Once upon a time.

In a world without a sky. 

Where light itself is a rarity. 

Where slithering horrors rules the depth, and the dead roams the tunnels without end. 

Where nations and countries, are decimated by the final embrace of earth on the daily. 

Where concepts takes on a physical form to play god. 

A hopeless place where it's kill or be killed. 

And yet... 

Even in this place. The pest that is humanity still thrives inside this abyss. 

With their so called determination and hope, Like how all else living in this colossal chasm, they seek to survive. 

Yet, It is regrettable that they not only survive. 

They thrive. 

They build villages, cities, and nations. 

They forged and crafted their own sustenance, remedy, weapons, and soon... 

Armies. 

They war with each other trying to be more than the others, and for a time this era of chaos continues. 

Until eventually... 

A human... 

The human's hero. 

Blessed by the false gods with the might to rival They of The Deep. 

The human's hero united the nations one by one with the promise of a childish dream. 

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Soon, powered by the belief of the false gods, the humans marches on to tame this untameable abyss. 

And thus, The land fought back. 

Thousand upon thousands of worthless human's lives are butchered like the cattles they butchered on the daily, during their first crusade. 

For it is impossible for hands and feets made out of soft skin to clash against ones of molten rocks and scaled skins. 

However, the humans learned. 

Under the leadership of the hero, the humans created great and many machinery. 

Fortress and spires of hard metal and jagged spikes. 

Elaborate iron contraptions ready to vomit deadly projectiles. 

Imposing castles of unbreakable steel riddled with holes that launches away spears of light without end. 

Millions of adamantite edged blade laced with withering poison. 

And of course... Magic. 

Magicians , humans with the potential of using the ever elusive magic. 

Before the crusade, the magicians were mere performers who can at best dazzles with mere party tricks, entertainers who thrive on the dimwittedness of the masses to survive. 

However, with the hero's action, the magicians are now humanity's strongest force. 

What used to be pulling a lizard out of their hats soon turned into pulling an obedient draconic creatures from a rift to another world. 

What used to be conjuring a flicker of fire are now turned into the art of conjuring pillars of blazing and starving flames. 

What used to be a mere trick, a flick of the hand to conceal an object, has been mastered and turned beyond what it was, moving gigantic amalgam of magic and technology in the blink of a human's eyes.

All the while priests of the false God replaces the embrace of the deep with their lords revolting radiance. 

It is inevitable that they, in their hubris, attempt another crusade with their new knowledge and arsenals. 

They fail. 

Still, the failed crusade fails to bring the humans into the depth of despair. 

With the denizens of underground, being unable to assault them due to the protection of the false ones, while the claws of the deep ones cares not for them, ...they are protected. 

One after another. The humans attempted it again and again. 

The Third Crusade. Failure. 

The Fourth Crusade. Failure. 

The Fifth Crusade. Failure. 

With the vermin's numerous numbers and their stubbornness to admit defeat, the true gods began to watch on, as the mortals squabbles created tears in between spaces . 

They keep on pushing as the interest of the deep grows each day towards this break in the monotony of the dark. 

They adapt faster and learn more, at each time death and plague failed to bring them to despair. 

With each defeat they lose less from their never ending ranks.With each crusade, there are more of them, spawned and trained against the deep. 

They attempted their crusades again and again. Each time different than the last.

Through it all, the hero still lives, forever embraced by the false ones, there is no hope, that they will ever relinquish their grip over him. 

Until eventually, we arrive at what time bound mortals calls the present. 

The Eighty-third Crusade.