Legend says that Alm was born into a tyrannical country ruled by a council of powerful Magi. Once benevolent, these Wizards became consumed with the lust for power. They grew arrogant and ambitious, became contemptuous of those without the ability to bend magic to their will. As is the way of unchecked power, over time these Wizards grew twisted, cruel, and evil. The people cried out for a savior, one who could free them from the iron grip of the Magi. And so it was that Alm, the most courageous and charismatic warrior of his time, gathered the commoners in rebellion. The council, ignorant of the power of Alm and his followers, ignored the rebellion until it was too late. They were focused on conducting a powerful ritual, one designed to unseat the very Gods themselves and establish the Magi as living paragons. Alm and his army, which gathered strength and numbers as it liberated city after city in the Magi’s lands, eventually stood at the very gates of the Magi’s mighty fortress.
The battle that followed was horrific. Although the powers of the Elder Magi were devoted to the ritual, their followers and underlings still controlled great magics. They unleashed waves of flame and sheets of ice, lightning rained down from the heavens, and it seemed as though the very earth itself had raised its hand against Alm’s army. But the power of Alm would not be denied. Alm himself fought his way up the great tower in which the Elder Magi were conducting the ritual. Casting aside the the magics sealing the door to the ritual chamber, Alm found the ritual nearly complete. The focus of the ritual, a tremendous crystal which glowed with a sickly, purplish light, had begun to pulse and increase with intensity. The Magi began to gloat, thinking that their power would soon be absolute. In a last desperate bid for his people’s freedom, Alm charged toward the crytsal. His body was wracked by the mystical energies contained in the circle. The pain was tremendous, but Alm did not falter. He plunged his blade into the crystal, shattering it in a awesome explosion of mystical energy. The Magi were consumed as their magics rebounded upon them. Silence descended upon the tower. Alm and his followers lay where they had been thrown by the power of the crystal’s destruction. As Alm rose from the floor of the ritual chamber, now thrown open to the sky, a great cacophony was heard to emanate from the center of the room where the crystal once stood. It was if a hundred billion tortured souls cried out for release. A dark void, at first only a pinprick, was expanding at the center of the chamber. Through it began to pour howling demons and monsters whose very appearance would drive men to the edge of madness. The ritual had broken the world, tearing open a portal to a realm of madness, terror, and despair, a portal which now appeared to be consuming the very fabric of our reality. Nearly exhausted from their battle with the Magi, Alm and his army threw themselves at this new threat, knowing that defeat meant the utter destruction of our world. Alm singlehandedly closed the portal, wrenching it closed with his mighty thews, but he was almost too late. The battle with the void creatures had shattered the land and decimated his people.
Alm took the few survivors North. He promised them a new land in which to start over, a land free from the threat of arcane magic and its resulting tyranny. The pilgrimage took nearly 4 years. Miraculously, in that time not one of Alm’s people perished. He healed their injuries and cured their sickness with a simple touch, and protected them from danger with his prowess in battle. It was the middle of winter when Alm declared their journey complete. He named their new land Scardova, in honor of the scars his people now bore. The people built crude shelters against the winter’s chill. This crude settlement slowly developed into a town, and later a vast Keep, which they named Wintersholm in honor of their first cold days. This process took another 20 years. Once the Wintersholm was established, Alm, worn from countless battles and the long journey North, passed away quietly one evening. Before he died, he left a proclamation that he would one day return when Scardova needed him. To this day, his remains are still entombed in Wintersholm, the shinning paragon of his people.