It is said that a demon departing from the Nine Hells would require at least a century of ceaseless travel to arrive in Aetherland.
It is said that the distance between Aetherland and the Celestial Realm far exceeds its distance from the Infernal Abyss.
Why is everything phrased as "it is said"?
Because no living witness remains.
Among this world's inhabitants, only dragons and liches possess the power to breach dimensional barriers - neither species being particularly communicative with others. All planar theories ultimately trace back to celestial and infernal accounts, or more precisely, to records kept in the elves' Sacred Arboreal Archives documenting these divine and fiendish testimonies.
According to elven chronicles, the earliest memories originate from the First Eon.
In that age, elves gnawed on bark in primal forests, dwarves hunted across glacial peaks, and humans roamed grasslands brandishing stone-tipped spears - not a single proper civilization existed across the realm.
Then came the Divine Incursion. Celestials and fiends appeared simultaneously in this world - the Archives term this convergence "the Eventide Convergence".
None know what truly transpired then, as neither celestials nor demons ever explained to mortal races. Whether from fresh grievances or ancient grudges, war ignited between them.
Yet neither angels nor demons proved suited for warfare.
As immortal beings, they could exist perpetually unless physically destroyed - but immortality carries its fatal flaw: procreation.
Both species reproduced at glacial paces. Where humans could double their population in two decades with ample resources, dwarves required two centuries, elves a millennium, while celestials and fiends needed tens of millennia.
Creating a new angel or demon demanded ten thousand years' gestation. Destroying one took mere moments. Thus both factions learned through bitter experience: "Destruction always outpaces creation."
Endless campaigns, unsustainable population growth, wars of attrition that bled strength despite limited intensity...
After over a millennium of relentless conflict, both factions found their forces decimated, populations reduced to less than a tenth of their original numbers. Territories and treasures became meaningless when even dominion over the entire plane held no value. Their cherished creeds teetered on the brink of collapse.
The First Eon began with the celestial-infernal declaration of war in Year 1, and concluded in Year 1121 with the signing of the Armistice Accords. Thus ended the 1,121-year epoch.
Then dawned the Second Eon.
In Year 1 of this new age, though the First Celestial-Infernal War had ceased, animosity between the Heavenly Host and the Nine Hells burned fiercer than ever. Both angels and demons understood the truce as mere necessity—the next war was inevitable.
Since neither side was fit for direct warfare, they sought species to wage proxy battles. Aetherland teemed with sentient races to manipulate, and the gods even held power to forge new lifeforms.
Thus began the Great Selection. Celestials chose titans and elves for their arcane resonance, mirroring divine magic. Demons first engineered the Hiveborn, goblins, and kobolds, but upon these creations' failures, turned to dwarves, orcs, and merfolk.
Humans—short-lived, physically frail—never made the list.
A semblance of peace followed as both factions nurtured their chosen proxies, imparting knowledge and civilization. Centuries flowed like sand through an hourglass.
In Year 5303 of the Second Eon, 5303 years after the First War's conclusion, elven-dwarven border skirmishes ignited the Second Celestial-Infernal War.
Both sides committed full strength initially, seeking swift annihilation. Yet as foreseen, stalemate ensued. This time, however, the attrition proved less devastating—angels and demons largely withdrew from frontlines, leaving their proxies to bleed.
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As war expanded, unintended species got drawn into the maelstrom. The deadlock persisted until Second Eon 5973, when a new force joined the demonic ranks: humans.
Unlike other conscripted races, humanity volunteered. Since the Great Selection began, they'd secretly absorbed knowledge from both factions, cultivating their own civilization.
With brief lifespans and explosive reproduction, they outpaced chosen species in expansion. Now emboldened, they sought direct access to demonic secrets through military service.
Demons reveled in this ambitious species. They showered humans with unprecedented support. Humanity repaid this investment by crushing the celestial vanguard—titans and elves—on open battlefields.
Over the next three millennia, human influence snowballed. Celestial forces adopted defensive postures while humans became the proxy warfare paradigm. Demonic patronage intensified, triggering rapid cultural diffusion—human ideas permeated allied dwarves, orcs, and merfolk, even leaking to enemy titans and elves. Celestials decried this as "the Corruption", for no species grew strong as humans through mere imitation.
Had this continued, demons might have triumphed through human vectors, however gradually. But in Second Eon 9315, catastrophe struck: six northern human warlords pivotal to demonic campaigns defected to the celestial side.
