In the Age of Ancients...

The world was unformed, shrouded by fog

A land of grey crags, archtrees, and everlasting dragons

But then there was Fire

And with Fire came Disparity. Heat and cold, life and death, and of course... Light and Dark.

Then, from the Dark, They came

And found the Souls of Lords within the flame.

Nito, the first of the dead

The Witch of Izalith, and her daughters of chaos

Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, and his faithful knights

And the furtive pygmy, so easily forgotten

With the Strength of Lords, they challenged the dragons.

Gwyn's mighty bolts peeled apart their stone scales

The witches weaved great firestorms

Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease

And Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own, and the dragons were no more

Thus began the Age of Fire

But soon, the flames will fade, and only Dark will remain

Even now, there are only embers, and man sees not light, but only endless nights

And amongst the living are seen, carriers of the accursed Darksign.

How does one know what they believe is reality and not an illusion or some sort of trickery or false life? How can one discern truth and fact definitively without bias or taint, manipulation or insinuation? When an individual has the ability or chance to change truth do they? How can one be sure of anything, what is it that gives one the emotion of clarity and understanding, sure of that which they have learned over time is in actuality factual truth and not a rumor of epic proportions? Who chooses what is told to those that did not witness the past? Who possesses the right to write history? Who spreads truth to the ignorant?

Truth never existed.

History an intricate web of lies.

Fact what the ignorant blindly believe.

Reality encompassing only what the small mind of man can comprehend and see.

Since language and writing became known there have only been lies fed to the stupid and gullible of glorious fables and legends spun by fools with silver tongues and twisted fingers. It is with this knowledge I cannot tell you the truth, my child, and it is with this knowledge I warn you, those whom assure you they know, that they are sure, true, you must know there is no such thing. In the life you hold in this false world of deception and illusion remember there are none who know in honest the difference between right or wrong, fact or fantastic, and those who pretend to hold such ascendant and everlasting truths are liars of the worst kind. The only capable soul in deciding truth is easily found, however, yet a scarce few believe or respect it out of fear and insecurity; even fewer have ever found this giver of truth. The discovery and council of this individual and its real, unforgiving truth has either brought great strength or great sadness to those that heed its words. Can you guess who knows real truth?

It is you.

In the life you hold in this false world of deception and illusion the only one who knows in honest the difference between right or wrong, fact or fantastic, is yourself. You hold the key and none other for it is your life to live and your choice to believe whatever lie you wish, whatever history you choose, whatever legend of fantastical stupidity catches your fancy. Allowing yourself to fall in line, giving in to that which others order you are right and wrong, fact or fantastic, will be the end of your true life. Once you bend to another or many, out of fear or loneliness, it will no longer be your life alone but theirs as well, controlling and molding you into a shape more to their liking. Yet this may be your truth.

Though if you never give in, never yield, holding to the truths only you believe, in time these truths will either raise you above the rest or hurl you into the darkness of despair and loneliness. So, Child, I ask you...

What is your truth?

Lordran is the land of the ancient lords, once home to Gwyn, the lord of Sunlight; Nito, the first of the Dead; the Witch of Izaleth; Seath the scaleless; and their many brethren and faithful servants. A land of great power and holy zeal, unbroken tradition, unparallelled wealth and knowledge, Lordran is the crown of the world during this grand Age of Fire. The gods rule everlasting, humanity flourishing beneath such omnipotent and wise beings of perfect divinity.

Yet, when the light is strongest, darkness returns.

Now, after so many countless years, the fires die out. What once were great cities and kingdoms reigned by our immortal gods have become consumed by ash and death. Mankind falls to the undead curse, those afflicted eventually turning to mindless monsters of icy flesh and insane bloodlust. The gods fade, vanishing without a trace, claimed by the Dark and humanity shrinks to a small few. The Age of Fire is nearly at its end, overwhelming Darkness consumes the world and Lordran is lost. The Age of Dark looms rising from the ashes of Fire.

But there is hope.

It is stated in ancient legend, that a single undead will make pilgrimage to Lordran and give life once again to the World's Flame. This single heroic undead is fated to give his own life, Link the Flame, banish the undead curse, and restore the world. He is our savior, our Chosen Undead.

I am Chosen Undead.