The First Genasi

Born from the soul of the world, the first four Genasi were made fully formed, at adulthood, ready to fight back the tide of Nekrutan worms. Each of them had a different style of fighting, but they worked together, each one strong where another was weak.
Aerthi was the airborne genasi. Wise and strong, she refused weapons, preferring her fists. Troc was the stoneborne. Like his sister he was wise, but he used his wisdom to call on nature. Ignis was flameborne. Her wit was sharp, but her mind sharper, which wielded spells. Finally, there was Snorn, the seaborne. With his will to survive and his great sword, he swore himself to his creator for a share of her divine power.
The first four went on more missions, and deeper into the newly created Deadlands than any of their brethren. They refused to merely be distinguished by their existence as the first and worked impossibly hard to show that they were the best that their new race had to offer.
On one fateful mission, they underestimated how many infected were in a town overrun by the worm. Being outnumbered was normal for them, but the sheer amount of undead in this town was something not even they were prepared for. Mana quickly ran dry, muscles were sore, and injuries accumulated. On their last legs, they desperately searched for shelter.
They managed to hole up in the abandoned church, stone walls offering superb protection. They prayed to Chenravo for help, putting the needs of the world ahead of their pride. She responded that help was on the way, that they need only survive until it arrived. In their simultaneous haste and exhaustion, however, they had failed to see that the church had a cellar. It was bad luck that ultimately exploited their ignorance, as the number of infected on the cellar door caused it to collapse.
Help was still hours away, and even with the bottleneck, they could not beat the servants of Nekrutan back as fast as they were entering the building. In addition, they had not yet fully recovered, meaning that their odds were grim. Refusing to give in, they slogged through the fight. Ultimately, however, they knew that there were too many foes. In a heroic last act, Snorn forced his brother and sisters to the street, which was now mostly clear, before turning back to hold the line alone.
He fought to give them time to get away, to ensure that one life may buy the freedom of three others. When his sword grew too heavy in his hands, he buried it in the ground, then fought with his gauntlets. It was, mercifully, enough.
In death, Snorn became Chenravo’s first saint, her Patron Saint of Life. Many have sought to retrieve his sword and armor, said to imbue its wielder with his strength and will, but they have remained too deep inthe Deadlands to be yet returned. His siblings yet live, thankful each day for his sacrifice.