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An Outline of the Godfall War

We Dance On Dead Gods' Bones

We don't know exactly how the world began. They Some say that the gods created everything. Others claim that the gods sprang from the raw potential of Creation. We don't know whether the gods were there when it all began, or whether they entered the picture later in the day. It doesn't matter, because the gods are all dead.

We're sure about this much: When the gods beheld Creation, they saw that it was good. Creation was so beautiful that in the end, they fought over it. Each of the gods sought dominion over the world's lands, creatures, mysteries and beauties. Leading the hosts of the Eternals (the firstborn immortal champions of the gods), the various deities fought over the world. The primeval war threatened to destroy Creation itself.

Mortals

Rather than see the world they desired despoiled by war, the gods created surrogates for their conflicts: Mortals. The new Mortal servants of the gods would fight the war for dominion of Creation. Crafted from base matter but grafted with an animating soul mirroring that of the Eternals, Mortal-kind would be an amalgam of Spirit and flesh. These new beings would be limited however with the curse of mortality, that the once unceasing battles between the invincible servants of the gods would now be hampered by the frailty of their new warriors. Bred and programmed for servitude and obedience, these Mortals would become a new servant race for their masters.

Worship

The mortal races toiled, fought, and served their masters. Failure was harshly punished, and loyalty rewarded. The mortals held their divine masters and their Eternal servants in awe. Awe would eventually become outright worship, and the discovery of the power of mortal Faith would change everything. With Faith came power, and the gods were swift to seize the new resources available to them. Not only would mortals have to serve the gods as warriors and laborers, but their emotions, their fear, awe, and obedience suddenly became valuable currency to the divine. With a mailed fist, they brought their herds to their strongholds and harvested their blind worship and adulation. Where once the gods fought for dominion over creation, now they fought for the control of their mortal herds, engaging in all out war, destroying and stealing each others’ mortal cattle in order to attain what they saw as ultimate power: Faith.

Dissension among the Host

The Eternals, firstborn of the gods, were divided by this new development. The vast majority was still unquestionably loyal to the gods, but among a significant number, dissension began to spread among their ranks. Some grew jealous of the attentions lavished upon the mortals by the gods, seeing the secondborn as weakling usurpers, contemptible worms that the masters irrationally deemed important. A number reveled in their newfound dominion over the lesser secondborn. Deep in their hearts, they dreamed of mastery. If we can rule over mortals like the gods rule over us, then may we not rise to the station and mastery of the gods themselves? Others were troubled by the changes wrought upon the gods by the Faith of mortals. Where once the gods were cosmic, immortal powers, now they seemed transformed into petty lordlings and ladies, like supremely powerful children fighting over scraps.

The Liberators

Most significantly, a number of Eternals grew to pity the mortals. Viewing the mortal races like younger siblings, Eternal spirits trapped in bodies of matter, doomed to divine servitude and death, these Eternals were appalled by the plight of their lesser brethren. Pity for the mortals gradually grew into contempt for their masters.

Secretly, this disaffected faction, calling themselves the Liberators, established contacts with a few mortals. The Liberators taught the mortals of their creed of freedom against oppression, as well as educating those who would listen of the rudiments of civilization, bringing the light of reason to the slaves of the gods. In secret, the Liberators and their mortal partners worked wonders. Legends speak of the first true cities crafted by mortal and immortal hands in concert, sublime citadels, spires, and minarets. In sunless depths, Eternal artificers taught mortals the art of shaping steel, silver, gold, and adamant, fashioning matchless weapons and panoplies of armor that were as much works of art as they were implements of warfare.

The Liberators objective was to prove that Mortal kind, Eternal, and hopefully, gods, could co-exist without oppression or tyranny.

The Godfall War

In time, the Liberators and those mortals who joined them were discovered. Many among the Eternal Host and the mortal herds were shocked to discover that there were some among their number who actually dared conceive rebellion against the gods and their established order. The Liberators and their allies were rounded up, their works destroyed, and their execution made public as a warning.

