The Elders agree that none who came to dwell here came from here.
It was the Keepers, those who we no longer speak of, who we toiled for as little more than slaves. Poor food, fouled water, and the incurable yellowmouth all claimed their victims while the rest died where they stood with a tool in their hand.
Then came the revolt, although how it was accomplished remains a mystery. When we awoke in our encampments, no one remained to watch over us. No bodies and no warning. The Followers of Sanguine appeared to deliver news that the fields and mines were unsafe and that we must all make our way to the Forlorn Valley, the forbidden home of the Keepers.
The valley was a lush and green place where the food grew plentifully and the water ran pure. Like our encampments, none of the Keepers could be found, and the Followers led us to Citadel. There we found the Keeper’s city in ruins, smoldering as if crushed by a great god, one we would later know as Sanguine. The age of the Keepers had ended, and it was whispered that a champion, Larnagish, had accomplished this in the name Sanguine.
The Followers provided great barges that, while unbelievable to us now, could move through the sky like a dream. Those who wished it were given passage to seek the places from which they had come, but a few remained behind in Forlorn Valley. Those who could not remember another place or time claimed Kaldera as their home and a piece of the Forlorn Valley as their birthright.
The passages to the valley were sealed. The sky barges left, never to return, while a few of the Followers stayed to ensure the secrets of the Citadel and its influence over us could never harm anyone again.
~ Athorin, First Elder of Kaldera