The Second Fury of Gruumsh
Humanity is sundered…
In the year 413 of the Red Age, humanity had become complacent and selfish, shunning each of the Gods in turn.
The Pantheon of Order viewed the major Human empires of Nilriel, largest continent of Aden, as one large blasphemy being ever committed against them. After deep consideration and ample warnings that were continually ignored, they decided to make an example of these failed children. Gruumsh was given permission to intervene freely with the world of men.
Gruumsh, mighty God worshipped by the Orcs as their father and creator, Lord of Destruction, the bloodthirsty slayer, set his children, the Orcs, upon the empires of man. Empowered by their god, they were unstoppable abominations of fury and vengeance. Within days, the inexhaustable Orcs had swept over the empires of man and reduced them to dust, scattering the remnants to the woods and the corners of the planet that were willing to take them in. As the power granted by Gruumsh faded, the Orcs were hit by many days of fatigue all at once, many being in perfect health one moment, and struck dead the next. They retreated to their homes in Astran.
The world knew of what transpired. Nilriel-native Humans that were not targetted by the initial Orcish onslaught were now enemies of every race in Nilriel, who attacked mercilessly by orders of their deities. Some of the other races fought the humans willingly, but many did so against their will. For a year the Gods let the punishment continue before they could bear no more and put an end to the massacre, informing their respective clerics and priests of every race of their decision. Many were grateful for the respite, the Elves and Halflings in particular. The Orcs wanted more bloodshed…
...but they were denied. Gruumsh, in exchange for his rampage through the lands of Men, had to adhere to divine law; his children, the Orcs, would not be allowed to enter those territories for twenty years.
So for twenty years he waited and watched, biding his time until he can strike again. It is now the year 433 of the Red Age. Those twenty years are nearing an end, and his hordes are prepared to enter the lands once more, lands weakened without the mighty Human empires to defend them, and claim them for the Orcs.
The holding back of this tide would center around a lone mercenary; an Elven ranger, raised by Humans in a village hidden in a remote wood. Arcaeus strolled into Hlevisbard at the side of a caravan, bow in hand, and walked right into his destiny…