Hegemon of the Xenotagma used to be the leader of an reckless band of adventurers. Bards tell of their deeds in many strange lands and exotic plains of existence. It is the nature of risks that things sometimes go wrong. And tampering with the forces of a mystical nexus is not always wise. The dramatic explosion and resulting dimensional rift did satisfy Hegomon's sense of aesthetics. But only a remnant of the band survived on a raft of cobbled together wreckage. For weeks they drifted at the mercy of storms and gods, gradually dying of starvation. Eventually Hegemon, the sole survivor, was washed up on the shore of a fertile island, an island which came to be known as Fate's Isle, Schicksalsinsel in the local orcish dialect.

For one of his calibre, such a setback is but a minor inconvenience. Indeed the freedom from old responsibilities and constraints (not to mention a few inconvenient grudges) allows a fresh start. Once again adventure beckons...

What a populous world we live in! We explored our island to find almost every hex populated by a different race. Peace and harmony? Not a chance! The peoples of the island split into two factions - two orc tribes against the world. The Gods themselves enforced peace for a few weeks, blinding guards and preventing thieves from stealing. But the Gods grew bored, and everyone gathered by mutual agreement for a big battle. And what a battle! Blood and souls for our lord Chaos! The orcish heroes were brutal; so were the magical hail-storms sweeping down the narrow mountain gulleys. The small and peaceful troll tribe which originally inhabited the region was almost extinguished. And still the fighting continued. The rivers ran red and strange creatures fed amongst mounds of body parts. Stand there today on a still night: one hears sighs, feels a chill breeze when no leaf flutters, fears the dark foreboding of the undead who must surely rise from such a scene.

To celebrate the victory, we negotiated a treaty, the Schicksalsvertrag, promising a fair share of resources for all, teamwork, and a fair distribution of assets for any who would leave.

Time has moved on, and our story with it.

Our victorious allies - the Empire, Arianer, Bloody Fist and Loge - developed into an island nation. The Silver Elves of an adjacent island joined us in our harmony. But all was not peaceful, our prosperity drew envious eyes from the East. The fools attacked, saving us a lot of trouble - and were wiped out with little loss to us. With help from the Kreis der Macht (Circle of Power), we counter-attacked decisively. Through storms of fire and hale our heroes fought, slaughtering the combined mightof our enemies with vengeful wrath. Within weeks the Aluntringath, Bluttrinker, Drachentempler, Imperium Renascentum Horasi and Sarins Männer were reduced to a few men hiding from our patrols. But there was no hiding, and they have paid the ultimate price for their arrogant aggression.

As the months turned to years, peace reigned. We sat back to watch the grass grow in the shade of some increasingly rare trees. Some frustration: the Arianer, Bloody Fist, Empire and Loge are old friends and only occasionally and partially meet their obligations under the Schicksalsvertrag. Thus the offensive arm of the Allianz is weakened.

And then it came again, the call to war. Border tensions between our friends of the Kreis der Macht and the Kerubin to their north. The rights and wrongs of it all matter little, both sides wanted war, though history records that it was the Kerubin who first invaded the Felder des Wiedererwachens on the island of Pitanja

The battle was glorious. The Kerubin were outnumbered more than 2:1, but better equipped. There was much clever use of magic. The remnants of the Kerubin retreated with most of their equipment thanks to a strange enchanted peace. They left many of their mages dead on the field, but we were impressed by their clever hit&run tactics. Our quartermaster was not pleased.

And now we wait.

And counter-attack, some time around 430. It is a disaster. The Kreis der Macht and especially the sub-grouping Allianz loses its best troops, may key mages, and most of their equipment. The Kerubin organisation is vastly better, and they take ruthless advantage. It is obviously only a matter of time before the Allianz is eliminated.

The Xenotagma, who have long been frustrated by the failure of the Allianz to distribute assets fairly, request neutrality - as is their right. It is agreed that the bulk of the Xenotagma will fight one last major battle with the Kerubin. We fight with honour. To the astonishment of our Kreis der Macht allies, the Allilanz, thowing all honour aside, back-stab the Xenotagma. Our elite escape, but the ordinary bulk of the faction dies, taking a fair few of the cowards with us.

The Xenotagma watch from the shadows and await their homecoming.