The Liberators went to their ends proudly, defiant and sure of the righteousness of their cause. Their deaths served only to as inspiration for further rebellion. Across the world, dozens of uprisings sprang up as disaffected mortals and rebellious Eternals made war against the gods and their loyalist Hosts.

Mortal humans were the first to rise, followed by dissidents among the honorable dragonborn. Some would declare their neutrality, such as the eldariel servants of the Horned Lord, god of the natural order. Though the vast majority of the mortal herds turned against their masters, others, such as the lorldly tieflings, favored children of the Iron-Handed God, stood steadfast in their loyalty.

Still, even with all their fervor, the rebels in their uncounted hordes were no match for the loyalists, even with the assistance of a new generation of Liberators fighting by their side. The superior forces of the Loyalists were overwhelming the Free.

Godslayers

Uriah the Betrayer would change everything. The human beloved of the goddess of Destiny, Uriah turned upon his beloved, and with a mighty artifact, the Betrayer slew Destiny. The echoes of this deed would rock the foundations of Creation. Uriah had shown that the gods could be killed. With the proper magics, and mighty works of artifice, even an immortal could be laid low. The gods and their loyalists were stunned. The Free were galvanized. The Liberators and the Free rebels unleashed weapons of devastating power, searing the land unto bare rock, boiling seas from the face of the earth, unleashing radiant firestorms of godslaying wrath. One after another, the gods fell to the blades of the Liberators: The Healer, the Shining Lord Sinaghari, and the Horned Lord, to name but a few. All across the world, the Loyalists were pushed back, until the last bastion of the divine stood at the Shadowed Mountain, fortress of the Iron-Handed God.

At the Shadowed Mount, we killed the gods. Each and every single one of them. Millions of mortals threw themselves into the crucible of battle. To the last, the Liberators stood against the Loyalists, holding off the immortal hosts and trusting to the mortals to win their freedom. When the dust cleared, the gods were destroyed, but at grievous cost. The Liberators and Loyalists had all but exterminated each other. Mountains of fallen dead, both Faithful and Free rose in the battlefield. The final, searing finale of the Song of Destruction rocked all of creation and shattered the ancient citadels of the divine.

Aftermath

We killed the gods. We didn’t know it would lead to an eternity of chaos as the natural order collapsed. Storms rode across entire continents. The earth split asunder and spat fire. The waters roiled with poison and the carnage of war, famine, and pestilence. Untold numbers died in the cataclysms that followed the Godfall. The spark of the divine had left Creation.

The Present

Relics of a time when gods walked the earth still remain. Mighty ruins that were once strongholds of the Liberators and Loyalists await the proper signs that they might divulge their treasures.

Not all of the Eternal Host were destroyed at Kal Dathra. Many have sworn vengeance against mortal kind and seek to destroy us with a ravening hunger. They call themselves demons. Others believe that now is their time of glory. With their old masters dead and gone, these devils now scheme to ascend to the divine thrones. Driven mad by the sundered natural order, the fey spirits unleash blessings and curses, their grace and their fury as fickle as the chaos winds.

Great rifts tear at the fabric of creation as the astral dominions of the gods stand empty. Energies leak into creation from the Feywild and Shadow, giving birth to strange, warped abominations. At the edge of reality itself, titan monstrosities known as the farspawn seek to undo the very weave of Creation in order to return the universe into the long night.

Centuries later, odd crystal formations would be discovered throughout the world. They thrummed with power unseen for generations. With the proper rituals, these crystals could be tapped for energy. Some believe that these are the bones of the dead gods. Wars are fought over these crystals. Nations are born and die by their power. We dance on the bones of dead gods, drinking of their lost power.

Some gather these crystals for temporal power. Others believe that balance can be restored to the world by bringing the godstones together and reviving the old gods. Still others believe that the godstones are the keys to divine ascension.

The heirs of the Liberators seek to stamp out the last vestiges of the divine and teach the Secondborn to proudly stand on their own feet. The Redeemers seek to reawaken the dead gods in order to rekindle the ancient golden days before the chaos of the Godfall. Others seek only to bring stability and peace to a world spiralling towards universal chaos and destruction.

