Dragonflight and the season of fire

After the last of the dracon had passed beyond their descendants, the dragons, remained reclusive in the northern mountains only venturing forth to feed off the migrating herds that populated the plains, much to the orcish herdsmen’s irritation.
This changed abruptly.
One morning, several years after the war between the Dark lord and the dwarves had ground to a series of raids, the skies darkened with the shadows of a vast migration of dragons. Red and gold, black and bronze, all were tearing up the air headed south with all the speed they could muster. There was no clue as to what had driven the draconian host from their lairs but whatever it was it was more urgent than the racial infighting that had come to characterize dragon society.
The host passed out of the valley and into the world beyond scattering to the far corners of the world. In this way it came that dragons are known to almost every culture in Ar-Lon.
The wonder and fear caused by the dragonflight was quickly replaced by panic. In the wake of the migration the north seemed to catch fire. A great bushfire swept the northern plains driving the herds and other creatures before it. Monstrous beasts known only in the tales of the most determined explorers came swarming down into the dwarven kingdoms. As the dwarves and their orcish allies attempted to stem the tide of monsters to the east stranger matters were afoot.
An emissary of the spiderfolk appeared in the elvish capitol of Elven-Dar and asked to be admitted to the royal presence. He brought tidings from Melianthia his queen of a great fire that was sweeping the woodlands of Delarnia and threatened to spread to Sorcerak. The emissary spoke of their common interest in keeping the ancient forest intact and offered a suspension of their hostilities in order to deal with this mutual threat. It was with grave reservations that the elven king accepted the alliance and gathered his hosts to drive north.
For close to seven weeks the two races battled to control the inferno and in the end most of Delarnia laid a burnt ruin denuded of its vast woodlands.
The blaze extinguished the elves searched for some clue as to what might have started the inferno. Their search revealed two shocking discoveries.
They found what appeared to be a battlefield at the foot of the eastern Dragonreach Mountains. Scattered and broken on the field were the bodies of thousands of elves, but elves unlike any that they had ever seen. Dark of skin with armor of harsh cruel design these elves appeared the complete opposite of their common kin. Crossing the battlefield they came to the remains of a colossal demon, its head split by the weapon still embedded in its skull. The weapon was Skycleaver, lost since the departure of the first king Alaine, and still gripping its shaft was the charred corpse of an elf unlike their dark cousins around them. Fair of skin and noble of bearing the unknown elf had died in the same blow that dispatched his foe.
Thus in the remains of this great battle the world had its first glimpse of the dark and twisted race man would call the drow. Skycleaver passed into elven hands for a time though eventually it would again pass out of mortal knowledge.