It began in darkness, and ended in light, which is all that is certain in the forming of the world. No-one is sure how, or when, and most importantly why we are here, and with all the dangers we face who has the time to try and answer these questions? Certainly not the Warrior, nor the Miner, Alchemist, Mage or Smith.

All we know of the times we live in and what went before are the stories our elders tell, and the histories we believe to be true. The old tales differ for every race, across each island and every different village. We will never know the absolute truth of these things, we can only guess from the common threads of each confused and conflicted tale, and these become yet more muddied for every passing day our times remain unchronicled.

This work is a tome recording our civilisation, collected to safeguard the knowledge of our forefathers. It is the finest work of the six races, a testament to their glories, their failures, and their Eternal Lands.

It is perhaps only fitting that our earliest and most accurate tales can be traced to the great forest abodes of the Elves. They tell of a great birth of life in a time beyond their reckoning. Their legends speak of seven Gods, different in form as in thought, who for time without end had debated existence and reason. Aluwen the creator, Elandria the preserver, Zarin the joyous, Dvar the maker, Glydoc the defender, Centau the changer and Mortos - the end of all things. Endless conversations resolved only that their first purpose should be creation - the making of a world in which to ground their theories and test assumptions.

They began in harmony, placing the ground beneath and the sky above, giving boundaries to the perception of all who would live there. They created inert plant and active animal, to provide the concept of time both moving and still. They created Sea, Sun and Moon, to balance the smallness of things with a greatness of concept. And they created the races, wrought in their own image, yet becoming more separate as their labours split every agreement regarding creation.

Aluwen, ever the innovator and bringer of life, began first to give intellect to her creations. For all the world's beauty she felt something was missing. Thus she created the first sentient being to roam Eternal-Lands, a serpentine soul at home in all elements, capable of reaching to the intellectual heights of the Gods themselves. She named this, the first of its kind, Dragon.

The Dragon was a gorgeous creature. Her long graceful body and vast wings seemed to shine brightly over and complement exquisitely the beauty of the lands themselves. She was made of every hue, but would ever take a form best suited to where she found herself. Zarin, taken with the creature's joyous form, blessed her with the individual name Kaysel, which means "Rainbow".

Aluwen, with the consent of the other gods, blessed Kaysel, and from her two children were born - the black Dragon Iringold (meaning Jet), father of the Draegoni, and the white Dragon Vias (meaning Pearl), keeper of souls.

But Kaysel was not to share in her child's upbringing for long. Her position as the firstborn of all the God's creations meant she could never truly be a creature of the Lands, and as Kaysel grew, she was persuaded by Aluwen that she must let him live without her. Kaysel was gifted with Eternal life, and she remained hidden, watching her beloved child as he learned of the world and the creatures in it.

The independence of the two Dragons gave Aluwen great joy, but also sadness, as they, mighty but wilful adolescents, often concentrated on their own growth rather than on the lands. Desperate to see the world populated by something that would be more bound to the earth of creation, she placed Elves upon the land, wingless.

She gave her second race long life so they might study the Gods' earliest works the better. As this race also grew and began to crave independence, their gathering wisdom and the influence of Aluwen gave them a deep love of everything that lives. They over all the other races give most thanks to their God, appreciating the great wonder of the world they have been given.

Zarin like Centau was a true believer in change, though her belief did not translate itself into such madness as his. She instead found sound and light to be a far greater source of plurality, and cherished the twin beauties of music and art.

Like Aluwen, she loved the leaves and animals, and so sought to complement them with beautiful sounds. Her race have become wonderful musicians as a consequence, and live deep in the forests where their music, and their nature, can remain undisturbed.

Centau hated all suggestion of permanence, and found the attempts of Elandria and Dvar to create it incomprehensible. Instead he sought endlessly for change, believing it his only means of finding solution to the endless nothingness he came from.

Centau roamed the world he and the other Gods had created, running endlessly and glorying in endless mutation. His race constantly moved; they were birthed and killed daily under the weight of Centau's need. They were the only race to ever truly rebel against their God, influenced by the serenity of the Elves and betraying a doubt in Centau's own mind, by beginning to eat and live longer lives.

