Final Prologue: The Dark Age

The Dark One had the power of a god, but he knew he alone couldn't win a war against the gods, so he traveled far and wide, spreading word of his existence and his goal; a world free of the tyranny of the gods. One by one they joined his ranks, uruk and olog, elves and dwarves, the beast folk; Worgen and Tauren, all non-human races, who had had enough of being abused by them, the children of the gods who wished for a better life: giants and their sisters the fairies; dryads of the forests, sylphs of winds and sky, lamias of fire and flame, mermaids of the seas and valkyries of thunder. And lastly men who wished to be more than mere pawns for cruel gods. With this army, he marched to the castle in the mountain, freed his Fairy, and declared war upon the gods.

With the knowledge of the Dark Soul, he gathered the greatest craftsmen of the world, and learned from them, then in the entrails of the earth he crafted a ring, it looked like a simple gold band, but it was Tikal made of gold, galvorn, and ithildin. Within it, he poured his power, his will, his blood, and his desire to protect that which mattered to him. This treasure was a catalyzer, an artifact for him to channel the magic of the world and use it at will, thus he became the first and greatest of the magic wielders of yore.

He taught blacksmiths how to create blades that would hurt the gods' flesh, and the few gifted with arcane affinity how to wield the magic of the world, and so by his teachings, Valyrian blacksmiths and sorcerers were made. He chose the best warriors among his human followers and shared with them his blood, they became what would be known as Kishin, mortal men who held the power of warrior gods. What started as a small rebellion turned in no time into a full revolution led by a single man and his mate. One day, a shady individual came to them. He was faceless and covered himself with a cloak. He swore his loyalty to them and offered them great gifts. For the Fairy, he presented a scythe, the handle black as ebony and the blade was pale like moonlight. This weapon was crafted from the fang of an arc-dragon and forged by smiths both dwarven and elven, it was beautiful and sturdy, and she named it Aeglaros, The Moon Fang that cuts the Heavens. For the Dark One, he was given a mighty armor, forged in the heart of a dying star that bordered the worlds of light and shadow, wrought from durandal, dragon bone and scales, and demon hearts, and the helm was fashioned like the skull of a fearsome demon, and a sword.

This blade was made with Valyrian Tikal of seven different materials; Belserion's fangs, the heart of a fallen star, ithildin, galvorn, titanite from the heart of the Demon King, arcanitium and durandal, quenched in the blood of the Last Dragon and tempered in his fire. Its blade was black as midnight, in sunlight, the points where steel had been folded over itself shone like embers of sun. And in moonlight, they shone like stars, and though the blade was ever black, the edge shone like pale fire, and the guard was adorned with an Underworld Jewel, the Dark One named it Mordur-El, Wrath of the Dark Star. The shady stranger revealed himself to be the Last Dragon, the crownless prince born of END and Faearha, he offered himself as a mount for him and his Fairy to ride, so that their enemies would flee in despair at their very sight.

Armed with sword and shield of unyielding strength and unmatched power, the Dark One and the Fairy Princess marched leading their army against the gods. By the time they realized the threat these individuals pressed to their rule, it was too late. The legions of the Dark One crushed their own without mercy or compassion, with fairies and sorcerers on his side, they were quickly overpowered. In the end, the Dark One himself faced them in single combat, and a mighty battle was fought for the fate of the world. But the gods did not prevail, and the Dark One stood ready to end the God King's life, but there was something stopping him. For should he slay that powerful being, he would have to replace him, ascending to godhood and ruling over all. This choice was made to him; to end the gods forever, becoming one of them and take their place, or retire, knowing they would never leave the world be, always trying to reclaim it, vindictive and arrogant as they were. But his choice was already made, and the lowered his sword.

"I would rather die as a man who has loved, than live forever as the same being I despise so." He spoke. "But they will still pay for their crimes." And so he summoned his power, and created a barrier that would seal the gods in their realm of the Heavens, now turned into their prison. With his own blood he locked the seal, and he and his army returned to the mortal plane. Knowing he couldn't stay in the continent, he gathered his followers, and after building a fleet large enough to fit them all, he sailed north, farther than anyone ever did before, until he found land. It was smaller than the continent, but large enough to house all those who followed the Dark One, he named this land Ragnaval, and set the races free to establish new kingdoms as they saw fit. But they saw in him a leader, a ruler worth fighting for, killing for, dying for. They bowed to him and hailed as their king, thus he became the Dark Lord, King of Ragnaval and Jailor of the Gods, and the Fairy gladly became his Queen. In his honor, in the beach where he first landed they built a grand castle for him and his Fairy to live which they called Stormcrown Fortress, no small number of them swore to be their servants, around the castle, the capitol city of the new kingdom was founded. In honor of the new king, they named it Shadowfall.

The rulers of the races eventually established kingdoms of their own, swearing to the royal couple as their liege lords. Thus began the Dark Age, and Ragnaval prospered under the rule of the Dark Lord. As the years passed, his Queen gave him three children. The youngest was a fairy with wings of crystal, she was called The Green Lady. And when she came of age, she took her mother´s place as the Fairy Queen. Their second child was a maiden greatly gifted in the arcane arts, as she reached adulthood, she founded her own city of magic; a place of wisdom and knowledge where all who wished to learn all kind of magic arts would be able to. Eventually, she came to be known as the Witch Queen of Araman, as was her city's name.

The eldest of their children was a boy, who was branded by the Dark Spirit's Mark. When the Dark Lord was too old, for he chose to remain a mortal man, he renounced the crown, and placed it upon his son's head. He gave him his ring, his sword and his power, and he departed with his beloved fairy to live the rest of his days in peace. Thus began the dynasty of Dark Lords, always passing the throne to the firstborn son, always to the one chosen by the Spirit trough the Mark. Thus Ragnaval prospered under the Dark Bloodline, and the people lived in peace, wisely putting their trust in their rulers. But uncertain times draw nearer. History turns into legend, legend turns into myth, and people forget that which they shouldn't. Those who fled so long ago will return, and when the time comes when the Dark Bloodline is no longer needed, and those who wait for vengeance seize their chance… Who will save us then?