Beyond the world, -things- lurk in the formless chaos. They are without time, yet are forced to acknowledge a time before the world existed and a time after. They are without shape or location, but are forced to acknowledge that the world is in one place, and they are in another. They are without thought, yet are forced to acknowledge the idea of the world and think about it. They are bitter, enraged things, these chaotic demi-urges, their perfected existence of all potentials and none crippled by the knowledge that there exists a place of limitations and solid form. They seek to destroy it, gnaw it back into the formless chaos from which it was born so they might be free in ignorance once again.

As the world grows older, more of the formless find it and grow obsessed, but in the beginning there was only one that knew of it. Not the strongest, but the oldest. Those who make it a habit to give name to things called it The Eternal Storm, and it howled and beat against the gates of What Is, seeking to tear apart all that lay within.

The Eternal Storm is dead. It bound itself too strongly to the world and was destroyed by the laws and rules it had taken for itself. It's essence was torn apart and its component souls scattered to the five winds. Most have been lost in the chaos, or devoured by the other formless. A few scraps of what was once The Eternal Storm, however, fell through the cracks in the world and slipped on solid shapes.

Among these scraps was The Eternal Storm's sense of pity for the poor crippled beings of the world. So limited in capability and spirit, so simple in life. The potential they had barely ever tapped, what could be glorious roaring bonfires were instead weak guttering candles. No matter that candles burned longer and steadier, or that bonfires raged out of control, consuming all around them...

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Cain doesn't know any of this. Cain doesn't know much of anything. It's not been long since he was found washed up on the beach without a scrap of memory. Language was acquired quickly. Table manners took a bit longer. Concepts like 'seasons' and 'weather's till befuddle him, and let's not even get to human behavior. Mankind, he's decided, is flat out crazy.

See, Cain's set out to discover who he is, and what started out as a quest of self-discovery has turned into a mad race to stay one step ahead of the chaos that follows. Everywhere he goes, people get weird. The fisherman who discovered him sold his boat and wares, and announced he was becoming a wood-smith like he'd always dreamed of and left for the mountains. His daughter ran off with her best friend to become a marine. His wife shacked up with his sister against all social convention, and the entire town had decided it was time to announce their independence from The Realm before Cain decided to set off.

That pattern has repeated itself everywhere he's gone. Every stray comment, every unintentional look has inspired people to follow their dreams and make something of themselves. Rebellion, revolt, and social upheaval follows in his wake as Cain continues onward. And a suspicion grows in his heart that whoever he once was, it wasn't entirely human...