Somewhere over the rough ocean waves, across the burned and blackened landscape of Atrata, through the peachy pink and orange forests of the Hinterlands, at the foot of the Farcaster peaks… Sits a small farmstead on a spring evening.
Inside the farmstead, a human famer by the name of Morgan is putting his children, Sindy and Aaron, to bed.
“Come on pa, just one story before bed,” whine the children.
“Fine, just one, and then it’s lights out… You’re getting old enough now. You need to learn how lucky you are to live in a time of peace. Let me tell you about the dark days, when Orcus ruled our world…”
Long ago, before the kingdoms rose and the fields were green, our world belonged to Orcus, the Prince of Undeath.
The sky burned red. The rivers ran black. Foolish mortals summoned him from the Abyss seeking power, but what came was a demon lord of unimaginable horror - a massive creature with a ram’s skull, bat wings, and rotting flesh. Where he walked, life withered and died, only to rise again as twisted undead servants.
The living became the hunted. Entire civilizations were slaughtered and raised as skeletal armies. Even the proud dragons could not stand against The Wand Of Orcus, which could end any life with a gesture. From his fortress of bone in the south, Orcus spread his dominion across all of Darrathen.
For generations, he ruled absolutely. Until deep in the dragon pits of The Farcaster Peaks, a miracle occurred. From a dragon’s egg came Arrako the Pure, blessed with strength to resist Orcus’ corruption. Arrako gathered allies - The Four - and together they did the impossible.
Through an ancient ritual, they banished Orcus back to the Abyss. The spell cost them their lives, but it freed our world. The sky turned blue again. Life began anew.
But hear me well: Orcus still exists, trapped in the Abyss, seething with hatred. The ritual that summoned him once could summon him again. That’s why we guard against those who seek such dark knowledge. For if the Prince of Undeath ever returns, there may be no heroes left to save us.
So remember this tale. Remember the price our ancestors paid. And pray Orcus remains forever banished where he belongs. And maybe tomorrow you wont complain about having to help feed the chickens!