[ TT ] [ High Fantasy ] The expansionistic humans ' armies have long been kept at bay by 3 different clans on the north , east and west sides of the kingdom . All of them had thought that there was a only giant ocean to the south .

A war has many names and many meanings, depending on whose perspective you see it from. To one, it may be duty. To another, it may be the will of the gods. To another, it may be the murder of family and the despair of your people. To another, it may be a quest for expansion. But if all perspectives can become one, war can be a tool. It can forge a nation or create peace. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Nearly a century ago, the Cleansing of Atlandor began as a diplomatic campaign for the human kingdom of Rhodayun. But after decades of blood, fields of the dead and dying under marching feet, untold thousands vanquished by the sword, spear and arrow of the clan men, the diplomatic campaign turned into a cleansing. From the eyes of men, it had to. 
 
 Lead by the decorated sir Deliante, the Singer of Death and marshal of the Rhodayun northern province of Kent, the great diplomatic force marched west to treat with clan Go ’ ran. After suing peace there, they would march north to Uth ’ ak and finally east to the Kren lands. There was a strong desire, both from the people and the crown, to end the bloody clan wars that had shaped the human kingdom of Rhodayun. The force left with great applause, the hearts and prayers of the people behind them. By this time peace had become wind, untouchable, impossible to see. Sir Deliante ’ s force gave hope that maybe the winds could be stayed. Maybe peace had a chance. 
 
 They returned a fortnight later to the northernmost keep and religious capital of Rhodayun, Rai ’ light. Their grinning, bloody and maimed faces rode to the outside of the city – on the tips of clan men pikes. 
 
 From atop the temple of Light, it is said the High Seekers shrill cry could be heard round the kingdom. With a scream, so began the Cleansing of Atlandor. 
 
 ***** 
 
 For what seemed an eternity, the humans attacked, pillaged, murdered and dishonored the clans people. All clans people. A great peace had been known for nearly two centuries before the humans has begun settling their lands, taking them by the blade. 
 
 Where the histories of the clans were written in blood, the great peace was the first chapter of life. The great clans of Go ’ ran, Uth ’ ak and Kren had created what none of the clans people has ever thought possible. But the peace was shattered. The sword of mankind quickly sliced the thin ribbons that bound the clans together, ushering the orcs back into blood. Into fury. Into hate. Hate once again for each other, but an even stronger, burning, unyielding hate for man. 
 
 When it became known that sir Deliante, he who had the blood of thousands of clansmen on his hands, was riding to the Go ’ ran lands without an army by his side the decision had been obvious. He would die for what he had done. Honor demanded it. 
 
 Killing the Singer of Death did not stop his song. The clans thought they had known death before, but the humans showed them their ignorance. His song only played louder, the drums of mankind only rang swifter, the heel of mankind only pressed itself firmer upon the clans. What the humans called a cleansing, the orc only knew as extermination. The specter of death moved across their lands like never before. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Over the years, Grace, capital of Rhodayun and the heart of mankind ’ s kingdom had become the largest city in all of Altador. Its shining white walls, standing higher than fifteen men, circled the great city, except for where it opened to the sea. To the south of Grace, the endless ocean of Voranus stretched to the horizon. Beyond the horizon. Every expedition that had sailed south either returned with nothing, or did not return at all. By this time it was understood that Voranus was truly endless. Why build a wall to face an endless sea. 
 
 The clan raid bells of Grace had not been rung in over a century. The success of man ’ s drive north had ensured a long lasting peace for the capital city to the south. But on this day the bells rang. People scrambled from their homes, to the tops of towers and the castle walls. They could not see clansmen though. There was nothing but empty fields and speckles of forest stands. However, in the south of the city near the merchant docks a growing grumble could be heard. A fearful energy could be felt. Everyone who could see the ocean from where they stood slowly turned to face south. 
 
 Massive sails crested the horizon, rolling towards Grace, from the abyss of the endless ocean.
