The Angels were once the most powerful of all the Races, both in
of themselves and in the land that they controlled. It was said that all
the skies and all the mountains belonged to the Angels and, even if
this was exaggeration, the truth of the matter was no less impressive.
Indeed the Angels ruled such an immense area of land that the mountain
range that housed their cities was named after them, the Angels Peaks.
These lands, though desolate, were pure and free of the taint
represented by DragonLord, Anvar, Mist Devil or Soulless. Crops grew in
the lowlands and precious jewels and metals were found all along the
slopes of the mountain ranges, allowing the Angels to keep away from
the other Races, having no need for the food grown by the Elves or the
minerals obtained by the Dwarves.
Beautiful and noble, blessed with everything that they could ever wish
for, the Angels were and still are a Race of tall beings, gifted with
immense bird like wings emerging from their upper back. Yet these wings
only seem to be required if they wish to alter the height at which they
fly, for all Angels are gifted so that they will never need to touch
the ground except to sleep and die. They can float just off the floor,
their feet drifting a few inches from the ground, propelling themselves
through the air with their wings. They give off a strange radiance, a
glow of the divinity that Aeros gifted them with, a halo of light that
matches the colour of their wings.
However all good things must come to an end, times change and when they
do it is too often for the worse. The Angels were arrogant and pompous,
confident in their power and their kingdom, and this was the way of
things for many years until something terrible came to pass. A
sickness, a wasting plague, came over the Angels, striking them down
from the skies by damaging their wings first, keeping the Angels upon
the ground, forcing them to keep together, thus speeding the spread of
the plague. The wings of the Angels atrophied and decayed, the
feathers falling out in ragged, rotten clumps to litter the ground
underfoot, their skin pulling taut and then falling in loose folds from
their flesh, the muscles underneath withered away. The final result of
this illness was always death, death by suffocation generally when the
lungs lacked the muscles to take another breath or by mass bleeding
when the eyes fell from the face, blood pouring from the skin of he
Angel as his muscles dying tore his very flesh apart, and there was
little chance of survival. Even the Fairies, born Healers, were unable
to do anything more then numb the terrible pain that afflicted the
plague stricken as their muscles dissolved into mush.
Yet all was not yet lost. The Fairies appealed to their Goddess to
step in to save the Angels from certain death. Though Lady Javersith is
the Goddess of Healing, of Love and of Mercy, She also expends much of
her own strength in bolstering the spells of Her children, the Fairies,
so is normally unable to aid further. Yet in this She saw that She
must, that unless one of the Gods stepped in all the Angels would die
in a most terrible manner. Lady Javersith knew that even with all Her
power, something that She was no longer able to amass, She would be
utterly unable to destroy this plague for it was no normal illness.
This dire sickness had to be the work of the one of the three Gods of
Yet Lady Javersith could not confront them Herself for, though one,
Shaltar, was Her very Divine Father and the others part of Her Divine
Family, their very presence hurt and burned the Mercy Goddess' flesh.
Instead Lady Javersith called upon the Angels own creator and Lady
Javersith's divine husband, Aeros the Sky Lord, and told Him what She
knew, placing the fate of the Angels in the hands of the God of the
Winds. Aeros did what He could, as fast as He could, which was exactly
what could be expected of the creator of the dying Race. Confronting
first Shaltar the AllFather, God of Death in Combat, of Honour and of
War, and then Killar the Lord of Murder, God of Death and Slaughter.
Neither of the Gods had caused this plague, the very results going
against what both Gods stood for, having neither the Honour that
Shaltar craved or the pure blood lust that fuelled Killar. Knowing that
there was only one God of Death left, the God of Bed Death, of Sickness
and Plague, the Corrupter, Aeros the Sky Lord called upon His divine
brothers, Hydros and Terra and the three of them stood together to
force the Dark God to admit His crime.
Indeed perhaps it should have been obvious from the beginning that such
a plot was the work of such a foul being, yet to think so was to
presume that the Dark God would have the power and the gall to strike
at such a powerful Race protected by an even more powerful God. To
believe such a thing was possible was a terrible thought and not one
that Aeros, let alone Lady Javersith, would wish to understand or to
Aeros and His brothers confronted the Corrupter by calling out that
Dark God, dragging the foul deity from His hiding place in His realm in
one of the Nine Hells. The struggle between the four of them, as the
three Gods tried to subdue the ferociously powerful Corrupter broke
apart the Great Continent, causing the immense rift that almost splits
that landmass in twine. Yet, eventually, they dragged the truth from
the Dark Gods lips and cast Him back into the Hell He came from. Now
armed with the truth, Aeros could act, could discover the only way to
save His Angels.
Since their creation the Angels had been blessed with strength, skill,
intelligence, eloquence and wisdom, making them the nigh perfect Race,
able to do almost anything that they put their minds to. And this
infuriated the Dark God, the Corrupter hating that they were so
perfect, so beautiful and so delicately crafted. And so He created the
plague to strike them down because of this perfection, because each
Angel was the same, rendering them vulnerable to the Corrupter's
sickness. Thus Aeros had no choice in what He had to do. He divided the
Angels asunder, creating the five Breeds of one Race, each unique and
yet each bound together by their heritage. Whilst once the wings of the
Angels had shimmered with all the colours of the rainbow, now each
Breed was marked by its own colour, almost like a brand, to show what
strengths they had and who was their clan.
