The 4th Coming

There was a time long ago when Elves wandered the world in great numbers, when their achievements outshone even the brightness of the sun, when human and dwarven civilizations were still in their infancies. There was a time of legends and heroes, of incredible accomplishments and great deeds, a time when the world knew true grandeur. That time is long gone, however, crushed under the heel of fate and decay. The Elves are gone, now, victims to their own delusions. They failed to heed the warnings of the Harbinger, the one who came to warn them... He arrived on the night the moons and the Centaur constellation were aligned, several millenia ago, his appearance foul and nightmarish, and warned all who would listen of the impending doom that lay ahead. He issued warnings and prophecies, but the Elves had grown vain and arrogant, and heeded him not. The Harbinger left, promising to return when the time would be right again. Several generations later-a short time by Elven reckoning-the Harbinger returned, once more treading under an alignment of the moons and constellations. The Elves had all but forgotten his past warnings. As the Curse fell upon their race, they stood defenseless. Despite their arcane lore and magical skills, they could not resist the godly powers that crushed them. When the Harbinger left their lands, there was not a single building standing. It is said that the winds carried the stench of death even as far as the Dwarven villages in the north. The latter took this for a sign that evil was coming, and prepared to defend themselves. When the Harbinger came to their lands to warn them too that their turn would come, that great danger lay ahead, they grew fearful of the visitor's appearance, and shunned him. He left them, warning them that achievements alone were not the measure of a worthy people.