Once our world wasn't broken. Once we could all in a place where peace existed. Creatures filled the sky, and fins made water currents. But after the last great war our world is no more. Broken clans are still trying to pick up the pieces our their culture and traditions. To pro-create, to live. This may be my last letter. I may die by the rising sun tomorrow and this small piece of me is all I will leave behind. I hope however finds it doesn't know the horror I have seen, I hope you have peace. Remember, their is someone out their who will be by your side.

Yours Forever,

Alexandra Thortan.

....
This was the last thing about the old world I have been able to find. Some scribbles on an old piece of paper. I hold onto it in hopes that somewhere had survived. They say that the war killed off 90 percent of the worlds population. The kings fought for power, for land. None stopped to think what it might cost them. So we roam. All kinds of people and creatures, or whatever is left. Some stay together and some go alone, but I think everyone is looking for a way out of these lands.

The country land is split. The desert, hot and over flowing with sand. The Ash, a land that might once have been beautiful, now covered in volcanic rock and lava. Terra, the dense forest, humid. Finally, the Pray, a dream land of fields and food, and a little bit of everything, and green.
----

This is my idea. Hoping to get a few good people to join in and possibly make two or three groups. Some environmental conflict as well as people conflicts. Their are many races you can be, I grant you the freedom to choose what you shall be.