When the seasons shift and grow cold, when summer turns to autumn and the nights grow long, the elves, hidden in their forest dwellings, speak of their histories. They tell the old stories; tales of the people, their hardships, their triumphs, and their losses. They speak of the old gods and of the beginning. They remember the shadows of things lost as the firelight dances and the whispers of the trees grow still, quiet in mourning for that which was believed lost. Yes, even to elves there are those that have passed into prologue. In those silent places where darkness and light blend, the legends of the Delombre remain; a people of the heartlands - more ancient than any human and gone from this world, trapped within the Shadowgate (or so it is said).

And yet some humans carry the tales. Stories of these lost people, told by the Umbraga clans as they traverse the veil of night, stepping into the darkness between the stars. An oral tradition carries a remembrance of this tragedy, regarding the elves of the gloaming. Around their fires and protected by the circle of their brightly colored wagons, the nomads sing songs of a people once beloved of the moon who fell to the shadow, a people who have suffered and have been changed by the suffering. The Umbraga's tales speak of a twisting of the elf kin, of a sapping of the spirit by the Shadowfell, sinking first to apathy and then despair, of ever-escalating acts in a drive to feel, spiraling ever more dangerous and dark in nature.

Mutated by the perils of the Shadowfell and subjected to hideous experiments at the hands of the Shadovar empire, the Delombre see themselves now as abominations: haunted beshadowed reflections of their former selves. Suffused with the deleterious, ever present phobos of the void, these poor souls occupy a curious place in the multiverse, at once apathetic, nihilistic, and self-destructive beings devoid of emotion. But so too are they hopeful creatures, desirous of joy without ever reaching those heights, with tales of their elven ancestry reminding them that it has not always been so. And thus, the dichotomy of the people of the gloaming is forged, indulging in a near-uncontrollable impulse to experience new sensations, each grander and more lavish than the next as they seek to overcome the dulling of their soul.