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Over 600 years ago, a great flood rose up over the lands and took many lives. This was a time of war and petty things where the races were constantly bickering with one another. Countless numbers were lost to all towns. Fathers, sons, mothers and daughters, the waters cared not. The few survivors fled to the high mountains. Not even the dwarves were spared as the depths of their keeps filled with water and drowned all in its path.

For survival alliances were forged between age old enemies. They needed each other more than they needed their petty squabbles over land and resources. As they worked together thoughts began to stir, where were their gods? Why had they not saved them? The 3 leaders who had risen from the remains of their people could hear the whispers. Some kept the faith in the old gods, others began questioning if they ever existed. It did not take long for the praises of the leaders to turn into murmurs and rumors they were in fact gods themselves sent to save the people.

Then as suddenly as they had appeared these great Heroes vanished, though it is said in times of true need a glimpse is seen of them. It is the belief of Valantians that they were the true gods who had come to save the faithful and the few from the fate of the masses. A chance to bring the people together as it should have been. The peace stands but the future is uncertain and peace cannot last forever.

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