Elven chronicles enshrine this betrayal as The Luminous Turning. With this fulcrum event, the 9,315-year Second Eon concluded.
Thus commenced the Third Eon.
The reason for humanity's betrayal remained shrouded in mystery. Elven scholars exhausted all means seeking answers, yet no records existed—not even in human annals—to explain this defection.
Both celestials and demons investigated the upheaval, though not the motives. To them, reasons mattered less than the revelation: humans lacked the contract ethos fundamental to cosmic order.
This traces back to each species' genesis.
Born into primordial power, both angels and demons inherently revered pact-keeping. Whether upholding celestial justice or infernal survivalism, they honored agreements unto oblivion—the very concept of oath-breaking lay beyond their comprehension.
Their vassal races—elves, titans, dwarves, orcs, and merfolk—inherited this covenant tradition under divine/infernal tutelage.
Humans alone deviated. Unchosen and unprotected, they'd stolen civilization's embers. Their fragile existence bred ruthless pragmatism—they coveted power above all else, developing mercenary ethics surpassing even demonic ruthlessness. This became the betrayal's root.
Worse, humanity's growing influence under demonic patronage spread this oathless philosophy. Vassal races adopted transactional warfare—fighting for whichever side offered better terms. Celestial edicts and infernal commands became mere bargaining chips.
This systemic oath-breaking entangled both factions in endless internal strife. New lexicon emerged: traitors, double-dealers, oathbreakers—contagions born from humanity but infecting all, even corrupting some angels and demons themselves.
"This silent corrosion terrifies more than battle cries."
From Third Eon's dawn through Year 3264, rebellions erupted continent-wide. As celestials and demons quelled uprisings, their proxies grew stronger and more unruly. Human empires profited immensely playing both sides, eventually rivaling their divine/infernal masters in power.
Who could foresee proxies surpassing their creators?
In Third Eon 3264, exhausted celestials and demons declared another armistice, ending the Second Celestial-Infernal War spanning two eons. Thus began the Fourth Eon's uneasy peace.
Post-war, both factions withdrew magical endowments from all vassals. Human arcane civilization regressed millennia overnight.
Why such drastic decline? This returns to why gods never chose humans initially.
Warfare's twin pillars are martial might and arcane mastery. Physically, humans were the weakest civilized race. Magically, the gap proved insurmountable.
Arcane arts demand knowledge accumulation and mana cultivation—both requiring time humans lacked. With average lifespans barely reaching fifty winters, human mages could never rival even adolescent elven apprentices. Their sole hope had been leeching mana from celestial/demonic patrons.
When these fontheads sealed their power, human magic withered. Even other races' arcane development regressed.
Though peace reigned, this respite lasted merely five centuries—a blink in continental history, yet generations for humankind.
In Fourth Eon 499, five centuries after the Second War's conclusion, new conflict ignited with the ascension of a Celestial Sovereign and Infernal Overlord.
This time, neither faction desired bloody frontal warfare. Within armistice constraints, they devised new battlegrounds: faith.
Celestials established theocracies among humans, granting slivers of mana to devout followers. Through these "blessed", they sculpted value systems to covertly steer civilizations.
Demons crafted "Weasel Covenants"—arcane pacts binding souls through power and wealth. Their signed thralls became perfect sleeper agents.
Thus began the Long Game, a shadow war spanning millennia.
...
From Fourth Eon 499 (Sacred Reckoning Year 1 in human calendars), with gods abstaining from direct intervention, humanity—the plane's premier mischief-maker—embarked on countless exploits:
- The Moonstrife Crisis
- Southern campaigns against elves (ending in Verdant Massacre)
- Northern invasions targeting dwarves (crushed in Forge Valley Debacle)
- The Twelve Pretenders' Revolt
- Dragon nest raids (triggering Northern Cities Purge by enraged wyrms)
- Undead realm expeditions (where battalions got battered so thoroughly they lost cardinal directions)
- Titan ambushes (leaving fifteen of sixteen kings decapitated in one dawn)
Despite losing arcane supremacy, humans remained the plane's most catastrophically inventive race. Each fiasco birthed rapid recovery, shameless diplomacy, then fresh calamities. Curiously, their territories kept expanding.
Finally, on an unremarkable human night in Fourth Eon 11,237 (Sacred Reckoning 10,797), our tale begins...