How did it come to this? How did we fall so far? The world was ours; we were its masters, and look at us now. Look how we have been so denigrated and reduced. Like sand slipping through fingers, it is gone, lost, never to return. The sense of order and beauty and balance of this world dead, slaughtered by these barbarian’s unstoppable conquest. Nothing was spared from this annexation; their march, like the passage of time, was unstoppable. Their flags flew upon the ruins and rubble of our once mighty empires.

One human caused this, small and terrified, fleeing the laws of his kin, flew into the chasm of the ancient mountain, Maar. Humans were a lesser race, a faulted design of the god Fanduil, a peoples that were unable to command the potency of magic. His small, emaciated frame slivered through the crack until he was deep within the core of the mountain. There, he found a giant with chunks torn from his flesh, suspended by chains of flames eternally gnawing at his blackened and burnt skin. Golden blood flowed from the giant’s wounds, creating vast pools of liquid gold. Falling to his knees before the great figure, the human submitted himself and swore fealty to the chained god.

Two gifts were granted to the human for a price. The first: a long hollow tube, filled with an explosive powder and a sphere of lead. The second: knowledge to replicate the creation. The human returned to his tribe, gun in hand. After killing a soldier trying to apprehend him, his people shrunk into the shadows, fearing his supposed magic. He shared the invention gifted to him and became the prophet of the shackled god beneath the mountain. The price for these gifts were simple and fair for giving the humans a chance to free themselves of the ancient and magical races that dominated them. All the humans had to do is accept Aldur as their god and free him from his chains.

With the new weapons they spread, marching out with gun and cannon, butchering those beings that used to prey upon them. Born from success, their land and number swelled. Not yet were they able to challenge the ancient elven empires, but the orcs, giants and minotaurs were felled in a hail of lead. The human race, united under the banner of Aldur, zealously worshipped their liberator god, and with their belief, his shackles shattered under his renewed strength. Vengeful, Aldur walked among his adopted people and led them to war. A wave of humanity flowed out, killing and torching everything in their path. Pleas slipped from the lips of many races to the gods, begging for the power to save them. But the gods were too slow, too disorganised, blinded by their own squabbles.