The First Breed, the Golden Winged Angels, retained the wisdom of their
forebears, gifted with the foresight and ability that was required from
a leader, from a judge, from a king. They became the nobility of the
Angels, the Angels who would decide how and when the Angels would act,
following or ignoring the advice of the other Breeds yet gifted with
the wisdom required to make such a choice if they must. They took for
themselves the greatest of the Angel Cities, Regalis, the City of
Kings, the purple stoned paradise of palaces and civilisation.
The Second Breed was different from the First, just as the Breed was
different to the other Angels as well. They had been granted the skill
and dexterity required from an artisans and sculptors, the imagination
required for bards and poets. Living in Faber, the city that would be
known in due time as the City of Art, the Second Breed turned it into a
place of cold stone perfection, delicate workings and sculptors
covering everything, a breathtaking place of incredible beauty that
matched the bright sky blue of the Second Breeds wings.
The Grey Winged Angels were granted the intelligence, eloquence,
agility of thought and sheer brazen confidence required from a diplomat
and trader. They bought and sold the goods of the White Winged and the
Blue Winged, trading far across Tal'Vorn, exchanging the jewellery of
the Second Breed for weapons and armour from the Dwarves, for everyday
goods from the Humans, for beautiful coral toys from the Mermen and
delicate, grown wooden items from the Elves. Their city, Zatay, is a
place crafted for the comfort of other Races as well as just the
Angels, everything bigger and larger in case of Anvar visitors,
distinct areas set aside for the other Races and even small Dwarf, Elf
and Human populations in selected areas of the city. Truly it deserves
it's title as the City of Welcome.
In every society there are those that must work to support others,
whose labour the cities and industries are built upon. For the Angels
these workers are the Fourth Breed, the White Winged Angels. Granted
the perseverance, kindness, good humour, ability, constitution and
affinity for the plants and animals of the mountains, the White Winged
are the farmers, workers, labourers, scholars, teachers and builders.
Their city, Ehovia the City of Toil, is a simple place of cool white
stone, a place that is crafted with function foremost in mind over form.
The final breed are the ones that the Golden Winged wish they didn't
need to have. They are the Blank Winged Angels, the Fifth Breed, born
with the strength, skill, courage, determination, ferocity and sheer
bloody-mindedness needed to wage war on Tal'Vorn. A warrior class first
and foremost, they form the armies of the Angels, slaying any that they
are commanded to, believing that by following the commands of the
Golden Winged Angels they are acting for the greater good of all the
Angels. Their city, Elis, is dominated by black stone, the largest
building being the colossal College of War, one of Tal'Vorn's foremost
However not all the Angels accept their place. Not all of them wish to
be a worker, a diplomat, a soldier, an artisan or a noble. Some wish to
be what they want whenever they want, to be free of the strictures
placed upon them by their God, Aeros and typically these Angels will
turn to the worship of other Gods in an attempt to break free of the
structure of the Angelic society. If they are discovered then they will
be arrested by a group of Black Winged Angels and brought before a
tribunal of Golden Wings. Though trying to break out of your caste is
not a crime as such, heresy and dysentery are, to spread malcontent
threatens the stability of the Angel society and any that are found
doing this are stripped of much of their divinity.
They are forced to walk upon the ground, their wings no longer
supporting their weight and often the Fifth Breed guards will strip
many of the feathers from the prisoners wings. Their halo dims and
fades, their features losing some of the divine beauty that was granted
to them by Aeros. And finally they are exiled from all of the Angel
Cities, not to return upon pain of death. And in the worst cases, in
cases of actually committing some form of treason, these Angels are
thrown physically through the Jump Gate to the sixth Angel City,
Crimlis on the continent of Ilattaerar, the landmass in the centre of
the Great Sea. These Exiles are known simply as the Fallen.
Crimlis is a cold, isolated and forgotten city, the populace only there
because they have no choice. Though Ilattaerar is a common enough stop
over for ships travelling across the Great Sea, after all not everyone
can afford the cost of Jump Gate Travel, it is still relatively
uninhabited by comparison to the rest of Tal'Vorn. With only the two
cites, Crimlis and the human port of Dar, the landmass is almost empty
and thus a perfect place for undesirables of all Races to be shipped.
Indeed the place is often used as a final destination for human
criminals as well, turning the two cities into twin dens of crime and
However these Fallen, these bitter and twisted criminals, do not
represent the majority of Angel society. To be an Angel is to be a
child of the Sky Lord, one of the most powerful of all Tal'Vorn's Gods.
It is to live, should you wish it, in happiness and contentment for all
of your days, with your life already chosen by your birth. It is to be
a walker in the skies, one with absolute freedom. Yet it is also to be
born trapped, bereft of the freedom that would be gifted by your wings
simply because of the evil of the Corrupter and the helplessness of an
all powerful God.
Flight is freedom, a joyous escape from the petty lives of lesser beings here upon the earth. It is our gift and we revel in it.
We have no interest in your war, DragonLord, no interest
because we are unassailable. Let the humans come and we will show them
how futile it is to attack a Race born in the skies!
Pregnaus SkyToucher, High Lord of Angels at the time of the Great War, speaking to Drake FrostHeart.