Permission to use gained from artist, who would prefer to remain anon.
- Eons ago, our world was flat and undistinguished. There was no variety, no life, and no culture. The rich world we live in today was barren and cold. And then the giants came. Like mountainous conquerors, they set their camp down on that cold, barren wasteland and began to do what conquerors do best. They fought. And their long, brutal war soaked the ground in the blood of giants, giving life where there was once none. From their blood grew grass and herbs. Trees almost as tall as the giants themselves took root and shaped boundless forests and jungles. Fallen giants would break open the earth and mold abyssal canyons from stone. From their buried dead came mountains, deserts came from their ashes. Rivers, lakes, and oceans forged from their tears.
And then the king of the giants broke open the world's core with his spear and gave us magic, creating the Void of Stars, a very perilous abyss filled to the brim with magical ability. Legend says that those who are not born with the ability to wield the arcane may travel to this place if they dare, and see if the abyss thinks you are worthy to be granted these abilities. Those who try and are not worthy... perish.
Eventually, the giants died out. Whether it was from their own bloodshed or not remains unclear. They were gone, and other races emerged from underground to look at their new world. Elves, the lithe and cunning, and centaurs, the spirited and bold, emerged first and took refuge in the forests. They lived together in harmony, and grew to be strong allies. Then came the humans in their vast numbers. Ambitious and adaptable, they settled down on whatever piece of land suited them. They unearthed the very first skeleton of a giant, and began mining it for its strength. This was met with open hostility from the elves, who hold the bones as sacred. While tensions remained high, another race came from the mountains. Tall, muscular, horned, and warlike, the olmhirr are a fearsome sight, but are people just like the others. They settled in the deserts and jungles, and there was an uneasy peace throughout the land for years.
Then one day, the humans chose a leader: a man who was born with the gift of magic. They called him the Archmage, first of the Magocracy, and he was hellbent on seeing his people prosper above all others. He commanded his troops to forcefully take the giant's skeleton from the elves, and sparked a war between the two people. The elves called on their allies, the centaurs, for aid and together they warred against the humans for half a year. However, the olmhirr had grown restless and begun to crave war. They admired the centaurs spirit and, seeing them as a worthy opponent, attacked them. The centaurs were unable to fight two wars at once, so they regretfully withdrew from the elves' conflict to fight their own battle. Unaided and vastly outnumbered, the elves were defeated and forced to give up the giant's bones. Human forces moved them out of their lands and the elves scattered, seeking a second life away from other races.
The centaurs were able to bludgeon their foe into a stalemate, and both sides agreed to settle their conflict with a duel of champions, which the centaurs won. Respectful, the olmhirr gladly withdrew.
But that was all centuries ago. Fast forward to the present day, and much has changed. Over the years, humans dug up more giant bones, elves still hate them for it and grow ever more reclusive, the centaurs and the olmhirr grew to have an odd sort of alliance that kept the olmhirr from razing the countryside, rumors spread of something mysterious lurking in the Void of Stars, and the humans spread their territory across the lands, and even gave our world it's own name: Talamnh.
