There are stories, dark stories, nightmarish stories out there on the battlefields in the world of Stop the Rain. Some of them are other worldly, dark, eons old. Before even humans were put on this ball made out of the tears and blood of the great old one. The one who came at first out of the chaos. The one who was described as the beginning. The one who was eternal darkness, at least he loved to be called like that from his followers, before he got overturned, by his own children. There are stories to each of them. Stories to those which got turned by not him, by his children. Tales from the deep dark trenches of death and mud. Dirt which contains the essance, the energy of thousands. Tales which those carried to their wet, unholy, sad graves. Mares which could have been real…. Or not. No one knew, thou none who saw those for themselves, came back alive. Some came back, but not as what they were. This was just the beginning. The beginning of the end.
