J. S. Chansellor
Son of Erebus

How small the world has become. How dark the days of man have grown. Each passing moment is steeped in vile, wicked, and corrupt things that once whispered of power, only to betray. What was once overflowing with life has diminished to a threadbare existence. It was not always this way.

For years, the realm of man, called Middengard, has waged war against the forces of the Laionai. Once human, the Laionai speak as one consciousness – a collective in which nothing of mortality remains. Gifted by the Dark Goddess Ciara with the ability to steal the souls of other men, their purpose is to enslave all who live and breathe in her name.

In the beginning, Middengard was successful in defending its people. But as the first age of war came to an end, its people began to weaken in their resolve, and a fable began to take shape; first in whispers heard at battle's end, then in legends passed down from one generation to the next. Soon, myth became prayer and an unswerving faith in an unseen realm was born.

For thousands of years, that fable fueled the vitality of the human heart, but as the free lands waned and Eidolon's rule overshadowed the few who subsisted on their own, faith faltered. As the last stronghold of man celebrated what little light still existed in the world, few held to the promise of such a fantasy.

There were some among man who would not let die what they knew in their hearts to be true. As they ended their day, they whispered their regards to the winged guardians whose plight was to stand in the stead of mortal man. As they woke, they recited long-held praises for those they had to thank for their freedom.

Though the faith prevailed in some, man was not alone, for among those born into the lineage of Ereubus – the ones who served the Laionai – a prophecy was told:

"Among the souls there is a chosen one, the Oni. Carrying the fate of mortal man, he shall through blood procure their end. He shall be the bearer of all things, bridging the divide between life and death. Through mortal fate eluded, he shall bear witness to those who embody light. This will be the first sign of his coming. One who has slumbered long shall arise, bringing the Oni the seal that shall forge the final strength of the dark one. This will be the second sign. The son of light shall fall from great heights, spilling innocent blood upon the steps of Eidolon. This will be the third and final sign. All things in alignment, the Oni will then sit at the right hand of darkness."

With faith placed in things unknown, both Middengard and Eidolon await the future – the Ereubinians, sitting in a throne of power, await the one who will secure their place of sovereignty while man, through the listless eyes of a soulless vessel, awaits the one who will deliver them.