We, the survivors of the Exodus emerged on the other side of the portal in the center of this ancient city, long abandoned. Gardens were well cared for, the buildings looked as if they had all been carefully maintained, yet not a soul was to be found within these silent walls. We rejoiced in our survival before our new reality had a chance to sink in...
Our Families were gone. Half of those who stepped foot into the portal, never emerged. We were now a collection of widowers, widows and orphans. Our old families were shattered, our loves lost to the void.
Our Gods were dead. The few priests who survived could no longer feel the presence of the Gods, their prayers and meditations found only the cold emptiness of a Divine tomb. Whatever had silenced the former inhabitants of our new home had also silenced their Gods as well. We had no higher power to turn to for answers. The old religions and faiths vanished quickly, to be replaced by a small, yet growing cult to the God Unborn, their core tenet being that once the gods made the mortal races... now the mortal races must in turn, remake the gods.
Magic has changed. Of the three Magi Schools: Elementi, Mens and Anima, only the Anima practitioners made the crossing... Not one practitioner of Elementi or Mens survived the Exodus, and of the Anima Sorcerers, only the Necromancers exist in any appreciable numbers.
Our only friends were once our worst enemies... Goblins, humans and orcs had fought each other tirelessly for centuries before making common cause against the Enemy, now we must again make common cause to tame a new world, as well as each other.
Out of the ashes of our loss and sorrow, we will arise and claim this world as our own.