Deprived of his race, and obsessed with his need for constant change, Centau fell from grace, losing his sanity and racing like a beast through the plains and wastes of the world. Though the other Gods tried to console him, Centau was deaf to their words, and his final fate would be a dark one.

There was one more God, and he disagreed from the start with creation. Mortos fought against the other five, tearing down sky and earth even as it came into being. He was horrified by life and death, change and permanence, and wished it all away. For time beyond comprehension he fought the others, destroying their thoughts and feeding their fears.

The Orcs were his own race, and reflected his dreadful hatred. Barely sentient, his anger and pain fed into them a darkness of soul that warped their bodies and minds. Grotesque, and pursuing only Mortos' agenda of destruction and strif, they represented a threat that could not be tolerated. In order to protect that most pitiful of races from the pain and suffering Mortos gave them, the other Gods banded together.

They punished Mortos for the pain he visited upon his race with fearful fury, casting him down beneath the earth to rot with his despair. There he remains to this day, and his domain is that of Hell. He sits upon the Ebony Throne and forever plots against this world.

Time flew quickly for the other Gods, as they experimented and grew with their races. The Dragons became ever more wise, learning the ways of their new world and manipulating even as the Gods did. The Humans, Gnomes and Dwarves lived as tribes, wandering the lush landscape with tools and tents. The Elves and Zarin lived with almost blameless innocence, gently flowing with nature even as their cousens tried to tame it. The Orchan and Draegoni practised war and risk-taking, pushing their tolerances to the limit through battles and challenges with each other. The Centaur travelled constantly, filled with the wanderlust of their creator, and the Orcs dug deep underground, fighting to find a place in the world where their pain would be lessened.

Soon enough the races had all but forgotten both Mortos and his Orcs, while the Gods themselves felt him only as a slight push against their will to keep him imprisoned. But a God cannot be so easily contained. The darkness of the Ebony Throne grew powerful over Mortos' long centuries of imprisonment. Where others experimented with creation and nature, he worked with subversion and destruction, seeking an alternative way to free himself.

The Orcs, who retained a link to their creator for most of this period, were the only ones with legends of his activities then, and what we have been able to garner from their half-remembered babblings has shed little light. We have done our best to piece together from scraps of their most ancient tales what went on in the underworld.

Early in his imprisonment, Mortos discovered a way to reach the free gods in the world above, invading their dreams and insinuating himself into their subconscious. Subtly, he brought a new campaign to destroy their psyches and bend them to his will. He began with Centau, the easiest of the six - one who had already been driven to madness.

Mortos came first into Centau's dreams, where the constant running and tearing, death and renewal of Centau's mindscape proved easy to manipulate. Mortos broke Centau, inflicting horrific images and thoughts on that already tattered soul until the once great God finally threw himself into the seas, screaming and thrashing as he sank to unknowable depths. Though immortal, Centau has all but passed out of sight and mind since, and is thought to remain beneath the waves, where storms reflect the raging mania of his thoughts.

Mortos' second target was Dvar, lord of the Dwarves. Mortos found Dvar's destruction a harder task, and worked to lead him away from his kin with dreams of great works of craft. Through the God's precise, mathematical mind Mortos promised ever greater feats that could be made, if only Dvar had peace from the world.

Over time, Dvar withdrew from the bustle of life, moving underground to find the silence he needed to make his great creations. In time, he stopped speaking entirely to his kin. Items wrought by Dvar's great skill can still be found in the deep, singing quietly to themselves.

The third of Mortos' targets was Glydoc, whose straightforward mind was easy to cloud, but impossible to break. Glydoc's dreams were simple, unambiguous clashes of honour and cowardice, and Mortos fed from the latter. Glydoc's own despair was ironically lessened by this, which strengthened his mind both awake and asleep.

