Writers Note: This is an Overwatch Fanfic set in an AU universe. This honestly has little to do with the Overwatch timeline and is based on a dream I had last night that I decided to hash out. This will represent OW characters and an OOC. Hope you enjoy.
Long before recorded history, four kingdoms stood.
To the north stood the Kingdom of Ivory, a haven for humans to exist peacefully amongst one another. The largest of the four kingdoms in all, with what was thought to be the most powerful army of all the kingdoms. A kingdom both feared and respected for having been the sole kingdom to have slain the dreaded dragons that plagued the peaceful lands.
To the west, the Elvish Kingdom. A place for all the races of Elves to coexist, though segregated into ranks. High Elves taking the highest tiers of the community, dictating life and governing the use of magic. Wood Elves and Light Elves amonst the army and working class, and the Dark Elves pushed into slavery to those of the higher races.
To the East, The Kingdom of Faeth. This was a place of religion, of where all the Gods and Goddess' were worshiped, where their teachings resided. While they held no army, they were the voice of reason between the kingdoms, a place of neutral ground where Kings of waring lands would meet for truce and treaty. Many would set out in pilgramage to this holy land to become men of the Faeth, to be set in light in the eyes of the one God all prayed to, Ocarus. All except one kingdom.
The Obsidian Kingdom, recently renamed the Kingdom of Shadow set deep in the far south. Where the ruling God was named, Azrail. The God of Death. This was once a magnificent kingdom that was respected in it's own rights. Despite it's name, it was where many came every year to honor those that passed. This kingdom was considered the guards of the Gate to the Underworld, the closest one could get to speaking to their lost loved ones. Tributes were made every year to keep the God of Death satisifed, for fear he may rise his army to take over the land of the living.
Then tensions between the Obsidian Kingdom and the Kingdom of Ivory grew and the Great War began. Three generations passed, the war never seemed to have an end, many died for a war they did not understand. Until the war reached home and the Obsidian Kingdom fell, taken over by Ivory King. Those that still nowed to the former king were killed, thrown in a mass grave, while the rest was forced into submission, sent to work for it's new king.
Rumours flew through the kingdom like wildfire about the King of Death. That he was beheaded before his loyal subjects, before they were too killed. That somehow he escaped the clutches and lives in fear for what his loyal subjects would be if they discovered him, cowering in fear of the Ivory King. Some even say he was taken prisoner, used as a personal jester for the royal court. Others believe he is out there, plotting his revenge. Whatever the truth, the Kingdom of Shadow slowly faded into a distant memory and any whisper of the kingdom was taken as an act of treason against the Ivory Kingdom.
Anyone seeking the truth of the Kingdom of Shadow would be quickly disheartened along their journey. All roads passing towards the kingdom were destroyed, what was one royal highways were slowly covered with trees and grass. The mountain passes were soon covered in snow, rockslides filling any ravine towards the safer paths and the kingdom itself was said to have been destroyed.
All those remaining living, now fears that Azrail will wake from his slumber and take revenge on his kingdom being destroyed. There are some who still make the journey to the edge of the Forest of Riella, the Goddess of the forest, to pay tributes that they would've paid in the Shadow Kingdom. All in the hopes that Azrail would be satisfied.
A long ten years passed since the fall of the kingdom, all rumours of the king fell silent, all fear of the God Azrail waking from his slumber were put to rest and life seemed to move on.