Somewhere just beyond the narrow pass of Kayin, in a secluded bowl surrounded by high peaks, lies a small human settlement built around a monastery. An old monk, the sole remaining inhabitant, quietly tends to his domesticated oschores and grows just enough food to keep his physical body functioning, while he immerses into deep meditation about matters of the psyche. Aside claiming the lives of his fellow chaplains that volunteered to provide support and moral comfort to the warriors in battle, the war seems to have spared this isolated corner of the world from destruction.
Unfortunately, Kayin is but a stone throw away from the scene of the most recent carnage, involving the epic struggle between humans and beasts. A small scouting party, dispatched by one of Jeraziah's lieutenants, stumbled upon a remote forest camp where their enemies had been building shrines and defenses around a rich redstone vein. What happened is a clear example of how humans can work together in the face of adversity: as soon as the discovery was reported, every platoon, squad or lone sniper converged towards a hidden gorge near the beasts' camp; a team of engineers quickly put together an improvised workshop and in a matter of hours, three ballistae were ready to rain havoc on the unaware scavengers.
Still busy cutting a path through the dense forest between the redstone mine and their sublair, they never saw it coming. Shamans we left with nothing more than bits and pieces of what used to be their brethren, having no use for their healing magic. And soon, shamans were themselves rendered apart under the sharp axes of the vengeful Legion.
All but one. Still alive after being pierced by a huge arrow, a young shaman was thrown in a ditch, escaping the humans that were seeking survivors and putting them out of their misery. Hours later, despite his efforts, the arrow was still stuck in the creature's back. The hemorrhage had already rendered him unconscious. Though, it was not meant for him to die. Because later that day, while being out, foraging, the old monk had traveled more than usual down the Frogs' path, which lead him right to the wounded shaman. Disregarding his own safety, as well as the reality of the war - that made the poor, suffering beast, his race's enemy - he dragged him to his monastery and lodged him in one of the abandoned huts. Over the next few weeks, he nursed him back to health, treating his infected wounds and damaged spirit, helping the beast rise from its ashes. And named him "Phoenix".
While getting his strength back, Phoenix had become familiar with the human writing and with the help of the monk, he began exploring the pacifistic doctrine of the order that founded this monastery. Mind-opening manuscripts were everywhere, and the shaman soon realized how wrong his previous ways were.
One day, he left. His new mission: spreading the teachings he received from the old monk. Mutual understanding, tolerance and forgiveness, not war, should decide the future of Newerth.
Shortly, many new adepts of the non-belligerant rituals caught on and set on to join the peaceful settlement, where they could look for spiritual enlightenment, far from the horrors of war. But alas, by the time Phoenix returned, the old monk had passed away, peaceful and content with the way he carried out his earthly mission. Tore with grief, Phoenix, and the other previous followers of Ophelia, swore to conduct their lives in the way their human mentor had been, spreading the word of piece and helping those in need, humans, beasts or brainless monkits alike.
Months in, the settlement grew, accommodating newly arrived humans alongside the beasts that were already living there. A seemingly idealistic society emerged. All racial differences were being overlooked or discarded. They were one and the same. Little did they know the price they would have to pay for it. Their new found faith was soon going to be tested.
One morning, as the sun was rising beyond the mountains, much to their dismay, they discovered the headless body of a beast stalker, now a converted fellow monk, on the ground, next to a stake coming out of the ground, with his severed head on top. Written in blood, on the ground, a few words threatened to bring their little universe to an untimely implosion: THERE CAN NEVER BE PEACE! It was signed 'BBB'. Oh, no! The slaying of their brother was claimed by the dreaded Beast Blood Band, a ruthless brotherhood of human xenophobic killers. And by the looks of it, it wasn't going to stop, unless they were going to find the killers hiding among them and banish them from the peaceful congregation.
Each day they were going to discuss the situation and vote the name of the person most likely to be an infiltrated BBB assassin. True to their new beliefs, no harm would be dealt to those found guilty, but instead, just before sundown, they would be blindfolded and dropped in the middle of Moss Woods, leaving them all alone to fend off for themselves, with only a bone knife and the faith in whatever cruel prophets they worship.