. By now I feel it's easier to change ourselves than to change our environment. Or perhaps the dwarves were right and technology is the answer after all.
Year 91.I have returned to the Oldlands, if only to observe. Curiously, I found a Goblin practitioner of primordial powers entrenched in struggle for dominance with the dwarven city-state. Does she know her powers run on borrowed time? Perhaps I can find a way to replicate them, or convince her to help. A volcanic vent where I want it would solve so much.
Year 94The dwarves are advancing fast, but their minds still stick to martial thinking. Ngerxung, that's the Goblin's name, they're going to kill her, and that is something I cannot allow to happen.
Year 95(the writing here is scratched out, leaving only a single phrase) Where ice meets magma, the old ones shall return, despite unending winter.