The Gods have gotten old; the chaos is winning. The only hope for the people remains in founding a God of reason to bring order. And that requires the death of the old Gods of faith. Who will kill the old Gods? Who will stake the entire world in the pursuit of reason?Who will be the Godkiller?After years of darkness, an island of logic was born within the sea of chaos. It was Civilization. So far we have just survived and weathered the assaults of the unenlightened hordes that surround us. The unenlightened ones tried to wipe us out, but we are the light! How mighty can the dark before us be? Now, we have grown, from children we have become men, now Civilization is strong and powerful. Now we must finally realize our cause! It is the only way for our savage brethren to see the light; it is the only way to alleviate their suffering and ignorance. It is the only way for order to win over the chaos. All who oppose us, stand with chaos and must be eliminated! On the peripheries of Civilization live a people used to hardships and pain. We are the chosen people of the Elements, we are the Nation. It is from us that these fools of Civilization descend. They are too weak to live in the rules of nature and so they cower behind their city walls practicing their weak magic. The law of nature and elements is supreme. These robed fools think they can imagine a better one? So far they have shied away and so have been saved. But now, the piglet becomes a boar and feels it must rouse the ire of the Nation to prove itself. Fine then, we have not feasted on pig for a while! We have etched our place in this world with the iron of our swords. Your Civilization calls to us with its abundance of riches and its many learned people. Now is the time to strike, before you become any stronger. Old wise eyes regard both these peoples silently. Separated from these peoples by forests and impenetrable woodlands live the most ancient people of them all, the Tribes. All people descend from these old ones, though the children seem to have forgotten who the parents are. The children learn to forge weapons in fire and think they are superior to us, the old ones? The children come in funny clothes, wearing smells that announce them before they can be seen, and they tell us that they are progress? Because they eat with metal and we with hands we are wrong and they are right? The arrogance of the young, to come and tell us that the land we live on is theirs because a paper says so? But we wait. Like so many before them, these children too think they are the chosen ones. They think that their arrogance will save them whereas that will eat them alive. And then, we the Chosen people shall inherit again that which always was ours. All the mortals cannot see what they are fighting for. I know truths everyone else is blind to, even the Gods. We are one people. We always have been. But people have to fool themselves to believe they are unique, they are different. The truth is we are all Tribe, Nation and indeed Civilization. Mortals belong to them all, and there is no exception. But change demands the demarcation of three. They cannot see how linked they are to each other, how necessary they are to each other. So they fight, shout and howl, simply to give meaning to their lives. And I cannot begrudge them that. Why waste time and resources trying to save what could never be lost to try and preserve that which needs no preserving? They just don't see what they are a part of. I can, and so I can steer them, like great giant beasts in need of a guide. I am that Shepherd. I am their salvation...I am the Godkiller.