The world is called Logos.  It is the finished result of what happens when good triumphs, and then the repercussions of what happens there after. Eleven years ago the last of the adversarial gods died out and the exalted gods were finally able to oncea again walk the earth with their worshipers, causing countless miracles of faith. Even before the final strokes against the deities of evil were landed, Pae Noither, highest of the eleven gods had been formulating a plan to cement their place within reality, as he figured it, the problem with keeping the various humanities on the light side was ultimately inequality and the fact that the gods could not be everywhere at once.  Their eternal enemy was not choice, but circumstance.  His answer to the question was one unprecedented in other worlds, a network of spread divinity.  The gods would bridge the barriers between magic, Earth, and the heavens to create a utopia when no sentient would ever have needed again.


       Meeting with the highest gods of the other pantheons immediately after the last of divine evil had been slain, the exalted divinity created existences first truly cosmic spell.  A spell that requires the use of divinity as well as months of rigorously cast epic magic, an arcana that brought together the Language of Creation in its entirety.  The first few moments shaped a connection of massive magic scale, linking every particle of magic to the next in a grand web of faith and power that spread across every inch of Logos.  The second portion drew upon the collective gods and goddesses ability to shape reality, as a massive coordinated Spirit Burn by every greater deity within that sphere manipulated Gaea to shape upon the world their ideals of Eden.  Great marble cathedrals the size of  a mountain replaced prisons, massive forests of redwood and sequoia arose from once uninhabitable bogs, citadels of crystal, glass, and steel replaced mortal places of government.  And Gardens of every beautiful flora imaginable replaced farm fields, as humanity placed its trust completely in the Exalted Divine.  Arising within these beautiful places were those born of every kind of light.  Archons, Eladrin, and Gaurdinial did rise from these great temples and vineries, fully grown and ready to guide mankind to a new age of greatness and mercy.

It was at this point that something went truly wrong. The massive numbers of Aasimon, trusted servants of the Divinity, were granted an untraceable vision that foretold what doom such a reckoning would cause. Many Angels simply cast aside the vision as heresy against their god. They could not see how an action so grand and beneficial could result in such tragedy that the vision had shown them. But not all trusted so blindly, in their arrogance a group of aasimon led by a Solar calling itself Kohibael decried the spell of the gods as criminal folly, something so filled with arrogance and divine vanity that it would surely end in cataclysm. Kohibiel swayed to him fully one tenth of the great host against the gods, in attempt to stop what he saw as the greatest crime, the theft of choice.

The gods of course foresaw this treachery, and in their divine anger they called the loyal host to slay the traitors. The great angelic host, in their confusion, neglected to take a side. They had never known evil, they saw their brother’s action not as treachery, but disease, and felt their sibling celestials must be brought back into the light instead of murdured outright. In their wrath, still caught up in the Cosmic Spell, the gods next decried their halfway loyal servants. And so did the gods call to their worshipers to slay the disloyal host.  And what sins angels would not wear, man did put on with great zeal.  They who had once been compatriots now turned against each others throats, and did the angels fight back with heavy hearts, lamenting humanities misunderstanding, they were fighting for the choice of mankind. Many atrocities were committed in this conflict, and so were the aasimon forged something altogether else, becoming the Fallen and the Damned.

The forces of Celestia and Mankind brought bloody carnage against each other for three lunar cycles before they beat each other into a standstill, tired of great enchanted blades that seared the flesh of human kind as cannons formed from alchemy shattered crystal bones and golden flesh. But this would not avert the gods from their fated magic.  And so was Kohibael's vision shown to be correct, as the grand Arcana failed. Disaster struck in every corner of the known world, massive corpses of former gods fell from the skies and into their beautiful and blood spread paradise. They fell each and every one, showing too well upon their pristine faces such horror and regret that many upon the Earth grew crazed and so did commit more atrocities.  The Great Fall is not recorded in a single word of Logos history, as uncountable numbers of the once mighty populaces of Logos fell under the rain of fire, blood, and power.  Another half of Logos would perish under their madness, through homicide or terrible suicide, hysteria spread like wild fire as proud and beautiful cities became as a necroplis.  Perhaps the madness curse was more mercy then malice, as even those who survived the rain of death died in starvation.  What nourishment may be taken from a flower, and what water can be drawn from a prism fountain or heated to melt from marble.  Millions died, starving in what was supposed to be their paradise.  This left only one solution to what had once been a merciful people, there was a single place to lay the blame, and just one avenue to survival.  With their power gone, no priest could stop the hunger maddened mob as they made meat from their priests.  There was no guilt in this survival, for this world would end, of that every broken soul remaining was all too sure.  Why act with virtue and hope for heaven when your gods were dead?