"Many thousands of years ago, when our ancestors still rode the steppes far to the east and did not know our gods, when arrows were bone and knives were stone, the north was cold but peaceful. No winds blew through the sky bearing magic, and below the sky no daemons walked and no men could swear themselves to vile gods for power. Even the gods slept as much as they woke, and did not intervene in men's lives except when dearly beseeched in times of great trouble. No one walked north, for there was nothing but ever-winter and death, but on a high mountain you could see the plains of white stretch on beyond the horizon, with no horrors or blights in sight. We called ourselves Scythians, and our lives were simple and poor but untroubled."

"But one day, a gate the gods had built together in the uttermost north was shattered by a falling star, and from the cage erupted hell itself. The pure whiteness of the snow turned to roiling purple and rotten green, bloody red and fiery blue. And the star fell further through hell and shattered the other side of the world, and as it emerged, there was not a pure white star but a baleful green moon, shattered and spewing pieces that landed all across the land, and warped those who came near even if they were far from the north. Its light cast deadly shadows and so we call it Tenevluna and it harries us to this day."

"The first to hear hell awakening was Ursun, stirred from his mighty sleep by his domain being attacked, and every bear in the north let out a mighty roar at once and prepared to guard its territory. But he did not have a people, and so no one heeded his warning, not even the other gods. Only when the tide of hell's mutation stretched far enough from the open gates that it settled enough for hell's spirits to charge out did the world take notice. The men of the steppe called out to the wind, and he answered with a trumpet that woke his wife and her brothers, and the men from Norvard to the Mountains of Mourn turned north and drew their blades against threats they did not understand. Tor's men raised hammers and a storm began to gather; Dazh's men shook their swords and watched the Arari appear in the day; the wind's men readied their bows as he made their horses swift, and his wife and their sister, who was Ancient even then, called for the women to take up knives and spears, and to look north with keener eyes."

"They fought alone, for none knows how long, and many died to the things that came from hell. Eventually it came to pass that they could see they were losing, and the wind turned south to call to every southern god that if the north fell, so would they. Morr came out of his dark realm with his scythe and looked north, but he saw no way to victory and chose not to defy fate. Taal looked out from the warm forests and commanded Hell to stop encroaching on nature which was his, but it was far in the north and his reach never stretched that far. Manann raised the waves against the tide of horrors, but it did not help the men on shore. Ranald listened, but he sought to look behind the gates rather than fight what came from them. And in the east the Queen of the Moon raised mountains to shelter the south from hell, but we Scythians were too far north and stood without her."

"The only one to listen to the wind was Morr's wife Verena, and when he refused to go at her urging also, she stole his sword from its scabbard and went north alone on a horse borrowed from the wind. And when they saw the light of truth and order glow from the sword in her hands atop the mountains, Morr and Taal and their families followed them. The clamor of war disturbed the dwarfs in their tunnels, and the Ancestor Gods stood and built walls for the Scythians to stand on and Grimnir the Slayer charged forward, fighting as fiercely as any god. Across the sea, Manann woke the elves to the danger, and on dragon-back they flew behind their hundred gods with Dazh's cousin Asuryan the Phoenix leading them and Hekarti the Hydra watching from the northern shores."

"Now that the south had joined them, the gods and men of the north began to find victory against the hordes. But hell's land was still spreading, and they could see that the daemons grew stronger when they fought on their own soil. Nothing gods or men did could hold back the slow tide of mutant land, and none believed men could live on it. The Ancient Wife, though, was cunning and far-sighted, and she saw that the energies of hell were in the sky, free of their control. She bade her husband the wind speak to the Queen of the Moon and Hekarti the Hydra, and between the three of them they seized the new winds, the winds of magic, and began to spin it into thread - eight gleaming colors of it, each spun into its own nature that was not the nature of Hell. And as they spun it into thread and rope, the wind seized it and tied it to the back of his horse, and he spun around the world, weaving a great whirlpool of a net to bind hell with its own substance. Ursun and Morr, Asuryan and Grimnir, all could see that it was working, and rallied their fellows and their followers, and victory seemed at hand."

"But as he got closer to the gates, the wind saw Ranald fleeing southward. He called out to him for help, for Ranald is very cunning and makes excellent traps, but was refused and ignored, for Ranald is a coward. And when the wind got above the gate, within sight of what lay within, he saw what all had feared but none had known: that hell had its own fell gods. They erupted from the gate and tore the wind apart, and the net began to fray, and as he died he cursed Ranald for not warning him, which is why his widow and her brothers shun the Trickster. The net stayed strong, and the barriers of hell receded, but with the Gods of Za in the world, stronger than any other as long as they stood on their own soil, it could never be finished or repaired. Chaos receded back towards the gates, and advances ever slowly, but it ever advances. And as the magic unleashed from hell faded, so too did the gods, which is why they slumber again to this day; resting from a partial victory, a holding back of the tide, as we fight every generation ourselves in their name."