Lore: The Battle of Jlarford

It was a cold and snowy day.

15 years ago there was a war. War's broken out plenty of times before, but this was different. The Wrath from the south tried to invade time and time again, but this time it finally got a foothold and pushed through. It consumed everything it touched, pulling done everything the Men of Midgard had built since the Ragnarök.

The people of Cayemar rallied and marched for the border. They began to push back the Wrath, winning battle after battle. But it was not that simple. Rivalries still burned brightly between the kingdoms of men and the shadows from the Wrath knew how to exploit that.

On the Plains of Jlarford, where the Order of Jlarford's citadel now stands, witnessed the bloodiest battle in living memory. Some say it was a miscommunication that then led to betrayal, some say the minds of Men were warped by the Wrath, but what everyone does know is that what should have been tactically organised battle turned into a vicious melee of survival.

Allies turned on allies and armies collapsed into in-fighting. The fighting had begun at the rise of the sun, and it wasn't until it set again that the smokes of war finally cleared on the battlefield.

But the enemies they had fought from the Wrath were never seen again.