alea iacta est
These are troubling times. Twenty years ago, an earthquake ripped through the Darkrift Mountains, killing Dwarf and Drow alike with the force of the tear; from the wreckage a new mountain arose, a peak at the heart of the disaster. From beneath that peak came a creature not of the Earth: a daemon whose bloody trail across the land created a foul stench indeed. Although that daemon now is now two decades dead, her legacy continues, her child somehow key to the plans of the Inquisition of Lanixa.
To the west, the mighty Jandarr Empire fell to the Dwarves and in its place came a Priest-King and a much-reduced land. Too few know the evil nature of that king's religion, but enough know, and they hope to stop him before he goes too far... However, an undead army ravages through the lands to the north, its forces swelling with each victory, its leader the child of Cimosco, killed twenty years ago as he threatened to destroy the world with his madness.
For these are troubling times and as the wind of Fate passes over the globe we see a myriad of tiny figures going about their daily rituals. But if we focus in closer, to the heat of the troubles, we can just make out a small band of adventurers, a rag-tag fugitive group who, between them, carry the hope of the fragile world in their hands, although they don't know what to do with it or how they will win, they just know that they must or all they hold dear is lost, and all that they have fought for all these long years is for nought.
But why them, you may ask. Why them indeed?
Because these are troubling times...
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With a shield on his arm and a lance in his hand
For God and for valour he rode through the land...