He soon grew aware enough to notice and expel Mortos, yet the Ebony Throne's influence was noticeable - Glydoc's courage and power in war became offset by a lessening of his goodness. He became neutral to the affairs of the world.

Fourth was Elandria, the innovator. She was canny, even in her dreams, and provided far more of a challenge than the first of Mortos' victims. Yet over centuries, Mortos had an effect even on her, emphasising her distrust of Glydoc's new, pitiless nature into an intense hatred of his love of war (and hence, destruction).

This was however all Mortos could accomplish, and she discovered his presence in her mind, expelling him. With the passing of time her race has come to be among the most respected and numerous in the lands, and she is beloved by all for her permanence and peaceful nature - though feared for her enigmatic ways.

Next Mortos tried to invade the mind of Zarin, projecting dark images of Elandria destroying her forests to try and make her disbelieve any warnings. He was too late. Elandria had already told Zarin and so she cast him out almost immediately.

She and Elandria, despite their differences, have remained firm friends since. Her love for the life of our world has remained undimmed, and we call her Zarin, the joyous.

Last came Aluwen, the greatest of the six old gods and with Zarin, the one who led the others to cast him into his prison. Mortos, barred from her walled dreams, had to take an altogether different approach against his greatest enemy.

Mortos strove for countless ages to find a way of securing his freedom. His knowledge of the limits of his prison had grown further over centuries of effort invading the minds of the six, but he was ever-patient in making his preparation to attempt to destroy our world.

His chance came with an Elf, perhaps the most brilliant child of that race to have walked these lands.

Unolas was, by many of his kin's standards, a heretic, delving too deeply into areas of the world long avoided. In some ways he was more Dwarven than Elvish in his outlook, craving peace for his experiments with the nature of the Gods' work, and he gave less regard to the beauty of Aluwen's nature. He was more interested in how and why we came to be, and in the possibility of gaining those powers the Gods clearly possessed.

Mortos worked hard to help Unolas in his quest, and over the course of three centuries, the two of them met in dreams that became more vivid and lengthy as time went by. The two became friends (insofar as Mortos is able to befriend anyone), and they learned much from one another, with Unolas writing down their nightly conversations and his daily experiments in a series of massive books.

Twelve thick tomes of knowledge and lore were accumulated, as Unolas' gifted mind leapt the intellectual chasms that divide God and mortal.

Finally, one fine spring day, Unolas stood on the northern shores of Irilion, and pronounced the forms of the essences to a congregation of his Elven kin from every corner of the lands.

He demonstrated each essence in turn, drawing gasps of astonishment as he manifested both creation and destruction around him for several hours, before retiring to his bed, exhausted.

The Elves too returned to their homes, spreading word of a mortal who wielded the power of the Gods, and the world grew ablaze with rumour and fear. Other races, fearing the threat of a mortal Elf wielding immortal power, appealed to the Gods to pass judgement on Unolas.

Seeing the very foundations of their great work revealed, the Gods responded. A court was founded, to judge this Elf whose studies had caused so much concern, with the four Gods Elandria, Zarin, Glydoc and Aluwen sitting on the highest of thrones.

It was thought they would find Unolas guilty of heresy and destroy him, yet Mortos pre-empted this, furnishing Unolas with three unassailable arguments:

First of these was his motive. Unolas had caused no harm to others and used his knowledge responsibly.

Second was the mere fact of his dedication, which was not evil in itself and indeed was the only way for the races to grow and evolve as their creators had wished them to.

Third, and most important, was that killing him would not stop others from learning as he had. A line had been crossed. Surely it would be better, given his obvious good character, to elevate rather than punish him for his achievements?

The four Gods were slow to decide, debating for over a decade the various arguments as an already aged Unolas grew frail with time.

Glydoc argued in favour of execution, seeing the use of magic by mortal creature as an invitation to cowardice and a betrayal of honour. His view was overruled. The others felt that to try and keep magic from their creations would be unjust. Instead they took into account Unolas' restraint in the use of the powers he had, and the potential harm that these powers could do, and decided to elevate him, to render him immortal so that he could watch over the essences of the mortal realm.

