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In the era past, an unknown event invited a being remembered only to mortals for its unwavering dedication to the slaughter of the Gods above. For as it pursued a single minded purpose, it claimed no glory, declared no cause, and spoke no name. It simply killed them, all. Their heavenly domains were shattered, their creations felled, and their bodies cast back to earth like chaff. With each new day the pantheon thinned, their struggles serving only to scar the world below as they failed to check its advance. One day the rain stopped, and it was over. The gods above had become the gods below, and the millions that had drowned in their blood joined them; so too would millions more in the chaos to come. In desperation, men sought new sources of power and divinity for guidance and protection. Godless ones, lest the Slayer make it rain again.