According to legend, the history of Zentia began with the three Primordial Lords: Demonor, the Lord of the Demon plane, Mortalor, the Lord of the Mortal plane, and Supremor, the Lord of the Immortal Plane and Supreme Lord of all things, creatures, and plants as well as every grain of sand, every star in the sky, and every piece of lint in your ears. It’s not written down or anything—well, not until now—but honestly, that’s what the legend says... Supposedly, these gods ruled for many millennia with only the occasional tiff over who would get to light the stars on any particular night, and yet, there were always some less than positive feelings floating around between them. Apparently, Supremor was very strict and conceited; Mortalor was something of a rebel and a recluse; and Demonor was always bellyaching about how sick he was of the lower demon morons, and how he seriously wanted to punch Supremor in the face and take his throne atop Endless Mountain.

For centuries, the Demon Lord waited for the precise moment to open his can of whoop-ass. Finally, when Supremor was deeply engaged with watching some of his disciples make utter fools of themselves while trying to cast a resurrection spell on someone who was still alive and Mortalor was frolicking in some fields with some notably attractive female mortals, Demonor seized the opportunity to wreak havoc upon the world, kick his sorry brother’s butt, and name himself the new king of all things great, small, and in-between. He and his minions broke open the 81 seals that divided the Mortal plane from the Demon plane, allowing them access to the mortal world, which they cheerfully began to ransack. Flaming bunny tails were thrown at anything that moved, and when Demonor tired of the festivities, he left his minions to continue the pillaging while he alone entered the Immortal plane, certain he would be able to throw down with anything that stood in his way.

Supremor fell off his throne in shock when he saw Demonor stride into his palace, but the Lord of the Immortal Plane was not about to let his younger punk brother take over without a fight. Supremor first tried contacting Mortalor telepathically, but when that failed, he roared Mortalor’s name and ordered him to fix the broken seals. He then hurled a number of his Immortal disciples down to the Mortal plane and commanded them to clean up the mess. That left Supremor to deal with his mutinous brother all on his own – just the way he liked it.

Meanwhile, Mortalor was not pleased about being dragged away from his beauties in order to clean up Demonor’s mess, especially when he had an opportunity to watch Supremor take a beating. Thinking quickly, he selected twenty-two random mortals to deal with the Demons, tossed Supremor’s Immortal disciples at each of the broken seals, and then hurried up to the top of Endless Mountain to get in on the smack down.

Supremor of course was seriously peeved that Mortalor disobeyed and would think of him as such a pansy. But he soon forgot his anger when Demonor laid one right on his nose… and his eye… and in his gut… and on both knees… and, well, there’s no need to continue with the gory details. Mortalor threw himself into the fray, siding with Supremor (he couldn’t stand the thought of Demonor’s minions assaulting his beautiful mortal women). After the three brothers tore up all of Endless Mountain beating each other senseless, they all dropped from exhaustion. Some of Supremor’s remaining disciples then ripped out Demonor’s soul, chained his body to the large floating rock that was home to the Immortal palace, locked his soul in the most harmless vessel they could find (which happened to be a pet hamster belonging to one of the disciples), and threw away the key. In the Mortal realm, the 22 chosen mortal heroes weren’t fairing quite as well. They had learned a few skills and even somehow managed to pass the Test of Immortality - their ascent to the Immortal plane was imminent. However, the seals were still broken, and the world remained flooded with demons and god knows what other kinds of horrific genetic wrongness. The fate of Supremor’s Immortal disciples is still unknown and often a topic for discussion among drunken adventurers in local pubs.

After recovering from the godly battle, Supremor saw that the mortal plane was still a mess and Mortalor was nowhere to be found. Supremor was not pleased. The arrival of Mortalor’s 22 chosen was the icing on the cake. Enraged, he revoked their immortal status and told them in no uncertain terms that unless they cleaned up every single Demon dropping, there would be no access to immortality, no hope for the future of humanity, and no dessert before bedtime.

Thus begins the trials and adventures of twenty-two everyday heroes, chosen by the Immortal Lords to save mankind’s butts from the threat of lots and lots of ornery Demon weasels and other nasty things.

We wish them luck.