So Unolas took a place among the Gods themselves, and Mortos gained an ally in his quest for freedom.

Mortos had not been idle in the daylight hours, as Unolas toiled those long years. He spoke also to a second being, an Orchan known as Selain.

Selain was altogether different from Unolas, uninterested in pure research, driven only by dreams of greed and power. Mortos came across Selain almost by accident, drawn to the Orchan's childish diggings in the darkest pits of the Underworld.

Barely a teen, Selain already had a dark and ruthless cunning, and a wicked gift for the arts of alchemy. He dug in the great depths of the deepest caves for new and powerful ingredients to add to his potions, so he could by stealth dominate his village where he could not by force of arms. So close did he venture to the true realms of Mortos that the dark God heard his scratchings, and invaded his mind.

Mortos was taken with what he saw there. Selain was utterly amoral, and more so than Unolas, would not simply provide help for his plans to escape, but could cause great anguish to the other Gods in doing so.

Mortos poured every once of the power he had accumulated into the vessel, and in doing so, created a God who would ravage the Eternal Lands and begin the Great War.

The War of the Gods involved every race to some extent, and has created enmities and alliances between mortals and deities which last to this day. Our knowledge of the conflict itself is less than complete, but the events leading up to it have been handed down almost intact through the generations.

Additional: Some place names were at first unintelligable to our scholars. The noted human scholar Winckless of Corren (d. 20 B.G.W) however was able to deduce their likely origin. His notes are included in this text.

Selain did not immediately return to the surface of the earth upon gaining his stupendous powers, but continued to travel beneath it, seeking out rare items to further his long term aims.

The unearthly strength and power he gained from Mortos lent him immortality, and as Unolas gained a knowledge of essences Selain built up a vast horde of potions, ingredients and items, hidden in the underworld he had come to know so well. It is rumoured that he even spoke to Dvar, though this has never been confirmed by the great poisoner himself.

Over the long decades and centuries, as Unolas grew closer to Mortos, Selain plotted and schemed, taking all he could from his mentor, promising nothing. For this Mortos respected him and far more than for Unolas, gave of his strength to the new God.

While Unolas wrote the last three tomes of his great work, Selain moved to the surface for short periods, visiting Draegonis, Humans, Dwarves and Elves to enslave them with trickery and blackmail. He created a network of worshippers and unwilling servants within every city and town, a secret army feeding more money and influence to him with each passing year.

On the day Unolas demonstrated his magics next to the sea's sparkling waters, Selain drank blood and made alliance with the Orcs, helped by Mortos. Over the next decade he enlisted Ogres to swell their ranks and trained them into a regimented army equal to any challenge the other races could muster.

His abilities as a spymaster and God allowed Selain to conduct himself with complete secrecy. None on the surface, even those enslaved to his will, knew what would be coming.

Finally a momentous day arrived, when God and mortal sat in one court to elevate Unolas to the ranks of the immortals. In ranks twenty deep the nobility of each race stood before their creators, on a floor of polished silver.

No walls surrounded them. They had been summoned to a realm beyond our world where infinity rushed ever outwards from the bounds of the room, a meeting place of the Gods.

In the centre of the room stood four tall columns, which seemed to have grown from the very silver of the floor. Four golden thrones were atop these columns and upon these sat the four remaining deities, resplendent in vast and beautiful robes of impossible hue. In front on them was a fifth column, made only of wood, where Unolas stood with his head bowed.

Glydoc spoke first, his deep, melodious voice shaking the very bones of the nobles around the hall.

"YOU ARE AN INSOLENT AND UNTRUSTWORTHY CREATURE. YOU DO NOT DESERVE THE POWER YOU HAVE FOUND." His words caused the Draegoni and Orchans in the hall to fall to their knees, begging forgiveness, and Unolas hunched forward slightly in submission.

Zarin smiled, and with a voice that sighed as the wind, continued.