Say what you will. It does not matter how badly the odds are stacked against us. We killed the gods before. We can do it again if necessary.

Tales of the Godfall War:

The Shame of the Mandrakori

The dragonborn, known as the Mandrakori, played a critical role in the Godfall War, but they will not speak of the circumstances of their entry into the Godfall War; or the reasons for the antagonism between the tiefling and Mandrakor; nor the undying emnity that the true dragons hold for the Mandrakor, the mortal children of the Emperor Wyrm.

The Emperor Wyrm was the epitome of honor, glory, pride, and justice. A mighty god of battle and discipline, the Emperor Wyrm was one of the most powerful forces in the many wars between the gods. A force for good and decency, the Emperor Wyrm held many of the other gods, especially the enslavers, in great contempt. The mightiest of the Emperor Wyrm's exarchs were the great dragons, the firstborn of the dragon god. The Mandrakori, known in modern times as the dragonborn, were the Wyrm's second-born, the Wyrm's own mortal children who bore in their souls a reflection of the Emperor Wyrm's own divine spark. Where the other gods kept their mortal servants as chattel or slaves, the Mandrakori were treated as warriors. Expendable and replaceable, perhaps, but servant-soldiers of the Wyrm, treated with respect and honor.

When the Liberators began their revolt, the Emperor Wyrm took no sides in the conflict, and would not explain himself to his exarchs and trusted servants. Many among the dragons and Mandrakori wondered and debated. The Mandrakori saw the plight of the other mortal races and knew that the Wyrm seethed at the great injustices perpetrated by the other gods. The dragons, however, knew the bonds of brotherhood, loyalty, and honor that bound the Emperor Wyrm to the other gods.

The Liberators sought the aid of the Emperor Wyrm and his children, for they knew the Wyrm's reputation as a stern, but just being. If a god and his servants could be brought to their side, then it would be a mighty coup for the Liberator cause.

The Mandrakori sought audience with the Emperor Wyrm and presented him with the Liberator offer, while the dragons watched in silence. The Emperor Wyrm responded to the Mandrakori with a cryptic reply: "What do you hold most dear? Justice, or honor? My heart cries for justice, while my soul steels itself for honor. Though I grieve for the sufferings of the mortal races, I cannot turn against my bretheren. Honor demands that I stand with the gods. What then does justice demand of you, my children?"

The lords of the Mandrakori pondered the question. As one, they turned against their progenitor, and as the dragon exarchs looked on in shock, the Mandrakori slew the Emperor Wyrm. The dragons and Mandrakori turned on each other, and almost en masse, the dragonborn defected to the cause of the Liberators.

This act of patricide has tainted the history and the racial psychology of the dragonborn since then. Creatures of honor, integrity, and discipline, they nevertheless live with the stain of ancient treachery. Their elders, the dragon exarchs bear an eternal hate for the traitors that slew the Emperor Wyrm, and many of the Redeemers bear a special hatred for the Mandrakori, whose warrior ranks served the core of the Liberator forces.

The Dragonborn as a whole are taught by their culture to value honor and duty, and are taught the story of the fall of the Emperor Wyrm as a parable, and as a moral dilemma. Often, as a right of passage, young dragonborn are told of the tale of the Emperor Wyrm and are asked what they would do in the Wyrm's place, in the place of his dragonborn lieutenants, and the dragon exarchs. he dragonborn do not normally speak this tale to outsiders. The only non-dragonborn to have heard the tale are trusted friends and allies, as well as particularly persistant and thorough scholars.

A mystery still surrounds the final death of the Emperor Wyrm however. When the Mandrakori slew the Emperor Wyrm, the mightiest of war gods offered no resistance to his children. In the seat of his power, protected by the most potent of wards, the Emperor Wyrm should have been untouchable, and yet the lords of the Mandrakor slew the Wyrm without any impediment. The dragon god offered no resistance, and merely waited, meek as a lamb, as his children approached. The dragon god made no outcry of pain or suffering as he died. A final note is worth mentioning concerning the fall of the Emperor Wyrm and the Shame of the Mandrakori: Though the Liberators approached the Mandrakori, they did not supply them with Godslayer weapons or the secrets of their creation. The Emperor Wyrm was slain with mortal steel and sinew. How then was this possible?

