In the end, the Enemies of the gods rose up and destroyed their ancient foes. The Sun and the Moon were consumed, and worlds were shattered. The Enemies ruled the perpetual Twilight, and fear was every man's bedfellow. Hope was all but gone, and out of the shadows crept evils that had lain hidden for millennia. As the centuries passed, death and illimitable decay spread across the lands, and the Enemies' triumph was complete. My wife and my children are dead. My brothers and sisters are dead. My parents are dead. The Great Enemies still live. But I swear on the shattered bones of my kinsmen...they will not live forever. I shall become...the storm.