The Lore of the game thus far:
	The gods had waged war thousands of years ago. It was said that any time a god died it returned to the realm of man. evil or good. Titans and spirits fought to preserve peace with the fall of the gods. When the gods finally subsided from their war they began to grow weary, the fallen titans descended to the realm of man forming a prison for their own dying spirits. The titans had hollowed out and their ethereal bodies began to howl and twist in agony from the strain of the gods wars. They became savage, loathing, waiting for someone to end it all. Trapped in a hollow shell that was their physical forms.

	The gods tried to seal them away but as they gazed down onto the fate of mankind they saw the curiosity of which mankind had thrived on, in spite of the dying titan spirits they decided to see if the realm of man was capable of ending the sorrow, misery and rage of the titans, some of which lashed out in the caverns of their own physical prisons. The spirits on the other hand returned to the elements, in seeing that mankind had refined methods of bending the elements to their will, they offered the more worthy a shard of their powers.

	Some titans roamed until the ends of the earth, some dwelt in layers of mountains and valleys, some were even plunged underwater, the steady depths forbidding entry. Some of the land changed vigorously with the passing time, but what mankind hadn't expected was the expansion of their home lands. Whilst it was true that the land was carved, scarred from prior existence people built cities and homes on the tops of and around the titans. Unbeknownst that the horror of tormented, mutant spirits would bring. The dead would rise and night would fall. Not everything was as pleasant as it seemed.

	It wasn't heroes and legends that would save the people, nor prophets and poets. The task would be brought down by a fallen god, reincarnated as a hunter whose fate was but a blank page in the scriptures of history. The gods, titans, spirits nor man would know about this young persons fate and the history that backs them.


	The realm of Therainen was bountiful, blessed by beauty and light hearted tales. But not everything was perfect. The continents of the North and South had been plagued by threats of invasion from both sides. Factions and alliances were called to arms. Sell-Swords and brigands would converge on each other if one sensed the other was to call for war. The people were unaware to the politics of the two kingdoms. The North had riches, gold and resources. The Southern continent had golden foods and drink that would pour without interruption, they had technology that would advance their 	Fiefdoms, fueled by ancient magic passed down millenniums ago by the Asura, architects of metal constructs and magic based machinery. But sadly decimated by the plague winds that had swept their entire race clean from existence, what was not known about the Asura is what caused the plague winds. The truth unfolded to being their own demise by experimenting with dark magic that they could not comprehend. Dark magic was a double edged sword. With each use you trade a part of yourself or an equivalent in exchange for forbidden knowledge, wisdom or power. But something went wrong, the asura had become too confident in their own work that they did not even begin to understand what it was that they had built. When the plague winds devoured them it left one thing behind. Locked and sealed in rock. And buried deep into the earth. Many ventured to its depths in search of adventure but found only engraved runes written in old Asuran the spirits clawing to reach out and warn them but, ignored and forgotten.

	The dragons were the gods watchers. They looked on the realm in place of the gods, they looked on the races as being equals in weaknesses and strengths. The dragons were spiritual creatures attuned with the elements, bearing no physical form. Unseen by the rest of the world. They flew in lands, they swam in oceans and caverns where they felt especially attuned with. Until a small group of orcs had found themselves near the edge of the shadows of a cave. A hollow voice roared out. “who dares to trespass on sacred grounds. To sully my home of roost?!” the orcs, bewildered, spoke in their native tongues and beseeched forgiveness from the terror that bellowed and echoed through the darkness. The dragon who sensed weakness a deformity within the small clan of orcs, lowering its voice, it wagered the orcs an offer. “present your flesh for me and in return I will grant you power.” The other dragons began to wonder what going on and snuck forward near to the caves entrance to hazard a peek. The orcs, brandishing their knives began strip by strip rending flesh from their bodies until the voice called once more. “Enough! You have proved your bravery and as promised I will grant you, your powers” a shrill gust of wind blew past them, engulfing the pile of flesh the dragons began to feast, gorging themselves. The orcs wounds healed by the overflowing warmth of the wind. Their appearances began to change. They became more monstrous looking, disfigured by the dragons magic.

	The dragons thirst began to grow more frivolent, the unquenchable desires became more prevalent each day. The dragons didn't realise that the more they ate the more they were seen. Rumors of flying creatures were reported more and more. Adventurers set out to find these winged beasts but almost none returned. When advanced parties set out, the bodies were gone. Only charred bones remained and the beast was not to be seen. After some time had passed the dragons had finally entered a stage of physical being no longer invulnerable to time and space,  no longer invulnerable to environmental attacks. The legendary dragons were sentenced to death by the gods. They cursed their makers, they cursed their sentence. The dragons that still sided with the gods pleaded them along with the origin spirits of earth, sea, sky and flame. The gods quarrelled with the spirits and dragons, Forsetti stepped down from his throne and decreed that the rogue dragons should be banished to the outland's within the forbidden realm.

	Legends and epics were erected depicting the sheer enormity of these winged beasts. Artists got to work on illustrating fights between dragons and man. Huge tapestries glorifying the strength of man and dragon. On the day of forsettie's decree, The dragons were never seen, at least not until now.


	With the plague winds erasing the Asurans from the human realm the area became unstable for years, unknowing about what had happened to the asurans flocks of humans gathered to the site for which the catastrophic event took place. The further they ventured into the grounds the thicker the gasses and fogs got. The humans didn’t realise what was going on until it was too late. Their flesh peeled their organs failing, their eyes bleeding. Some became crippled, some died. The survivors that did make it back were left scarred and mentally unstable. Some were able to see far distances despite being blind; others could feel things without touching them. A select few were left with their minds partially intact, their human emotions were eradicated. Only their will and instincts were left. The ones who were able to grasp onto their lives made sure that no one entered the grounds until a long time had passed.
	Once the poisonous gasses and thick fog had cleared, the infested humans dubbed by the rest of humanity; corrupted, had set out to once and for all find out what had happened. As they ventured in. unledgable runes scarred the passage ways. Leading to a crevice in the rocks. As they strived forward into its foreboding darkness the walls were still lined with runes but something strange struck them. Claw marks were engraved, embedded deep into the walls creating cavities that looked as if an animal was scraping its claws along the walls. A closer inspection saw old writing written in the marks. One of the corrupted could make it out ever so slightly, it was ancient asuran, the words roughly translated to. “Run and don't look back.”
	Back on the surface they documented their discoveries and presented it to the grand library. Everyone stared, they all did. Even with clothes that covered up their atrocities. The elves were the only ones that were grateful. They even performed healing magic with the vast healing arts of the druids, shamans and the fairies. No longer did the corrupted feel the eyes of passer-bys upon them, their skin no longer mangled and singed by the acidic fogs that tortured them.