As all stories, the story of Turf Battles has a beginning. Long ago elves and humans lived peacefully but separately on a large island called Sephiroth. The elves called their nation Veros and the humans called their nation Ladianes. But the evil of arrogance and power caused the leaders of both nations to declare war and battle for control of this island. Many brave and good elves and humans died in the resulting Turf Battle. Finally an alliance between Veros and Ladianes was made and once again the land was at peace. The stories of these brave warriors were told by bards and storytellers by the light of campfires over the passing stretch of years. Humans and elves who sat huddled around the safety of these campfires often looked in fear at the surrounding woods while listening to these stories, because the light casted by the campfires and their own fueled imaginations sometimes made the shifting shadows of the surrounding trees appear as if the long dead heroes and villains of these stories had once again picked up their weapons to continue their endless battles. Over time even these bards and story tellers became a dim memory and the legends that they song and spoke about became mere tales to tell children before they were sent off to sleep. Sephiroth was peaceful and the lessons of the original Turf Battle had been long forgotten. But the evil of arrogance and power soon destroyed this tranquility.

Arhaidan, the chief wizard of Queen Rythia of Veros lived in Laziel Tower along the North Veros river. With his life the better part over, Arhaidan had appointed an apprentice to take his place when he died. Arhaidan was a studious elf who read and understood books better than he could read and understand his fellow elf. Therefore he never realized that his apprentice had goals and ambitions outside of his teachings. The apprentice was a very evil elf, and unknown to Arhaidan, was experimenting with magics far beyond even Arhaidan's abilities. Taking an early stroll outside of the tower with his queen one morning, Arhaidan was having fun making the queen laugh as he used his magics to cause the early morning mist above North Veros river to spin above its waters in colorful patterns, when an unearthly scream suddenly pierced through the queens laughter and through both of their souls. Turning around, they saw that a green cloud was pouring from the windows of the tower like a putrid waterfall. Running with the speed of an elf 100 years younger Arhaidan ran back to the tower with the Queen. The air of the study, like the rest of the tower, was inundated by the green cloud and their throats clogged with fear and nausea as they looked down at the ashes of what used to be the apprentice on the floor. Afraid and suddenly cold the queen fell to her knees and began to weep. But her tears began to freeze and her teardrops fell to the floor and shattered. Arhaidan tried to run to help her but was unable to move. His body began to tremble as tendrils of the green cloud wrapped around his body with their malignant embrace. His last mortal thought as he looked over at his queen was that the cloud almost looked pretty as it drifted out the tower's window down to the land below.

The cloud soon spread across all of Sephiroth. Everywhere it went living beings were mutated into nightmarish horrors. Gigantic Dragonflies now flew through the sky and blotted out the sun with their sheer numbers. Zombies and ghosts of the island's citizens walked the city streets and surrounding countryside looking for and hungering for the lives which were stolen from them by the deadly diseased cloud. In the end the cloud killed almost the entire population of Sephiroth. But fortunately a few elves and humans managed to flee the island in time and escaped to the Isle of Fuan.

For hundreds of years Sephiroth was uninhabitable and brave elves and humans volunteered each year to see whether it was safe to return. Each year when the scouts didn't return, the inhabitants of the Isle of Fuan knew that the disease had killed them. Meanwhile live was harsh on the Isle of Fuan and the elves and humans found it difficult to survive. The soil was barren and the fish were scarce and often diseased. There wasn't much room on the isle and if it weren't for the necessity of the elves and humans to help each other in order to survive, they would have warred instead. The elves used their magics to cause the soil of the isle to bear more than rocks and the humans used their strength and technology to create tools. In time alliances and friendships were made amongst the elves and humans. And for the first time since the beginning there was a true time of peace. But peace is often short lived.

Recently a scout returned from Sephiroth with news that the disease was gone, however the land is now filled with mutated creatures and other victims of the disease. Determination forges their hearts and braves their souls as elves and humans prepare to kill the mutants and reclaim their homes. As they resettle Ladianes and Veros, alliances are made and tribes are formed to claim as much of the land as possible.

And as the wind catches our sails and the distant shore of Sephiroth approaches we sing.

Peace is forgotten, war is at hand
Heroes become legends and tribes will rule the land
Through the mist of our memories
One thing thing stands out clear
Turf Battles are inevitable
Turf Battles are here