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The land was verdant,

The crops were plentiful.

The woods were alive, and filled with the song of birds.

The children ran in the fields,

Until the curse...

A sound that would drown thunder echoed across the lands.

The ground shook,

And the earth coughed forth a black miasma,

Shrouding the sun.

Pillars of fire pierced the skies,

Boulders came down in their wake,

The heavens wept sanguine, then wept no more,

And ash rained as snow.

The seasons ceased,

Winter's icy hand grips the land eternal,

Darkness falls immortal.

The mist veil in the sky devours all light.

The sun shall never return.

The wind was famine's breath,

And the ashen soil yielded no nourishment.

Great tempests and floods enveloped the world,

War came to all,

Death appeared in the guise of plague,

And a legendary king died in shadow.

As civilisations crumbled to dust,

And the bodies piled by the million into pits,

Scavengers picked clean the bones of an empire,

And the elders whispered:

This is what the druids of old had foretold.

Erdathe has taken hold.

Now the world is a waste,

What once was green is withered,

The woods are gnarled and dead.

The birds sing no longer.

The bones of children call the fields their grave,

Animals eat of corrupted flesh.

Man eating dog, dog eating man.

By all Gods we are damned.

All that feeds the fallow land,

Is the impure blood of man.

It must be the end of all things!