Shaelaedornne, Shaladorne, Zhalaedornne, and a hundred other names this world has. One for every great race, twice as many for each lesser race, and a hundred more beyond. This world is home to fantastical races, and to magic dangerous, magic powerful, and magic rare. The gods are distant and cold, uncaring entities, but a few who manipulate and beguile foolish mortals to do as they wish, or change them, or harm in a million vile ways. The gods didn't even help when the fury of the God of fire and forge spread across the land, they do not care when their children weep and starve, and they do not care when the denizens of the dark spheres beyond the borders of reality squirm through the dark, hidden cracks, burning and twisting the world around then whence they do. Yes, the many races are on their own-- but it isn't as bad as it seems. It has been a thousand years and a thousand more since the last of the fire dwarves burning crusades, and long since have most the cracks in reality been sealed. War isnt uncommon, but of all the eras, this is the most peaceful. But as the old elves knew, no peace ever lasts.