Before war. Before kings. Before even the first breath of wind. There were six.
Three gods: Adam, Kaine, Lycaon.
Three goddesses: Eve, Lilith, Cyllene.
From their union, the world of Tenario bloomed. Light and shadow. Beast and man. Law and wildness. All born from divine will.
From Adam and Eve came the races of stone and soul:
Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Gnomes, Halflings, and Hunters.
Creatures of order, ambition, fire, and thought.
From Kaine and Lilith were birthed the night-bound and the twisted:
Vampires, Dhampirs, Demons, Orcs, Undead, and Goblinoids.
Echoes of wrath, hunger, and broken divinity.
And from Lycaon and Cyllene came the wild-blooded:
Werewolves, Beastmen, Lycanthropes, and all who roam untamed beneath the moon and forest.
Guided by instinct, storm, and silence.
Each soul bears the mark of its creator
A whisper in the blood, a patronage.
Most are claimed by one.
A rare few, by two.
These are the Blessed, beings of mutation and miracle, feared and fated to shape the tides of empires.
The gods no longer speak, they bless, they watch.
Their children war and wonder.
They build, they burn.
And deep beneath the earth, in silence undisturbed for forty thousand years, crimson eyes open.