Where neither Seraphim nor raindrops go...
When the universe was young and without form, there were those called the gods, beings of great power who did as they pleased. There was no up nor down, no front or back, for nothing of this sort had ever been conceived. The gods, for all their power, were infinitely distinct, so that they could never know each other fully, but their conversations and games brought great delight to them all. In their delight, they began to recount to each other stories of times they had spent with other gods. But inevitably, they got some detail of another god wrong, imagining the other to be more like themself. The power of the gods was so great however, that the universe could not abide them being wrong, and at every misguided description of another, a new creature was brought into being that met such a description. These new creatures at first filled the gods with great glee, for they, unlike other gods, could be fully known, understood, and predicted. They were called the [[T’tan]] , meaning the “stretched ones”, for they were created from a stretching of the truth or imagination, and for a time shared in the games and stories of the gods. But soon the gods grew tired of the the T’tan, finding them dull, their stories uninteresting and predictable. So the gods created the directions and sent the T’tan away from their presence. Several gods took pity on the T’tan, knowing the creature’s inborn want for limitation, and created for them a world on which to settle.
Finding the world filled with beauty, the T’tan were reminded of the gods, and began to create imitations of the things they discovered. Being young and inexperienced in imagination and creativity, the creations of the T’tan were crude and fell short of the glory of the gods’ creations. Many T’tan grew frustrated and angry that what they made could not match the gods’ beauty and glory. Beholding in each other something of the image of the gods, they began to fashion from the ground other creatures to look like them. But these statues remained as the ground from which they were made. All the more frustrated and angry, the T’tan began to simply stack up mound after mound of earth, intending to create a means to climb back to the gods. Tireless in the banal repetition, they eventually used up every lump of stone and clay available, and went to gather the statues they had formed to pile upon the now-great mountain. One lone god, seeing the beauty in the statuary and knowing it would be destroyed under the T’tan’s massive feet, brought the statues to life. It was hoped that not only would this enhance the beauty of the statues and protect them, but would also ease the loneliness of the T’tan by living with another species more limited than the gods. These living statues were given the given of craftsmanship and bore the likeness of the T’tan. So it was that the dwarves, the first to be truly alive, born of life and stone, were made.
The dwarves, more refined than their T’tan lords, and touched by the creativity of the gods, fashioned many a beautiful thing upon the world. The lone god who had created the dwarves, loved the creation and spent many hours upon the face of the world, delighting in their beautiful masterpieces. The T’tan grew jealous of the lone god’s affection, and when watching the dwarves, attacked, splitting the god into pieces. Where the drops of blood hit the ground, life burst forth in startling array. Birds leapt into the air, beasts crawled from the ground, fish swam through the blood, and a massive forest arose. The T’tan, startled by this sudden and divergent range of beauty, became all the more resolute in their desire to be with the gods.
The T’tan uprooted the mighty trees of the forest to fashion a ladder to add to the mountain of ascent, trampling and destroying immense swaths of the primeval land. They forced the dwarves to build for them supports from the bones of the dead god. But as the dwarves opened cracked apart the ribs of the god, from the fallen heart sprung the Fey’ral, born of potency and blood. Subtle, wily and wild, the Fey’ral slew the encroaching dwarves, but the stalwart bands of dwarves came for revenge. So began the great war of dwarf and fey.
Shocked at the death of their fellow god and the bloodshed of mortals, the gods were moved. Some insisted on action, sending forth legions of fiery angels in a storm of judgment. Others insisted on contemplation and serenity, planting in the hearts of mortals the dream of eternal peace and granting the finality of rest to those who had died. But while the eyes of the gods were turned toward the war, the T’Tan finally ascended into the heavens.Thus did the great Dawn War begin, as the heavens and the Earth were ravaged by all-encompassing battle. The very fabric of the cosmos, unable to bear such terrible agony, was rent asunder, splitting into separate planes. Still did the Dawn War rage, until but a handful of gods remained. Using their combined power, they sacrificed themselves, hurling the last of the T’tan to the Earth and ceding their own immortals powers to the mortal realm. The deaths of these final gods created a new mortal race, humanity, born of sacrifice and hope. For a time, the shock of total deicide and the valor of the humans brought peace to this shattered world. Now even the human empires have crumbled, and the last scions of humanity are relegated to a few barbarian tribes in the Northlands. If hope is to be found, it is now in the hands of heroes with more troubled bloodlines…