Eight thousand years ago the Archans came to Eris. Stepping between stars using portals of pure glyf, they descended on the world in their hundreds of thousands.
The Archans held the elemental forces of the world in balance, flourishing for millennia before opening the star paths once again. They left Eris and the races that lived upon it in the care of the Turan, or ‘the remnant.’
The teachers who remained behind maintained the balance of magic, while uplifting the natives of Eris. They ensured peace for many centuries, but as the golems built by the Archans started to fail and the balance of glyf faltered, wild magic began to return.
On the Endish Peninsula, the ice-giants named the Nor learned to feed off the wild magic, and the glyf within other living beings souls. They became brutal and monstrous in their unstoppable power. Meanwhile, the humans, who had bent so well to the lessons of the Turan, continued to die. Where the Turan lived for centuries, the humans lived only decades. They forgot in a few short generations, more than the Nor ice-giants ever cared to learn in a thousand years.
It is decades since the soul-eating Nor were pushed back into the ice wastes by a confederation of Humans and Turan. Now the humans are pressing the Turan of the Endish peninsula into a narrow belt of plateaus, as they claim more and more land for themselves. The teachers have given up on the savage giants, and even now debate abandoning the precocious humans to their petty wars.
The turan elders debate their future, even as a devastating magical blight from the South strangles their plateaus. They must fight for their survival, or else follow their ancestors into the stars.