A young Evander Drayton clashed swords with a creature corrupted by a powerful dark magic. A once peaceful member of demon kind now turned vile by the cruel, boastful and arrogant Lord Varamont. A title he bestowed upon himself. The creature had been tortured until the demonic spirit it once was had been forcefully replaced by the abyss.
Evander was joined by his father, Edmond the King's Hunter, an elite ranger and stealth weapon in service to all the kingdoms of the High Realm of Man; his mother Cassandra, a cunning warrior who had made her mark as a powerful ally to the kingdoms; Den Emberbasher, a dwarven blacksmith that took up arms when Varamont began massing his armies; Leo Garbrook, his childhood friend, a tall human set on serving his king in the King's Guard.
They fought together alongside the rest of Monmarolin's inhabitants of Elves, Dwarves and Mankind against the sadistic Lord Varamont and his twisted abyssals.
The war raged on for four years from 1136 to 1140, blood was spilled on all sides. The lush green continent had been stained black from their blood and the fires of war.
After the long grueling years, their luck began to change from the struggle of maintaining the line to the possibility of victory. Over those four awful years, thousands of lives were lost and that is not including the lives that had been stolen beforehand when the demon race was forcefully enslaved by the abyss.
Towards the final days of the war, Varamont became increasingly desperate. His numbers were slowly dwindling before him and he refused to be defeated by these lesser creatures. He who had spent centuries perfecting his magical abilities. How is it possible? They could never even imagine having the power that he so meticulously created.
On the final day of this great continental-wide war, the four kingdoms, the Elves of Avendia, the Dwarves of the Iron Isle Mountains had the abyss-soaked demon wizard surrounded. His abyssals defeated. No one but him remained.
"The war is over. It ends today, Varamont," the king of the largest castle out of the four, King John spoke his name with hatred. He stepped forward, raising his greatsword over his head, ready to bring it down on the crouching wizard.
"You...small-minded creatures," Varamont's words were like poison as they dripped from his mouth. "You think...you have won." A thin laughter escaped him, "You have only...postponed your enslavement." Even from his position on the ground, crouched on one knee, he would not give up. "You cannot kill me...I will be your master."
Before King John could react, Varamont stood. His pitch black cloak billowing out in the calm wind. His black and blood-red eyes burned with the fire of hatred and insanity. They sat enshrouded by a skull with black skin stretched too tightly over it.
Without warning, he buried his fists into the earth and for a moment, nothing happened and all was still. Then the ground rumbled and shook. Small rocks bounced excitedly all around them. With a terrifying loud crack that pierced the silence, four splits appeared beneath in the blood-soaked soil, each one going in a cardinal direction.
Edmond backed away from the crack that appeared directly beneath him. "What the hell is he doing?" he screamed over the cacophony that had suddenly roared to life.
His rhetorical question was answered shortly after it left his lips when the cracks loudly and aggressively widened. The cracks became ravines which then continued to widen and deepen until it completely split the continent apart.
Entire forests were swallowed up by the hungry earth, mountains split and collapsed, and people fell forever.
Once everyone thought it was over, Varamont brought his piercing hate-filled gaze up to them and smiled a wicked grin, "You pathetic creatures."
With a sudden and final display of his incredible power, he fed all of his life into his abyss and filled the ravines with it. In doing so, Varamont destroyed his physical body and his abyss used it to create the thick black ocean of dark corruption that remains to this day.
From that day, Monmarolin was never the same. Families were ripped apart and many more lives had been lost. The war that killed so many and decimated the land had become known as the War of the Lost.
And that was the war that split the world.
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