"YOU HAVE LITTLE GOODNESS IN YOU. GIFTING YOU AN IMMORTALITY SUCH AS OURS WOULD NOT BRING JOY TO THIS WORLD." The Satyrs could not help but drop to the floor and cry with shame, Unolas nodded helplessly.

Elandria fixed him with a stare that seemed to freeze the universe, with eyes as fathomless as the depths of the ocean. She spoke in a thousand voices, alike to the rustling of wheat fields in summer. The humans of the hall stood rooted to the spot, entranced.

"YOU SHOW GREAT PATIENCE AND INTELLIGENCE. YOU WOULD BRING THESE VIRTUES TO THOSE WHO FOLLOW YOUR PATH." Unolas stood tall while the humans rejoiced hysterically.

Finally Aluwen came to speak, and the Elves braced themselves. Her voice was that of the truth. It was not loud or coarse, neither smooth nor rough. It was just a voice - yet it filled the minds of all those who heard her, and bellowed into infinity until the universe itself seemed to creak with the strain.

"The mortals have discovered a great gift through you, yet it is a danger beyond their comprehension. We shall trust to your neutrality and better nature to help them in the ages to come. You are to be one with us."

With that, the wooden podium of Unolas began to change, rising and growing until gold began to shine from it. It shifted slowly to stand beside the others, and a throne grew from it for him to sit at. His form changed, lost its frailty, and he slowly raised himself straight to look down upon his former fellows, the mortals. He spoke with a voice that tasted of the elements, rumbling and rushing in thunder around the hall.

"I... AM A GOD."

Elandria, Zarin, Glydoc and Aluwen looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Aluwen was the first to speak.

"He's got the hang of talking like a pompous ass then."

"HE'S GOT A BIT OF AN EGO."

"IT'S ONLY TO BE EXPECTED, NOT MANY PEOPLE CAN SAY THEY'RE GOD MATERIAL."

The four seemed almost to have forgotten their audience as they started to discuss their newest member in a strangely chatty way, until a disturbance in the great hall caught their attention. A voice emerged from the crowd, slimy and rotten and accompanied by an acrid stench of chemicals.

"I can."

On cue, a sixth pillar began to rise from the marble below, dirtying the silver as it rose to a sooty black. A throne of Jet was mounted upon it, which seemed to suck the life from the air around and deaden the babble of the crowd below. A tall, wirey Orchan lounged on the oily surface of that seat, insolently staring at the Gods as they regarded him in stunned silence.

"I am Selain, and I come to you as a son of the Ebony throne, to tell you I will be king upon the Eternal Lands. I shall suffer none who oppose me and call upon the new god Unolas to follow me, in payment of his debt to Mortos."

There was more stunned silence from the Gods as they turned to the Elven God of Essence and saw a look of understanding spread across his brow.

"Mortos has spent three long centuries helping you to learn your craft Unolas. You shall honour your bond to him."

Aluwen was the first to regain her voice. In a tone breaking with hurt she whispered: "Unolas is this true? In your dreams did you listen to the voice of Mortos? Is this how you gained your power?"

Unolas, shamed, looked to his feet. "IT IS TRUE."

Shouts of anger rose from the floor as the Draegoni, so close to their creator, reflected Glydoc's thoughts, yet the Orchan remained ominously still as Unolas rose from his throne and flew to the throne of Selain to sit by the usurper's right hand.

Selain bared his yellow teeth, daring the other Gods to attack him. None did. "You no longer have power enough to cast us into the pit as you once did Mortos. You have lost both Centau and Dvar from your ranks."

He smiled thinly. "Unolas and I have the powers of magic and alchemy to hand, and we shall spread these among our followers. The power they wield will destroy those few mortals who stand with you."

His eyes seemed to ooze with an oily substance, and his skin was dank and unhealthy, seeming to grow ever more fluid as he spoke. "You have sown the seeds of your own destruction. For your naivety in elevating Unolas, for allowing the essences he has discovered to be used by all, you will be broken."

Selain laid a clammy hand on Unolas' shoulder, and a grubby mist billowed from his mouth, seeming to claw into the very skin of everyone it touched below. The cloud reached a zenith, and with a sodden clap of thunder, they disappeared within it. War had begun.

