For generations the younger races of Kantaras huddled in fear as a great war played out around them. They cowered as their gods wared amongst themselves on and above their world. The huddled in fear as powerful elder magic tore through the earth and sky. They watched as the Elder races marched off to war. Soon even many of the younger races were pressed into service in a war they did not understand. Then one day the world grew silent, the great storm clouds created by the vast outpourings of magic dissipated. Though the terror created by the great war had passed, in its wake great and powerful creatures emerged, weapons forged for war and then abandoned by their masters. Though life on Kantars was no less deadly, it had become less intimidating and as so often happens with the passing of generations, history became legend, gods once so very real became faceless deities and a source of religious power and control.