The Hag's Contract

Threescore generations have passed since that impossible day when six gods sacrificed themselves to destroy one of their own and the bloodlines were born.

Mount Deismaar

Cerilia, Year Zero

The human tribes—my ancestors—moved up into the wilderness of Cerilia from the southern continent of Aduria, dragging their gods with them. Crossing a land bridge now hidden deep under the waves of the Straits of Aerele, they found seemingly limitless land in which to grow and prosper. So, too, did they find desperate enemies and the evil agents of the very god from whom they fled—the Shadow, Azrai.

Years of war and bloodshed followed, and Azrai gained in followers among those seeking to protect their ancestral lands. The Shadow made converts even among the reclusive elves, who first welcomed the newcomers to Cerilia, but soon grew wary of their expansion. As dark forces grew to both the north and south, the human tribes were forced together and went to war as allies in the War of Shadow.

Like their human followers, Anduiras, god of war and nobility; Reynir, goddess of the woods and streams; Brenna, goddess of commerce and fortune; Vorynn, lord of the moon and magic;

Masela, the lady of the seas; and Basaïa, queen of the sun, joined the fight against the Shadow, Azrai. Lines were drawn, champions chosen … blood spilled.

Until they all came to face each other at the foot of Mount Deismaar. Those who survived did not have words to describe the explosive burst of energy—the power no mortal should ever have been exposed to—and the mountain was gone. With it, to oblivion, went Azrai and the other gods—all of them. Six destroyed themselves to destroy one, for the sake of millions of suffering mortals and the future of Cerilia.

But what happens when man and elf, goblin and dwarf are showered with the essence of the gods? This instant of destruction became an instant of creation, and the bloodlines of Cerilia were born. Some, bathed in the glory of the likes of Anduiras, became great heroes, champions of justice. Others, corrupted by the malignant power of Azrai, became hideous monsters, abominations—awnsheghlien.

A dozen years of chaos passed in the wake of Deismaar. The champions of the dead gods, now possessed of supernatural powers of their own, fed on the empowered blood of the other survivors in the brutal practice of bloodtheft. From this chaos, the Empire of Anuire was born and some measure of peace came to Cerilia.

Then, like all things, the Anuirean Empire came to an end. Some say the true spirit of the empire never really survived the death of its founder, Michael Roele, less than half a century after his rise to power. Still, what remained of the empire held sway over Cerilia for nearly a millennium, and then was gone. On the ruins of the empire grew the beginnings of the Cerilian kingdoms of today, our own among them. Led by the descendants of the survivors of Deismaar, these kingdoms hold the future of Cerilia in their unsteady hands.

Who will be the next Roele?

What will be the next Anuire … the next Deismaar?

We, the people of Cerilia, tempered by our unimaginable past, look toward our future with fear … and with hope.