Post-Godfall tales:

The Rise and Fall of Tarkonis

The rise and fall of the Mandrakori nation known as Tarkonis is something of a textbook example of the lifecycle of the many successor states to the Divine Imperium.

Founded by the Mandrakori, the city-state of Tarkonis rose to prominence roughly 350 years after the Battle of the Shadowed Mount. Its rise to power coincided with the discovery of the first of the known Godstones, the so-called Healer's Fist, a crystal shard that emitted a lambent blue glow and as tall as a man, the stone's glassy knobs and protrusions reminiscent of a clenched fist. A company of Mandrakori, steeped in their race's Liberator tradition, fought their way past the Redeemer cadre that had unearthed the stone. The Liberator commander, intent upon the stone's destruction, whipped his troops into a state of battle frenzy, and the outnumbered Mandrakori launched a brutal assault that exterminated the Redeemer force, but also exacted a heavy blood price from the Liberators. Mortally wounded, the Mandrakori warlord crawled before the stone, raised a trembling blade with his mangled claws to destroy the relic, and then collapsed into the darkness.

The Mandrakor awakened and steeled himself to complete his mission. He felt no regret, no fear, no pain, as he raised his arm to sunder the stone. And then the warlord noticed his arm was whole. The fingers that had been amputated by the battle-crazed Baalim were healed, and wrapped tight around his blade's grip. His broken ribs no longer pained him with each breath and his wounds were closed. The Mandrakor stood up and saw that many of his own companions had also magically cheated death. The risen Mandrakori stood in awe of the stone's power.

The survivors conferred among themselves, and their commander came to this conclusion: The stone could be an enormous force for good, in worthy hands. The few voices who tried to stay true to their old Liberator ideals eventually caved in to the majority. These Mandrakor defected from their old allegiances and founded the city-state of Tarkonis based on the power of the Healer's Fist.

The original company of dragonborn may have abandoned their hard-line Liberator allegiances, but they did not abandon the ideals that formed the core of the first few Liberators that dared defy the Gods and stand up for the oppressed mortals. Defend the weak, liberate the oppressed, and bend the knee to none that pretends to be higher than you. Strengthened by the healing magics of the Tarkonis Godstone, these dragonborn marshalled a potent force under their banner and proceeded to war against the evils that they percieved around them, banishing the Infernal Prince Ghul-Drefar, scattering the Redeemer Cult of the Wyrm's Vengeance, and sealing a rift that led past the Walls of Night into the realms of dread Father Chaos. Freely offering the magic of the Healer's Fist, the proud warriors of Tarkonis did not lack in those who sought to join their cause.

The Second Imperium?

The power of Tarkonis rose to its highest point roughly fifty years after its founding, when a new generation of Mandrakori took up the reins of power. These heirs to the founding warriors of Tarkonis were raised in the glory days of the city-state's great exploits, and could not help but strive to match the exploits of the founders.

Waging battle against battle against the surrounding realms, the lords of Tarkonis began to subjugate other cities, "for the greater good". Confident in their manifest destiny as inheritors of the glory of Tarkonis and their inherent right to power and majesty, the heirs of Tarkonis began to move away from the Liberator ideals of its founders. Those few dissenting voices were silenced, sometimes forcefully, by those who now ruled the fledgling empire. Eventually, those who began to profess Liberator ideals were purged by the lords of Tarkonis and forced into hiding, with the society of Tarkonis divided between those who ruled, and those who sought a return to the ideals of the Founding. The lords of Tarkonis ever tried to exterminate the Liberator dissidents, but never fully succeeded, using them as bogeymen to keep the populace in line while conquest after conquest brought in wealth to the center of the empire and the Healer's Fist brought health and vitality to those who swore allegiance to Tarkonis.

