Numenhalla lies beneath all cities, all mounts and valleys, and all lands. All men know this because Lord Typhon made it so more than three centum ago when he reformed the sun.
A great war against daemons and chaos had been fought and the land ruined, but the mighty gods provided for Their children. The land was remade and the sun was reformed, from a disc to a lance, burning across the sky with his promise; That men would again know peace. Once man had learned to live in peace, the promised land would be the reward.
And mankind did live in peace. They basked in the holy warmth of the gods who provided guidance and service. But the promise was not upheld.
It has been many years since the gods have spoken to man, their ancient altars long shadowed from their glorious radiance, only the oldest of the long lived races (Men, Dwarves, Elves) still remember when the gods would speak. Now the hour grows long and the future uncertain. More than three centum have passed, and the crops are fallow, people are growing ill, and strange things are said to roam at night. Men seek answers by turning to dark powers, perhaps awaking the very daemons that humanity struggled so long to kill.
It is said that Typhon and the Gods below wander the Numenhalla, for that is their home. Perhaps they have fallen asleep, perhaps they are imprisoned by demons, perhaps you have been abandoned. Whatever the reason, something must be done. The answer must lie below, somewhere in the deep, in the Numenhalla where the gods are said to walk.