This is the story of ages past, a time when the world of Alinòr was at an apex. Humans had spread across its landscape, the rulers of the known world, while all of the other races of Alinòr were in decline. The Elves were at civil war, quelling a rebellion from within what little forest remained in their land. The Dwarves had retreated inside their mountains and their caves, grim and pessimistic about the future of the world above. Gnomes had similarly retreated underground, although to what unusual ends they had in mind remains a mystery to this day. Halflings were on the brink of extinction, unable to carve a place to call their own and enslaved by the Gnomes. Orcs ran at the sight of man, in constant retreat across the shrinking plains from mankind’s ever-expanding reach.

The Human race, meanwhile, held power immeasurable. Years of irresponsible breeding and expansion that is characteristic of the people had brought about change at a faster and faster rate to Alinòr. In the last two centuries, Humanity had exploded in size and supremacy to immense degrees. They had mastered magics more strong and strange than even Elves dared to delve, shifting between Planes of existence and resurrecting fallen family and friend as they willed. The southeastern section of the continent boasted the center of civilization, an ancient city named Serâne, which is Elven for “True Blood”. Serâne had existed as one of the first human cities, but over the centuries had evolved from its dirty and rough beginnings into a majestic cityscape; every surface was magically tuned, polished, beautiful beyond imagining. The realm was ruled by a Wizard Queen, born of a long line of just and powerful leaders, with Elven blood mixed in the line’s heritage, blessing the royal family with a patience and wisdom that only a long life can provide. The true gem of the nation however was its school of magic, a grand university from which the greatest (but not always virtuous) minds Humanity could offer passed through. Serâne was the jewel of the greatest empire to bless Alinòr, and if it was a sign of things to come, then despite its rude expansion the race of Man was set to do great things.

That bright future was not to be. Plague struck Man, and Man was overcome.


Not much is known about the specifics of this time; Man kept its own council, the Wizard Queen and her congress of magisters presiding proudly over its people, unwilling to request aid from the other races. This is just a guess however; history does not tell us if they even had the chance to make the decision. The plague hit hard and fast, and soon the hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children that littered the entire continent of Alinòr fell under its grip. Histories simply call it “The Blood Plague”, and the horrors of its symptoms are burned into the memory of all living races. It begins painlessly. The first indication of its contraction is a reddening of the eyes, increasing hourly until the whites melt into a sphere of bright red. It is then that tears of blood begin to leak from the corners of the pupils. Victims begin to see their world through a haze of red, their sight obscured by the tears which seeps from their eyes. They will see the world in this shade until they die. This crying of blood, though horrifying, is painless. They are the last painless moments of the sufferer’s life. Within 12 hours of crying blood, the sufferer’s body is wracked with agony. All other orifices begin spilling blood; blood runs from ears, nose, eyes, fingernails, every crevice into the human body at a steady rate. The loss of blood causes the victim to pale considerably, yet they retain their strength, allowing them to exert themselves tremendously in panicked but hopeless efforts to find treatment. About 20 hours after this phase begins, the victim begins vomiting blood. By this time (and sometimes long before), most sufferers have lost all coherence and sanity. Death follows anywhere from minutes to hours after the blood vomiting begins.

And so it was that the race of Man fell to ruin. The empire that had been built tall and proud over the course of millennium was decimated in a matter of months. The city of Serâne became known instead as Râne, which translates simply to “Blood”, for it is there the results of human torture were at its most horrifying. When the plague had run its course, less than a thousand Humans had survived.

None of the other races would contract the disease; it would seem they were immune. The age of Man had ended in blood.


It has been eight hundred years since the Blood Plague. The known world is much smaller than it was, magic much rarer, wisdom in short supply. Man has rebuilt, grown. It stands on a brink; soon, it will once again begin to boom, rediscover old histories, relearn lost knowledge. Humans are poised to once again become the dominating force of Alinòr. It is in this age that you, the adventurer, find yourself living. For now, Man allies themselves with the Dwarves in a mutually beneficial pact, yet it is not long until that pact is forgotten; mere generations away, Man will once again become independent, and accelerate towards dominance. Alinòr awaits, ripe for your character to carve a name for himself in the history of its world. Alinòr awaits heroes and villains to forge its future. Alinòr awaits our story.