Some began to whisper that Tarkonis itself might become heir to the power of the gods themselves and the glory of the Divine Imperium.

The Wyrm's Vengeance

Four and a half centuries after the fall of the Shadowed Mount, Tarkonis stood at the cusp of becoming a true empire, it's reach expanding beyond its few vassal cities. But rot festered within the halls of Tarkonis. Its people had grown complacent, fat, and lazy. Confident in their manifest destiny, bolstered by the power of the Healer's Fist, the lords of Tarkonis believed that none could stand against their invincible might. What other force could banish the Infernal Prince Gul-Drefar, or seal the gates through the Walls of Night? What other army could claim to have halted the ravages of the implacable Nagthari, the servants of the Daystar?

Surrounded by wealth and opulence, few listened to the warning words of the few Liberator dissidents, and fewer still had any inkling of the quiet infiltration of the Cult of the Wyrm's Vengeance. A Redeemer cult sworn to avenge the Emperor Wyrm, the Wyrm's Vengeance slowly but surely infiltrated the ranks of Tarkonis' nobility.

Tarkonis was unprepared when the moment came for the cult to unleash the Wyrm's Vengeance. They struck when Tarkonis was at its most vulnerable. Its armies were marshaled against the Nagthari, it's people fat, complacent, sleepy, and wine-drunk after festival when the Redeemers struck. The Redeemers burst into the Citadel of the Healer's Fist and struck down many of the unwary guards. Still, the discipline of Tarkonis' warriors, few that they were, might even then have won the day. As the Redeemers reeled from the valiant defense, the sons of Tarkonis believed then that they might be victorious. And then, a mighty blast of flame incinerated the vanguard of the Citadel's defenders. There came the sound of a mighty beating of wings, and then the baleful red dragon, Malathras of the Cleansing Fire, unleashed his fury upon Tarkonis, sons of the traitorous Mandrakor, heirs to their ancient betrayal. Malathras swept aside all that stood in his way and entered the Sanctum of the Fist. Within the holy of holies, Malathras enacted a great ritual that burst the arcane defenses of the Healer's Fist and wrested the Godstone from the grasp of the Hospitaller of Tarkonis. Malathras took up the Fist from the cold, dead hands of the Hospitaller and smiled as he unleashed the Wyrm's Vengeance.

Purple arcs of wild magic coursed through the Healer's Fist and arced outwards, spreading throughout the lands of Tarkonis. The energies raced towards all those that had known the healing touch of the Fist, and in that single moment, all their healing was undone. Warriors screamed in agony as severed limbs slid of their stumps and great wounds opened on their bodies. Women and children writhed in pain as every single disease that had been cleansed once again ravaged their flesh. Those who had been raised up from beyond the realms of death were drained of vitality and reduced to empty husks that hungered for life force.

In one night, Malathras of the Cleansing Fire toppled the greatest of the Successor States to the glory of the Imperium. In one moment of terror, pain, and agony, a hundred years of Empire were overturned by the power of a single Godstone. Those who lived through that night say that the Red Wyrm perched upon the highest of the spires of fallen Tarkonis and roared out a great cry of sorrow for his fallen lord, the Emperor Wyrm, and a song of triumph at the bloody vengeance he had wreaked upon the sons of the betrayers.

The people of Tarkonis are scattered and devastated, but its legacy lives on. The scattered sons and daughters of the empire recall the glory days when the Mandrakori of Tarkonis brought justice and peace to the surrounding lands, and the dream of empire still beckons to those who saw what could be achieved with the power of a single Godstone. The name of Tarkonis is still a rallying cry to those who remember its mercy, and those who remember its ruthlessness.

As for Wyrm's Vengeance, the cult itself lives on, continuing to infiltrate Liberator and Successor kingdoms, attempting to sabotage them and spirit away their godstones to their own inscrutable ends. It is said that Malathras of the Cleansing Fire stalks the land still, dread and mighty, and with the power of the Healer's Fist, they claim that the Cleansing Fire is unstoppable.

Those who hunt Malathras seeking treasure or vengeance point out that many once said that Tarkonis itself was invincible...