The Infinite Plain stretches out farther than even imagination can fly, drifting on the bed of nothingness above the gennunga gap, and lying beneath the coils and uncountable twinkling eyes of the universe serpent. This has been so since the gods were lost. Lost to time, lost to memory and relinquished of the faith of mortal-kind.  In an age of plenty in all regards, When mortal-kind had no wants, the pantheons of the gods went to War. perhaps there were too many gods, perhaps there was too few worshipers, but when the gods began to fight, the parts of the world they controlled and maintained were laid aside and forgotten. The Arcane, the Divine, and the Natural controls that had so carefully been balanced became unstable. Great floating cities fell when the magics holding them up failed, crushing whatever lay in their path, other cities burned or were overrun by wildlife. The dead roamed, raised and sustained by fell magics. Crops Failed or mutated in eldritch fashion leading to both famines and widespread disease that neither magic nor prayer could. Millions were slain by the divine fallout of gods and their host directly attacking temples or worship sites of rival gods. The very fabric of reality thinned and began to shear, allowing access from beyond. Nine beings of mortal origins took up the task of confronting the gods. They travelled using every means at their disposal, with difficulty travelling through the planes of existence, across space, and time, in order to gather all the gods in one audience for an appeal at peace. They Failed. Eons Later the tatters of reality are finally beginning to give. The plain is falling apart. And its up to a new band of beings to return everything to a space of stability.