A century ago, the calm of the world was shattered by the rising to power of the great sorceress Irin. Claimed by no race, she spoke to all creatures as if they were of her own kind.

Through her own charisma, promises of power, appeals of peace, and above all else her unbiased outlook, she cultivated a faction that could ally all species under her rule. In this fashion, Irin gathered a following in the world, larger than many of the kingdoms of men and it was assumed she was creating her own. The four races of the world did not realize until war was upon them that the kingdoms she wanted were theirs.

Irin’s followers, proudly bearing her sign of the white eye, swept across the land as her army leaving two options to the peoples they encountered: allegiance or war. Those who defied her lost, battle after battle, and her forces grew until it seemed none could stand against her. Fearing for their freedom, the four races met in council and it was decided that the only hope left was for the races to ally, Elves, Dwarves, Dakini, and Humans alike, in a final stand against the sorceress’s common evil.

That final stand of the four races was fought on the threshold of Irin’s encroaching territory in a last desperate attempt to halt her progress. For the only time in any memory, all kinds stood together as kin to fight, all remaining predilections cast aside the good of the free. Elf struck down Elf, Dwarf slew Dwarf, Dakini cast their own to the ground and Man killed his brother, for then all that existed was not races, but was the legions of betrayers led by Irin and those who strove to stop her at any cost. But it was all for naught, for Irin had a great and terrible secret.

When soldiers on either side of that great battle were struck down, they rose up again, frozen on the edge of the dark abyss of death and belonging completely to the enemy of the races. The fallen became her puppets with minds that did not think, open wounds that did not bleed, not alive and not yet dead, controlled by the dull orange pulse behind their eyes. The brave opposition was forced to slaughter their own comrades, only to watch them rise again and again.

Irin had learned how to halt death, freeze the dying mind, and turn the body into a weapon that could not be destroyed. Never had such power been seen, on any of the battlefields of the world, and the last army of the free could not stand against it. Decimated, the force that was meant to stop her conquest fell back and retreated. Irin watched, and she let them go.

For because of the warrior puppets, Irin’s forces were large enough to suppress uprising all over the land. She went though her army and picked out the most flawed of these controlled creatures from which she withdrew her power, letting them die. She enchanted the battleground that the fatal struggle was fought upon, allowing the bones of the dead themselves serve as a warning to those who would cross over it and into her lands to challenge her. None had the strength left to try.

In despair and desperation, the defeated people called upon the prophets of the city of Kelos for aid. What, they asked of the oracles, could be done to defeat this terrible, powerful opponent? She had laid waste to their armies and stolen their allies to be her own. What could be done against her? And the prophets answered.

They spoke of hope for the world in the form of four warriors, once from each of the four races. Each of these would be adept in the magic of one of the four elements. It would be these heroes together, the prophets said, that would be strong enough to free the world from the sorceress Irin’s reign and free the dying bound as her slaves. And so, the people waited.

But their heroes never came.