The Lazy Elf Inn was full. The conversation has always drifted to the latest dealings of the immortals. The citizens were worried, wondering how the change in the heavens affected their lives. How would it affect economy and trade? What would happen to the complicated politics of Arnath? Different people had different things to say. The conversation turned to how it all started. And then a smile appeared on the face of an elven female, bearing the harp of a bard.

“If you think you know better, tell us the tale yourself!” a tradesman challenged her. “Perhaps I do!” Sensing a story, the audience picked up the call. The bard drew out her harp, running her fingers over its strings. And then she spoke...

“For centuries, the truth was hidden, lost in the mists of time. The ancient secret. The oldest secret of them all. Many had wondered how the world began. Every people, every race had its own version, but the truth remained elusive. The Gods themselves knew it not, for were they not born after its creation? Some said that the world has always been as it is now. Others that was born willed by the wisdom of superior beings that had departed from our midst; others believed that those beings remained. Some say it was born out of the battle of order and chaos, of the eternal conflict of good and evil. Some people say this, and other that. The truth only the Old Gods knew.

The oldest legends of the oldest people speak of a relic of ancient power...of a gem that held the key to life and death. Born of the flames of creation, of the churning of the primeval ocean, of the battle of the elements, of the fight between law and chaos, at the time when the world was willed was it created. The epics talk also of its winged guardian. Was that Corin-Mur? It is for you to judge. These legends of the First Days always spoke of the Elder Gods, the persons of infinite wisdom and power, who created the world and withdrew, leaving the people to rule it.

Centuries passed. From scattered tribes, from the simple shepherds and the peasants, were kingdoms forged. People of each race, of each tribe, of each clan worshipped their own gods. False petty gods rose, and the memory of the Elder Gods faded.

A man came from the East: a man still young but bearing scars of fire. He came alone, but in his hands he bore a stone: a stone as black as the night, a stone that glowed with the light of stars, that shone with fiery fire. In the center of the plains he placed it, and a city came up around it. Brennar, the Golden City, was born under the watchful eye of Brennan, first priest-king of his line.

He prophesied that the city would be unvanquished while the stone remained at the heart of the chapel that he created for it in the city’s very heart. His children and his children’s children treasured it, and, indeed, it came to be that the city perished on the day it was lost. He never said from whence the Stone came, except he came from the east, east where the mountains of Sandor lie.

He united the tribes, and, for the first time, was an empire born. It ruled until the reign of Asnor, until the fall of fair Brennar, until the coming of Corin-Mur, until the day the world changed forever.

Four adventurers came, aided by the survivors of the fall of Brennar and helped by Alexandros, its former general. They tracked the Dragon to its lair. The battle waged for hours... until only one remained alive. Bleeding from his wounds and close to death himself, he mourned his fallen brethren. With the remains of his strength, not caring if he lived or died, he invoked the magical stone. An otherworldly light shone. And in its light the dead were restored to life; and not just restored to life, but granted immortality.

Caimen, their leader, was the God of Death. Archinus ruled Chaos. Giga made himself the God of War, and the Lady Kells declared for Light. The secret of immortality was revealed. Caimen kept the stone, and Corin-Mur fled to its lair in Sandor.

Centuries passed. New Gods were raised to assist these four, and then replace them. They took over the overseeing of the realms. The Stone came to be called the DragonStone. The world changed, the old gods were forgotten, the worship of new Gods rising in their stead. One after another over the millennia came Mik, Matthias, Embraic, Shaithus, Kleothera, Streiter, Aerick, Traewyn, Phaisith, Belidus, and Berelain. Some were good and others evil, but the realm prospered. The Elder Gods watched as the new generation grew in power, still not interfering in the lives of Mortals. While the world was well, there was no reason to break the Code of Silence.

Alas, power corrupts, and absolute power that immortality brings corrupts absolutely. The God of Death grew too powerful. His decisions guided by his whim and his quest for power. The Land was in peril, groaning under his evil reign. The Gods appealed to him to desist, to consider the welfare of the realms. He only grew in anger. The ground shook. The rivers ran in blood. It was time, time for the truth to be revealed, and the veil of secrecy to be lifted. The Land looked for one to challenge Caimen’s might.

Phaisith, Lord of the Underworld, The Lord of Darkness, challenged him to single combat. The future of the world was at stake. A veil of darkness covered the sky, and silver streaks of lightning flashed over the horizon. Time stood still. Then, an explosion was heard in the distance. Caimen fell. The DragonStone was shattered. In the mountains of Sandor, Corin-Mur gave a cry and fled into the distance. Is he yet alive? Would he return? Time alone will show. His soul is linked to the Stone. With it shattered, none know what became of him.

Ah yes, the truth. The Old Gods still remain. Watching. Protecting. For centuries, they have been in our midst, guarding the Realms against any that would upset the balance. Lord Phaisith stepped forth as one of the Old Gods, breaking the millennia of silence. The temples of the Gods were shattered. Time turned back. Centuries of religious dogma overturned. It is the time of change, of mysteries revealed. The world will never be the same again.

How do I know all this? Because I was there. Because I am one of them. I, Kleothera, Goddess of the Flames, Lady of The Circle and Discordance, Protectress of the Elves, Hero to Caimen and Archinus, was there too since the beginning of days. I say that the time has come for the blood of the Elder Gods and New to mingle, creating a New World. The time for watching is over; it is the time of action. The morning of that New Age has dawned. The day shall be what you make it! Immortals and the Mortals together shall create a better world.”