In honor of the Undertaker nerf, I shall quote the film Noah:
In the beginning, there was nothing. Nothing but the silence of an infinite darkness. But the breath of the Reynad fluttered against the face of the void whispering, "let there be cards," and cards were, and they were good. The first day.
And then the formless cards began to take on stats and mana cost. The second day.
And Hearthstone was born, our beautiful fragile game, and a great warming fire nurtured its tavern, and a lesser light ruled the arena, and there was casual and ranked. Another day.
And the storms of the Blizzard gathered together, and in their midst emerged the game board. Another day passed.
And the game put forth the magic things, a vast plethora of spells stretching across all classes. The collection too, teemed with life. Great cards of the legacy that are no more. Vast multitudes of murlocs, some of which may still swim beneath these decks. And soon, the game was streaming with minions. And there were taunts and there were battlecries. A fifth day.
Now the whole world was full of living minions. Everything that creeps, everything that crawls, and every beast that walks upon the ground. And it was good, it was all good. There were commons, and rares, and epics, and legendaries. All clean and unspoiled. The pirates and mechs, the dragons and beasts, each of their own kind, all part of the greater whole, all in their place, and all was in balance, it was paradise, the jewel in the Reynad's plan.
And the Reynad made Hunter, and by his side Warlock, father and mother of us all. He gave them a choice. Follow the temptation of the Undertaker or hold on to the blessing of the cards.
They ate from the forbidden fruit. Their innocence was extinguished. So for the ten generations since Amaz, sin has walked within us. Brother against brother, deck against deck, hero against minion. We murdered each other. We broke the game. We did this. Hunter did this. Everything that was beautiful, everything that was good, we shattered. Now it begins again.