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Among the plethora of races mine had lost it's name in the annuls of time. The elves might have it written somewhere in there ancient texts but I care not. I like it for there is power in names. Human call us demons and hunt us, the rest call us the lost ones. We would have been content to live in harmony with the world at large. Without our name, they cannot find us easily.
When the races began to decline no one asked why. Why is it that these wasteful short lived creatures florishing while we fade into extinction? I asked. I hunted for the answer. When the messenger from on high decended and spoke of the creators will I was stunned. "Humans shall inherit all that rests upon this world. So it has been decided, so it shall be".
Needless to say I was less then pleased. I traveled back and began to gather those who would listen. I brought our tribes together away from the lands of man. I went before the dwarves, the orcs, and even the elves. They all were dying out. There were no children, and with this their hope was passing. I spoke of war, of fighting off the rampant sickness of the human expansion. It came to my suprise that they truely listened.