There was a time, when the world was young and man had just come forth onto the earth, that there was no taint of Chaos upon the land. Father Taal and Mother Rhya tended the things of the land, and their son Manann was master of the things of the sea. Morr was king of the darkness, and Verena the queen of the light, and so all was in balance. In the high summers, Lord Ulric, brother of Taal and prince of the snow and ice, had no realm to tend to, so he had taken to walking the earth and the sky and the stars to seek adventure. He travelled far beyond the ken of man or God, fought and slew the greater monsters and dragons and gave names to all the wonders that he found. With him in many of these journeys came his cousin, Prince Ranald the Trickster, and many are the tales told of these two friends and their brave deeds. But all journeys must end, and this is the tale of their last journey together.
Ulric and Ranald had journeyed far to the north, farther than any God or man had ever gone before, into the frozen wastes, where the air is so cold it freezes like the water and the earth shatters under your feet like the first film of ice on the lake, and no man nor Dwarf can survive. And here, at the very top of the world, Ulric and Ranald came upon a crack in the sky. Looking through it, they saw a great horror: it led to the Realm of Chaos. There stood all the beasts and Daemons and Gods of Chaos, a great and terrible horde, straining to widen the crack and hungry for conquest of this new world. Ulric knew that should this army breach the gate, all of this world would be forever destroyed. He called to his brother Ranald to immediately run to tell Father Taal and King Morr of what they had seen, so they might make ready their armies to drive back this horde. Ulric said he would stand at the crack and hold it closed as long as he could.
Ranald nodded to his brother, and ran. But the Trickster was a coward, and when he had seen the Chaos hordes he had known only fear. Instead of running to tell his Lords and family what had happened, he instead ran and hid. He ran far, far away, to the burning deserts in the south, and buried himself deep under the sand there. Ulric waited at the crack, holding it closed with all his might, though on the other side a million Daemons clawed and grabbed at it, desperate to tear it further and gain their entry. Ulric stood and held the gate for a thousand years and one, his muscles ever-straining with the effort, waiting for his cousin to return. But he never returned. Enraged at his brother's cowardice, Ulric swore never to speak to his brother again, nor ever to suffer a trickster to travel with him, for all that trusted in tricks were nought but cowards, weaklings and deceivers.
Finally, Ulric's strength began to wane, and he knew his weakling brother had not delivered the message. He knew too, that he could not hold the gate closed much longer. So despite his fears, he was forced to let go and bear the terrible news to his family himself. But when he arrived to do so, he found himself ignored and discounted. His brother Taal did not believe that there could be another world beyond his, and Manann had no care for things of the land. Great King Morr believed Ulric's story, but did not see a great danger—certainly it was nothing Ulric himself could not handle. Ulric despaired, knowing that even now the Chaos hordes must be pouring into their world, led by their own great and hideous Gods, ready to destroy all they had made.