Vordhea, Dargheba, and the Downfall of the Gods

In ages long past, when the world was already old and dust had settled on the ruins of the first great civilizations, a war was being fought, as it had been for eons and eons on countless worlds and even in the womb of the universe. A war between two ultimate wills. A war between Light, and Darkness.

The legions of Light marched over twisted, shadowy creatures and into the depths of the fiery daemon realm, slaying devils and dark beasts in the name of their holy Gods. The daemon horde pushed them back, shrouded in darkness and unholy magic, a terrifying force to behold before the whips of their evil masters. But the Gods, both Dark and Light, were all evil, replenishing their armies by calling on the common people of the mortal realm to do their bidding, falsely promising entry into the afterlife as reward. The deities of Light and Darkness ravaged the land, vying for control over mortal souls. For thousands of years the battle raged, neither side gaining a true advantage. It was like this on many worlds in the universe. But the mortals of Vordhea would not let it be so on theirs.

So distracted were the gods with their game of war, and so much power did they give to the mortal champions of Light and Darkness on Vordhea in the form of magical abilities and artifacts, that they were blindsided and easily overwhelmed when their armies joined forces and turned against them. Their warlords rose up and knocked the Gods from their pedestal, daemon and human alike fighting side by side. They imprisoned the Gods on the ruined mortal plane, taking the realm of the Gods for themselves. In a fury, the Gods unleashed their full might against the mortals, but they had made their soldiers too powerful. Their combined strength deflected the raw energy of the Gods, utterly shattering the mortal plane and crippling their supernal masters.

The mortal plane became Dargheba, the Shard World, Land of the Dying Gods - dozens of tortured land masses drifting in a writhing black abyss. The air crackles with magical residue and time flows in strange patterns. The Gods reside there, deranged shadows of their former selves. Mortals live in the realm of the gods now, in lush Vordhea. There, Dark and Light manifest themselves in shades of grey, not so unalike, and not every daemon is without compassion, not every human or demihuman to be trusted. The world is as they desired to make it - free from the tyranny of the Gods, and they will not allow any being, divine or otherwise, to determine the fate of their existence. They are the weavers of their own destiny now, one of the only free worlds in all of the endless void.