Originally Posted by
Word Smith
First...
For centuries, humans have eked out a living in this land, forming groups that became tribes, tribes that became nations. Yes, we fight often among ourselves, we crave for each others’ lands, we plot behind each others’ back, but it was a relatively peaceful existence. Compared to now.
It started ten years ago. Five renowned scholars from the famed Library of Ksander set forth on a fateful expedition ten years ago. Their quest was the prophesied mana, the source of pure energy that is destined to make humans the absolute rulers of the land. They traveled for years, into the frigid Northern Plains, far beyond the known limits of topography. They traveled in their mind too, trying to come to terms with ideas and concepts unknown to the minds of men. But they traveled too far; they probed too deep.
None of them returned, and they were largely presumed dead. It was a great loss, to be sure. They were the best scholars of our Age, learned in the various arts and crafts of men, well-versed in history and strategy, strong thinkers and fierce individuals. In their time, they had helped humans everywhere improve the quality of their life. They invented new ways of healing the sick, new contraptions to irrigate the fields and revived in us an interest in our own history. It was sad that they had to lose their lives in search of a dream. How wrong we were!
Then...
The Five returned, though not in the way anyone expected. They had been transformed by the power they had sought. It now consumed them, turning them into faithful servants. They were still the same men, but their core had changed. They were still the sharp minds, but they were also tools of a higher, darker power.
They called themselves the Dreadlords and initially people were curious. They wondered if these were the prophesied ones, destined to lead humans to glory. Men joined their ranks. But the intentions of the Dreadlords soon became clear. They were here to turn the land over to the Shadow, to usher in a new era of Darkness, ruled by the Great Lord of the Dark – the source of their dark powers. Minions of the Darkness served them too – grotesque orcs and bestial grolms. The men that fought in their ranks became less than men, became feral themselves, running with the beasts and hacking.
Nations crumbled in their wake. Even Belindor – the largest and strongest nation – has done nothing so far to stop the advancing hordes of darkness. As we speak, three nations have gone under, and Belindor stands exposed. If the walls of Shara fall, then all humanity falls.
Next...
General Gergoran Barka was the charismatic and brilliant general of Belindor, a man more popular than his king. For thirty years, he served his king and his nation faithfully, and was considered by his enemies to be a worthy foe and a mastermind strategist. When the Armies of the Night poured out of the Northern Plains, General Barka immediately petitioned his king to allow the army to march against them. The cowardly king sat on his hands as nations fell.
A month ago, after the fall of Faernia, General Barka had had enough. He ordered his army to march out, much to the displeasure of the helpless king, and has proclaimed himself independent of Belindor. On the advice of his friend and prophecy-scholar, old Balin, General Barka raised the Grey Standard.
The proclamation sent new surges of hope into the hearts of the weary population. Every day, more men and women joined the Company, because they realized that this was the last battle, the big one. From there, it was either salvation or devastation...
