With the fall of Saint Estes and the chaining of the Sovereigns to the Expanse, the brilliance of high magic dimmed. The world that had once thrummed with Proven blood grew barren of its currents. Spells failed where they once flourished, artifacts became unstable curiosities, and the intricate arts of sorcery were reduced to scraps of ritual and half-remembered lore. Apprenticeships turned into little more than superstition, and the once-feared wizard-kings faded into memory.
Yet all was not lost. The surviving heirs of the great wizard lines — bloodlines carved from the crucible of the Estes Wars — still carried fragments of that power. Their inheritance was not just political dominion, but the remnants of arcane essence itself. These heirs rose to rule five fragile kingdoms, their thrones little more than shadows of the ancient fires they once commanded. Their crowns marked not divine right, but the slow extinguishing of a flame that once lit the whole world.
Among these monarchs a grim truth settled: humanity’s supremacy was fragile. In the wilds, lycans stalked unchallenged, dragons whispered promises of dominion through the Crimson Scale, goblin clans regrouped beneath the endless sands of Arkos, and the accursed mutations of the Limitless Virus began to appear once more among scattered bloodlines. If left unchecked, mankind would return to being prey in a world of predators.
Pooling the wealth of their five realms, the rulers acted in secrecy. They abandoned the squabbles of dynasties and founded something larger than any throne: a hidden order sworn to the survival of their species above all else. Soldiers of unmatched skill, philosophers who dissected the laws of nature, alchemists chasing perfection, and mages who still clung to the fading spark were gathered. Together, they journeyed to Thaloras, the frozen continent shaped around the tomb of Krakos. There, beyond the eyes of common men, they carved into the obsidian cliffs a fortress-monastery.
From this hidden citadel the Obsidian Hand was born.
The founding kings inscribed their purpose into black stone tablets, each etched with words meant to outlast kingdoms and empires:
Keep Humanity Predators, Never Prey. No creature, curse, or rival power would ever again push mankind to the bottom of the chain.
Ensure Humanity Survives. Even if survival demanded cruelty, secrecy, or the sacrifice of entire peoples, the species must endure.
The Hand became both sword and scripture. They forged warriors trained in both steel and sorcery, assassins who could vanish into shadow, scholars who catalogued the unnatural, and spies who moved unseen through courts and taverns alike. Their structure blended ritual discipline with rigorous study, molding their initiates into tools of survival.
To the world beyond Thaloras, the Obsidian Hand became rumor and myth. Some called them a ghostly knighthood. Others whispered of a death-cult of kings, or a brotherhood of killers who sold their blades to no throne. The truth was far more complex.
Agents of the Hand walked among mortals disguised as mercenaries, healers, advisors, or wanderers. They traded in knowledge, relics, and secrets, always nudging events to ensure humanity’s dominance. Entire wars were guided by their invisible influence, dynasties toppled when deemed dangerous to the species’ survival, and plagues quietly extinguished before they could spread.
By the modern age, the Obsidian Hand had changed shape yet again. Outwardly, they presented themselves as an elite mercenary and security guild serving the wealthiest of Nova Prime. Inwardly, their true face was darker: a cabal funding forbidden research in cities like Gransport and Silverpoint, blending cybernetics with the remnants of arcane bloodlines. Their goal was nothing less than the rekindling of the old fire — a new humanity, sharpened and remade to face whatever threats the cosmos might birth.
What began as an oath of protection had become a double-edged creed. By their own hands, they had preserved humanity across centuries. Yet their methods grew ever more ruthless, ever more inhuman. In hunting monsters, they became like them. In defending the species, they abandoned all others.
Still, their purpose remained unbroken:
Humanity will endure. Humanity will never kneel. Humanity will never again be prey.