[She smiled up at her and motioned towards the seat mildly. No need to be nervous, Max. Or so she hoped at the very least. This had definitely done a good job taking away all those other worries, hadn't it?]

Aye... long ago. Long before I was ever born. Before any of us, the world was fashioned by twelve gods, led by Lenion and Chaos. They fashioned a race each in their image, and loved their creation... but with time, they found it was not perfect.

Lenion, god of Light, wished to wait, to guide, to heal. He hoped to repair what was broken, and keep the world they'd fashioned. Chaos... felt that it must be undone, all die, that it be reborn perfect this time. Half of their breathren sided with one, half with the other. They warred, and the earth and heavens shook. In the end, the war claimed the lives of the gods of light, who sacrificed themselves to seal Chaos and his kin away. Centuries, millenia past, but the seals weakened once more...

And as they began to stir, the gods who sided with Chaos stirred from slumber. Their agent Summeril rose and with him his army of monsters. The war, all war, only ended when they awoke groggy, weak, vulnerable and we were forced to put them down... to claim creation for ourselves rather than die for their whim.