When the world was first created, everything organic and inorganic alike, contained Magic. Not everything could actively use that Magic, but not a single thing in the world was without a touch of the divine. The Deities who ruled the world became bored, so decided they would each pick favored creations to give a greater Magic: the Magic of Consciousness. 

They cultivated these creations over time, steadily changing the Mortals to fit the molds the Deities had made for them. These new creatures had language and culture beyond what the unconscious creations could have possibly reached. The Deities ruled over their creations, tending to their needs as long as they gave over proper worship. If the Deities were not pleased, their people would suffer. The most loyal, or at least those who could provide the most tribute, were given the greatest power and prosperity.

There were those who opposed this hierarchy, bitter that the Deities showed more favor to those who had more to give. The poor and disenfranchised soon rallied behind the only God who treated all of his worshipers the same: Cres, Forsaken Son, and Deity of Chaos. Because of his penchant for being at the center of the Divine Family’s problems, he had been expelled from the Divine Plane and trapped far below the Mortal Plane. Every follower was precious to him. Without them, he would be forgotten and cease to be.

When he heard the desperate prayers of the forsaken, he was all too eager to answer them. He convinced them to free him from his prison, tainted their hearts with his rage for his wrongful imprisonment by his own family, and led his people in a war against all who had wronged them. The other Deities empowered their own armies, calling them their Descendants, and a holy war began.

Though the followers of Cres were ruthless and fueled by vengeance, their efforts were for naught. Defeated, their numbers decimated, they were given a choice: Relinquish their Magic and the Magic of all of their future generations, or be slaughtered on the spot. Many chose death, feeling a life without Magic was not a life at all. Those that agreed were called Scorpids, and they were pariahs everywhere they went. Their lack of Magic left a distinct disconnect between the Descendants and the Scorpids who had blindly followed Cres into madness.

At least, that’s how the story goes…