In the beginning there was only two beings, Mother Gaia and Father Uranus, the earth and the sky. In their union they made the world, and many children came after, but alas, the Sky detested the children the Earth bore him, so he left her in disgust after their 8th child was born, and to this day he remains aloft, above the world and away from his wife and the progeny she brought him that he cannot bear to be near. The loss of her lover pained Gaia so; she wept for days on end, her own children unable to console her. From her salty tears came the sea, which surrounded her material form. Then came a deep sleep, the earth slumbered and her children were left alone to explore this new existence of theirs.

There was Thori, God of the Earth, 4th born; His sister, 5th born Ella, Goddess of the Trees and plains, along with her twin brother, 6th born Eller, God of the Hunt and the wild things. Then there was ever idle 2nd born Ythlo, perched upon his Obsidian Throne, the impotent god of the Air. A special note goes to 8th born Tyr, bored until his siblings made mortal for him to play with, but only logical since animals and nature have little to do to entertain the god of War. Finally there was the odd pair out, the 7th born Goddess of the night, Illendil, and her constant companion, the first god born in this world and most hated by his father.

Yama, the god of Time, and of Death.

But what is a world without being to play in it? The Gods themselves wondered this question as they explored their mother's sleeping form. Thori was the first to try his hand at creation, breaking off a lump of mountain and taking his hands and further breaking that boulder into small forms. With a whispered breath came small hairy caricatures of Thori himself, and thus the dwarves were born. Next the twins took their turn, taking both the bark of tree and flesh of deer, they created a tall, slender people that came to be known as the elves. Ythlo, ever the indolent, merely took a lump of dirt and water, and from his lackluster effort came the slimes and their various progeny, not to mention all other manner of shapeless and formless denizen that populated this world, its monsters born from the bordem of a idle god. Next came a collaboration of Thori and Eller, brutish being meant to protect the woods, stocky and grey like the rock and barks they were crafted from, the Orcs. But there was one race different from the others, made from the union of two gods rather then the will of their power. In the cover of her night the Goddess Illendil did find solace in her brother Tyr's arms, and their union, as the union of their sibling parents before them, did beget a strange being. It was tall like the twins elves, but not quite as much; hairy like Thori's Dwarves, but not quite as much, strong like Brother's Orcs, but not quite as much. This was man, and he the last race created by the Gods. Seeing his siblings work, Yama only watched. He spoke at last to them, when pressed to explain why he himself had not made any beings for their mother's world.

"I care not to create, and instead I will enjoy your creations when their time on mother is finished."

And in the midst of this work, of populating the world, came a terrible darkness. Father Sky spat his hatred upon the world, resenting both her and the work of her children. His maleficent thought took form as creatures of horrible proportion and thought, wrecking havoc upon Gaia and her progeny, and their creations as well. The Gods warred with these creatures for years, tearing Gaia asunder underneath them, only ending when Tyr himself rose to the Sky and smote his father, tearing his corpse asunder and casting it out into the void, his drops of blood forming the stars in the sky.

Returning to their broken mother, the Gods grieved, all except Yama, for he would enjoy her company even in death. Taking leave of this world and forming their own in the void, the Gods still keep one earth to this world, their home and the grave of their parents, but aside from this their creations were left alone in a scarred, scattered world. Other creatures and beings arose in the time between, some from the terrible might of the war of the gods, and others from the primordial soup of Gaia and her fluids as well. The Gods saw fit to take their creations and reshape them, to spare their memories of the war and its horrors, and release them once again into the world, a new world, but Ythlo, in his remiss ways, left some fraction of the gods in the mind of their creations. It is in this such world that the race of man finds itself, once scattered across the world but driven to the point of extinction by the very creatures that haunt its nights and dark places. Now the final nation of man rest upon one of the various bit of mother earth, eager to reclaim the world lost to them, to purge the beings that forced them to such lowly depths, but also to thank and live in peace with the ones who have let them stay alive. The last city is their home, resting behind vast stone walls but sparsely populated. A new tool, one that is revolutionizing the world, gives man hope. Hammer blow rings out in last city, a art taught to men by the dwarves, erstwhile friends of man, as metal is shaped into weapons of war and peace.

The world is out there, it only needs to be claimed.