In a time long before the age of myths, came the creator Rhe. From the darkness of the Nothing, and pulled forth the orb that was Rheum – The world we know today.
It is at this stage, that the Unnamed Lord came to Rhe and asked “My friend, this tires you so, allow me to help you in this endeavour”
Thus the two gods chiselled out the valleys, and rose up the mountains. Rhe was pleased. But also, he felt alone.
With a small bit of his life force, he created the Daiyisin – the first folk of Rheum, and to them he gave the paradise Aethelon.
Angered, the Unnamed Lord created Dragon Kind and the Dragon fed and tortured the First Folk.
Seeing this, Rhe wept and thus gave birth to the oceans and rivers…
In his rage, he imprisoned the Unnamed Lord in a tomb, but in his anger did not fully seal it, and thus a small crack in the seal was left. The Unnamed Lord was not angry, he waited in the darkness.
The remnants of the First Folk rebuilt their cities and their towers in the place now known as Aethglid.
Rhe was still lonely, and called up one of the most beautiful of the folk to be his wife. Her name was Arehen. She bore him three children and to each, Rhe gave a gift
Karthas – He gave the suns, the scales of Justice that will hang in the sky for eternity.
Vol – he gave the night, to match his dark lockes
Ababeth – his daughter, he gave the land itself.
Rhe was content and happy.
Vol was not. In a rage at the bitter cold night he was given, he slew his mother and was banished to the underworld – the abyss and the hells. Rhe’s mind shattered and left the world, leaving it to his off spring.
The First Folk changed in those years, and off shoots of their lineage became the Elves we know today.
Ababeth, feeling the beauty and savagery of nature was swallowed by it completely. Everything needed a Balance. Thus she opened a gate to Vol, so a fragment of his darkness could encroach on the world itself.
Neutrality and Balance in All things, Brother, she said to Karthas whose rage boiled over…
Vol took his sisters gift and used it well. The centuries in darkness made him more sinister and cruel and he spat out through the gate the birth stone of Ork.
The Daiyisin had no idea of what the boats on the horizon meant. They were content in their woodland homes, and never embarked on ocean or air travel. Their world was all they needed.
The ork’s came in hordes and the Daiyisin were pushed across the mountains into the land now called Kubuldar. The orks claimed Aethglid for their own, and multiplied.
Fearing for what she had done, Ababeth, out of love and desperation created Man – by borrowing a seed of ork and the essence of the First Folk, together with her own blood.
Man was born and flourished. First in the lands of Kubuldar, thus driving the Folk further back to the seas itself… forcing them to leave the shored of Aethelon to the Last Home. None were ever seen in the world, but their essence left behind was yet to be used by another, unborn god.
For eons, Karthas, Vol and Ababeth played the game. The humans, so different in everything, bred rapidly and ventured forth populating most of known Aethelon
Kubuldar in the North, Thanes in the east, Harek and the Southern Desert Kingdoms to the south.
The gods, feeling alone in their heavens or hells, raised up the most prominent of humans to take as their lovers.
Karthas rose up Marmalian, and thus gave birth to Kane who Karthas gave the power of vengeance.
Vol rose up Succubenis and tortured her in the hells. She became the first Succubus. Their union spawned Mysin, whom Vol gave the control of Night and Darkness too.
Abbabeth raised up a lowly hunter, no more than a child himself, and showed him the ways of the world through her eyes. Their union gave birth to countless children, each one a gift and aspect of the world itself.
Shera was one such being, and in her wild ravings through the trees of the world, she found the essence of the First Folk and breathed life into it. With leaves, mud and bark she formed the very being of the Diagnosti. The Elves.
The creation almost shattered her soul and she could not contain or absorb the sudden power that was thrust upon her by the countless followers she had gained, and thus she allowed herself to be divided, become the four.
The elves turned their worship to Abbabeth – the Mother of All.
Thus the Gods of Today were named, and thus they are.
The world survived and the races flourished. Over centuries and millennia more beings formed. Ogres by Vol, Undead by Mysin – thus reassuring the need for the god of death, whose role Arehen’s spirit rightfully claimed – Dwarves, made by the stone aspect of Shera and so on.
Thus comes the time of the Great Wars and the dominance of the Dragon…
In the wake of the Unnamed Lord been imprisoned, he spat forth the Three Dragon Lords and a great war erupted across the land.
For centuries, dragons ruled the world and caste humanoids down to the role of slave. It is in this time, that much of what was known was lost and much of the gods’ powers were reshaped – some were lost – some were made.
The Golden Dragon, Thanamen, was displeased at the actions of his kinsfolk, and beseeched them time and time again to allow just a few of these creatures freedom to see what they can do and what can become of them. For this he was slaughtered by his own people, and Rhe stepped through the darkness of his death and captured his soul, binding it to the great gold-metal body that became his own steed in the war to come.
As Rhe sped across the skies on his new steed, a shadow swept down from above and struck him to the earth. The ground shook, and the seas boiled. The Dragon Lords looked up at the shadow, and kneeled before it, calling it lord.
Through the cracks and the sudden shattering of Rhe’s will, the peoples of the world united and the great plan unfolded. Gods gave hints of things, of plans, of tools and weapons. Others whispered into the ears of the Dragon Lords themselves. And the greatest of the wars and the end of that Age was at hand.
No tome tells of what happened. No words are written or spoken or remembered. But He who sees all, whispered this:
The fragments of the Daiyisin who stood in the Veil lifted their souls and spoke to the winds and the rain and the clouds. They spoke to the trees and the birds and the rock. Their words mean nothing now, but then, it was the call to unite.
Man could not hear these words. Nor did the Ork. The Dwarves and The Gnomes heeded the call and rushed to the aid of the First Folk. It was in this great meetings of the elders of the first races that the scroll of Undoing was born.
In the plains of Yerd, between the great Veil Mountains and the Oceans, the great Shadow slept. And here, surrounded by thousands, the first races gave their blood and their souls and performed the ritual, undoing the very creation of the Shadow…
In the wake, those that lived, shattered his blackened hide, cleaved off his wings and tore off his tail. His body was sundered and spirited away across the lands so that it shall never walk this world or fly its skies. Never again shall the world know of this darkness, this Shadow.
‘By the hells, how did I end up here? ‘ The young rogue asked himself as he gripped tightly to the leather bound hilt of this ivory dagger. ‘By Mysins balls… he comes for me. I am sure done for.’
The armoured dark-knight of Mysin stepped through the halls, looking about as he swung his morning star casually from his right to his left arm. Looking, studying, listening. The man was big, but not the biggest of warrior. His armour was darkened plate, difficult to cut through with any of his normal weapons.
‘Bollocks… Mysin hide me damn it… you hear me… Hide Me!’ Taral whispered through gritted teeth. He would never survive a toe to toe fight with a dark knight. Never in his lifetime.
Marick, the Dark-Knight, passed by his position and went up the stairs to the higher levels of the Dark Temple. Taral slipped quietly from the alcove in the ceiling and dropped to the floor. Quickly, on his toes, he moved down the stairs to the window he used to gain entrance. Almost as if he had done it a hundred times before, he moved from pillar to alcove, around a desk, passed a statue and then out the window, fleeing into the darkness that covered Karakkis like a woollen blanket, pin point holes of lights shining through it.
In his hole, far away from the streets and the eyes of others, Taral sat on his bedroll and looked at the dagger he had stolen. Why this dagger? Why did he want it so badly? He quietly slipped the dagger under his pillow and lay down in the darkness. The sound of dripping water echoed through the ancient sewer tunnels, and he took ages to sleep – his mind dancing about in the dark thinking of things, people, gods, Mary, Marick…