But even as the princes of every other race screamed in anger and pain, frustration or sadness, according to the thoughts of their gods, the Orchan remained silent. Glydoc, though stunned, was the first to notice their removal from his will. He turned to them.

"WHY DO YOU NOT WEEP MY CHILDREN?" Orchans dropped to their knees across the room as his great mind overpowered them, only to stop, their faces still sallow and drawn when he pulled away in shock and fury.

"TRAITORS, IN MY VERY HOUSE!" In his fury, the god smote every Orchan in the hall, and for the duration of the war that was to come that anger and hurt he suffered from their betrayal would work to Selain's advantage. It would not be until the war neared its end that he discovered the reason for their actions.

It should not be entirely surprising that the Humans are the only ones with anything approaching a complete record of the Great War. They and Elandria kept out of the fighting, refusing to leave their walled cities and abandon the permanence they loved for the death and desolation of the lands around them.

For this they were hated by Glydoc, who bears a grudge to this day for Elandria's refusal to help, and loved by Selain, who saw in Elandria's neutrality the key to his victory.

It should be made clear that at no point did the Gods personally intervene in the fighting. Mortos, Selain and Unolas were constantly aware of the superiority of the greater Gods, while Aluwen, Zarin and Glydoc refused to use their powers for fear of ruining the lands themselves with the conflict. An uneasy divine truce was to prevail throughout the war because of this.

The Dwarves too were neutral in the beginning, having no God to spur them to fight and a natural isolationist streak inherited from Dvar. This left the Satyr, Draegonis, Centaur and Elves fighting an unforgiving horde of Orcs, Ogres and Orchans.

The two continents swiftly divided. Woodland realms were transformed into fortresses of root and branch, while shambling Draegoni cities gained hastily erected walls and fortifications. The Orchans meanwhile took charge over their slower, more vicious Orc cousins, making their home in great halls of the underworld, barricading the entrances against any incursion and abandoning their towns and cities.

The situation was more dire than it seemed for the supporters of Aluwen, for within their ranks lay a horde of spies and subverters built by Selain in his years of preparation. As the war began, Selain's knowledge of troop movements, supply lines and fortifications proved irresistible.

The continent of Irilion fell within months into his hands under the force of pinpoint attacks by the Orchans and abortive counter strikes by the untrained and poorly led Aluwenists, with only a courageous last stand by a force of Draegoni warriors holding the docks long enough for the rest of the army to flee.

At this time a stroke of luck came their way, for they were not immediately pursued. Legends speak of a freak storm that wiped out the Orchan fleet in its moorings, forcing Selain to wait for several weeks while repairs were made. Whether this is true or not, what is certain is the populace of Portland spend one day of every year celebrating the sea.

The continent of Seridia proved a far greater challenge for Unolas, leading an uprising there in Selain's absence. Deprived of the bulk of Selain's armed forces, and with most of the population made up of his enemies, he had few resources to raise insurrection.

Though he had some influence through Selain's network of informers and slaves, Unolas had nowhere near enough troops to take advantage of this, and his efforts to force a quick victory failed when an attack on the port to Isla Prima faltered against massive opposition.

Nevertheless, Unolas made the best of a bad situation. Through his patient tuition of a select group of Orchan Warlocks in the ways of magic, progress was made, and as the last cities of Irilion fell into Selain's hands, Unolas achieved a stalemate. His forces held the North West, the Aluwenists the South East. The Humans, who remained neutral, formed a barrier to both sides in the centre of the conflict by allowing noe to pass through their southern homelands.

The deadlock lasted for a month, with Aluwenist-held Barras (Winkless' note: the bustling port of Barras was later completely wiped out by storms, but used to reside somewhere on the Northwestern coast, beyond the Evergreen Woods) in particular suffering greatly under seige, until an unexpected twist at the beleaguered outpost changed the course of the war. On the last day of autumn a fleet loomed large on the horizon, with patched and broken vessels limping slowly towards the coast.

