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| − | ==History of the Demoncracy==
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| − | This is the history of the Ebonaura kingdom.
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| − | ===Prayers===
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| − | Our Kingdom started when a young warrior named Puertorro, decided to travel to the world of Chaos in search of an adventure. He already had in his mind to become a follower of Libila and join the Horde of the summoned. Once he arrived and joined the Horde he became a citizen of the horde capital. During his stay; he petitioned the Horde Emperor and the Council, to fight other kingdoms and claim what was rightfully theirs but they were always against it. He waited for months whilst further reinforcing Commoragh's defenses for his leadership to fight back the opposing kingdoms but they never did anything to defend their lands. One day he decided to do something crazy and he prayed to the God of all Gods, "Rolf", to allow Black Lighters to claim independence. Rolf heard his prayers and granted his wish; Black Lighter would now be able to declare independence from the Horde emperor and fight as a new force against the white light.
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| − | ===Foundation===
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| − | On Luck day in week 1 of the starfall of Omens in the year of 1038.
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| − | The settlement of Umbra has just been founded by Puertorro.
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| − | The Dark or Low Umbra is the land of the dead and is constructed in much the same way as the Spirit Umbra. It has the Shadowlands (the location closest to our world where things are almost seen as we see them, except with a veneer of entropy), the Tempest (a sea through which navigation is dangerous and under which can be found the Labyrinth and the kingdoms of Oblivion) and the Far dark Umbra where the Dark Kingdoms reside, where the far shores are and where Wraiths with no fetter or connection to earth are stuck.
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| − | ==Religion==
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| − | Prologue
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| − | The shadows gather, shapes move and shift within them, a newborn cries out and is suddenly silenced by the sound of steel rending flesh. Blood moves over the floor, covering all it touches, the world turns to ash as the people around you scream silently. Time stops, the world slowly turns as a vision appears shimmering in the night before your eyes, and a voice softly speaks in a deep voice, that seems to surround you.
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| − | The time has come, from the mists of time, ancient powers have risen from the ashes, heeding the call of the goddess, children of the ages, damned for all time, once again kneel before he who wrought their damnation. Ancient powers coalesce and rise from the sea, coming to serve she who beckons as they were always meant to. The horned crown of the horde, now rests upon an ancient brow, the progenitor of the first great house and rightful heir to the throne of darkness, mortal flesh become god, resting as the ashes of the forgotten heroes and fallen lords swirl and form anew those whose bodies were broken. The darkness beckons, a command, issues forth from he who serves the goddess, written in blood and signed by he who must remain nameless for all time. The time of the culling is at last at hand. None will be spared, all who will not bow, will be broken, and all who will not come to the goddess on their knees, will meet the steel of her servants. She who was betrayed will have her vengeance, those who serve the betrayers share in their betrayal, and must be put to the sword. The time is ripe for the culling of the herd of those who blindly serve the three, those strong enough to serve, must be drawn out and brought before her, and the weak must be cut down. Blood must flow to sate the thirst of the goddess, and you, are called to make the wounds.
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| − | Time slowly begins to move, like a heartbeat pulsing in the darkness, the world seems surreal, you feel a shiver run through your body as images of blood and death pass before you, the earth is purged by fire. A figure wearing a horned crown appears, you watch with a mixture of surprise and horror as he reaches into your chest and rends your heart from it's place, you see it quiver and throb once before he crushes it. As you crumple to the ground dead, the last thing you hear is a cruel laugh, and the sound of a scythe passing through your neck.
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| − | Chapter One: The Darkness Gathers
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| − | As it is, so has it always been, and so shall it ever be. All things set in motion by the creators, perpetually shall remain in motion, forever. The demise of one mortal, the fall of one kingdom, even the destruction of the various gods and demons of the land can not change that which fate has ordained, all must follow their destined paths, and the story, this story, tragic comedy though it be, must be laid forth. Long ago, before the coming of man, the conquest and rape of the lands of wurm, and the pillaging of her natural beauty, there came to be a rift between the gods. When, or why this argument started, not even the gods remember, or care to tell, if they do remember. The consequences were dire, and Libila was cast out, to live alone apart from her brothers and sisters. Embittered and angry, she has sought only one thing, their destruction, and the destruction of every mortal being that follows them.
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| − | At first, when man came to these lands, and found them abundant and good, before the wars, before the coming of He who must remain nameless, and his noble bloodline, and shining cities, the gods hid themselves away from mortal eyes, sleeping the deathless sleep only immortals can know. The mortals spread and flourished in the lands, ravaging it, building cities, creating their own gods, in their own likeness, spreading like a plague. The horned king came, and brought his hordes, a being of such pure evil and malice, Libila stirred in her sleep. As his empire rose, and his enemies fell before him, cut down like wheat before the scythe, city after city kneeling before the horned crown, paying tribute, Libila awakened, and looked keenly upon this man, seeing in him a pale reflection of herself. Her thoughts formed slowly, as is the way of gods, when time means nothing, speed is not of the essence. She watched his progress for years, drawing his city and the man to her, inexorably, from the shadows, they slowly formed into what she wanted, a blade, with which she could strike out at her three siblings and maybe strike them down. She had never seen a being as bloodthirsty as man, a creature so willing and eager to kill his brothers and sisters. The beasts that roamed the land certainly could not compare. None of the other mortal men could compare to the cunning and cruelty of this man however. The way he crafted his lies, formed his deceit as truth, and fed it to the others, eager to believe in the peace he preached, before brutally destroying them with his own hand. He was perfect. Libila slowly gathered power, and as she did, her siblings became aware of what was happening, and they too began to awaken, realizing the threat. By the time they were in position to intervene, they were to late. Libila had given a measure of her own divinity unto the horned king, and he was beyond their reach. The gods had to do something. Quickly, they shot a beacon of pure light into the sky, letting mortals know of their presence, beseeching their help in stopping this new menace to the lands. Oh but it was all come to naught. They were powerless to stop that which their outcast sister has begun. Her presence made known to the nameless one, he was sent forth to form for her an order of those who would serve her. So, renaming his old city, and consecrating it to her at the foot of her altar, he erected a mighty city, and gathering an army of followers named it the horde of the summoned. So it came to pass that the great war between good and evil on the lands of wurm began. A pawn, pushed across a chessboard, mindless of his own destiny, manipulated by the gods. Ah, but this was only the beginning. The culling would soon begin, and those who would not join with Libila, would be destroyed.
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