The starving inhabitants of the town at first feared that Unolas had mustered a great fleet to attack their weak coastal defences, until suddenly Zarin's flag was hoisted, fluttering brightly at the masts of every ship. With a great fanfare and a vital load of supplies the remains of Irilion's Aluwenist army had arrived.

The Orchan forces guarding Barras, led by Unolas himself, were caught completely unaware. Selain's spies had no way of communicating a decision made by Zarin while at sea to change destination and swing around to the North. It was a massacre.

Thousands of well-rested Satyrs, Centaurs and Elves swept through the main gates, smashing into the unprepared enemy camp full of Orcs and Ogres, lounging around just a mile away. So fast was the rush that Unolas himself was caught out, causing a complete rout in his forces as they saw his personal quarters overrun. Immortal, yet shocked beyond reason, Unolas fled in terror, leaving his tomes of magic behind and his Orchan students to be slaughtered.

The capture of Unolas' books of magical learning proved as important as the victory itself, for within them lay 300 years of translated instruction on the magical arts, open now for Elves and Satyr to learn - and learn they did. Zarin helped members of both races to become adept in using powerful essences, creating over the following weeks a small cadre of Wizards taught to the most dangerous standards.

While this teaching went on, the vengeful armies of Irilion marched South, breaking the enemy flank further with every passing day until finally Unolas ordered a full retreat to prepared Orcish defences at Portland, awaiting the advent of Selain and reinforcements.

It would be weeks before Selain's arrival, and over this time the training of the Wizards was completed, but three other happenings would contribute to the outcome of the war while this lull continued.

First was Glydoc's 'Purge of the Undesired', a massive spyhunt which ripped through the ranks of the army, exposing traitors at the highest levels.

Second was a discovery made by interrogators that the hold of Selain over his minions was based on a drug his men had grown dependent on, the ingredients of which were known to him alone. Repeated tests proved this to be true of not only his spies, but of the Orchan peoples as whole.

Captured Orchans told at last of the reason for their betrayal. Agents of Selain had systematically poisoned their water supplies with the drug until male, female and child they became addicted. They had only two choices - keep their counsel and fight for the god, or see their entire race die as one. It was no choice at all. They had swallowed their pride for the sake of their young and infirm, but their hatred of the master ran deep. Without continuous supplies of his drug, Selain could not guarantee the loyalty of his men.

Third, and most important of all, was the coming of Glilin.

A Dwarf in the truest sense, Glilin excelled at craftsmanship in a way not seen since Dvar himself walked above, and had for most of his life ignored the world outside his workshop.

His weapons were world renowned, his tools were to be found nowhere else, and his jewellery was made in such exquisitely fine ways that friends would fight to hold it. Yet as he reached the nadir of his life, Glilin began to notice the inferior quality of the metals his brokers could find for him, and he turned his gaze outwards to the world beyond in anger.

Glilin looked upon the war, and found the cause of this inferior metal to be Orchan work. Controlling Irilion, they owned the ore mines where the best iron was to be found, yet cared little for the process of extracting or smelting it properly. The result was cheap, brittle metal that was simply not usable in his high craft. Glilin decided that this was a cause the Dwarves should fight for, and used his immense influence within the Dwarven community to call a gathering on the subject.

Glilin talked long into the night at this meeting, shouting down agents of Selain who attempted to silence him, and to the surprise of all, including himself, found there to be a huge sympathy for his cause. All the Dwarves had suffered from a lack of usable materials, and a motion was swiftly passed to join the Aluwenists in their struggle.

Within days a flood of high quality ordinance moved from the Greathalls of Nordcarn to the armouries of Zarin and Glydoc. These were closely followed by legions of highly disciplined Dwarves outfitted in heavy armour, carrying near-unbreakable weapons and headed by Glilin himself.

They reached the front lines in time to swing the outcome of the war's deciding battle, at the gates of Portland. The momentous day is described in greater detail in The Story of Folis and Salia, a historical rewriting of theat geat bardic tale, but suffice to say here that Selain's army was beaten - though not broken. The last of the Satyr and the Centaur died on that field, in a tragic but deeply proud moment for both their kinds.

Both sides agreed on an end to the war, which seemed to have ended as a draw, neither side being confident enough to resume hostilities.

Now we come at last to the changing of the lands; to the end of the decimation of the races. We come to the withdrawal of the existing Gods, the creation of a new god of balance. This story is still being written, for it is ours and that of our fathers. I write only two score years after the event, and I remember it well - the aftermath.

Warriors from every race lay dead on the battlefield, heroes and cowards alike. Of a myriad of different peoples who had populated the continents, uncounted numbers were no more. In the very hall where war had inadvertently begun, now empty apart from the Gods themselves, an argument began to rage over the terms of peace.

Mortos, freed at last from his underworld prison by the other Gods to mollify Selain and Unolas, began by essaying a critique of the world. For long hours he charged that the discovery of magic and mass destruction wreaked by Selain's war had irrevocably ruined the lands themselves and nothing would ever be same - thus ruining the point of making it.

Against the wishes of Selain and Unolas, he called for the destruction of the Lands, on the grounds they had become an abomination for not just him, but in the eyes of his fellow Gods.

Although there was some desultory nodding from Unolas, the others rejected his argument as absurd. Aluwen pointed out that the mutation of those original ideas was more in tune with their goal to understand creation than a simple world following them mindlessly could ever be.

They accepted however that Mortos made one valid point. The Gods had been unable to keep any kind of order over their lands, and as Selain and Unolas proved, the supposedly inferior mortals were more than capable of challenging their decisions. With Centau gone, awash in his own madness, there was no-one to argue the case of chaos, and a consensus grew that they needed order.

Both sides eventually agreed to make major changes.

Another God would be made, to create a balance to the two opposed sides. Elandria though neutral was not powerful enough in herself to settle disputes, and besides was still not trusted by Mortos after she had foiled his first plot all those years ago.

The candidates for deification were few. Selain argued a Centaur should be raised, believing them to be the reason for his defeat and thus worthy of his respect. Glydoc argued, more persuasively, for Glilin, whose courage, supreme skills of craft and towering intellect seemed eminently suitable. Selain was further hampered by the death of Folis (see the story of Folis and Salia), who had been the only clear-cut Centaur contender.

Voting was heavily split, but down unexpected lines. Mortos abandoned his prot\'e9g\'e9 Selain to support Glilin's elevation, while Zarin took Selain's side. Unolas refused to involve himself, as did Aluwen who curtly disagreed over the need for a new God but couldn't do anything about it. In the end Elandria went with Glilin, reasoning that his neutrality at the beginning of the war showed a level head.

Her contribution tipped the scales in favour of the Dwarf's elevation, and as the now depleted races of the world began to breathe again on its surface, he survived to become a God. The countless numbers who used to populate the continents are now gone; only a small number remain, picking through the rubble of 10,000 years of wasted endeavour.

The gods would, after this final gesture, withdraw from the day-to-day interference in mortal affairs and simply watch over, observe the unhampered growth of their surprisingly irrepressable offspring. It seemed the only way to ensure their great experiment would evolve.

After the great agreement was concluded, Mortos went back to his domain in the underworld, preferring it to the lands above. Although he seems to have accepted that the lands will never disappear, he continues to hate them, and seeks always to cause as much misery as he can.

We who live in these lands today are descendants of those times passed. I am the last of those who remember - or who spoke to those that did. Though the gods are departed, I still feel something of Elandria within me... My heart stirs at her name.

It seems that of the Gods, most have left happy with the situation as it stands, with two notable exceptions. Aluwen believes that the lands should once more become home to a vibrant kaleidoscope of peoples, and is seeking to improve the lot and share of mortals. Mortos wishes the opposite, and seeks to weaken his perceived enemy - to impose the ultimate order of nothingness on us all...

I hope on hope that they do not intervene, and keep their hands from the sword.