Prologue
Large iron gates opened to the thunderous sounds of galloping horses. Sat atop their backs were wounded men, the dying and the dead. An officer wearing the insignia of the Sol Protectorate came forward from the bunch and shouted orders, then the man dismounted and promptly collapsed to the floor. Guards rushed over to him, but he was gone, in his hand a blood-stained letter addressed to the Emperor himself.
A little while later a nervous messenger pronounced himself to the Emperor who sat upon his gilded throne. He told of what happened at the gate not an hour ago, and the letter that was addressed to him. The emperor, an old man now, straightened himself and beckoned him forward. The messenger sat in his hand the officer’s insignia and letter and bowed.
The old Emperor opened that blood-stained letter and read;
Westgate fallen. Enemy is too great in numbers. Sol Protectorate are routed or dead. I am sorry father, I have failed. Going to hold off the enemy, allow the wounded to escape. Entrusting this letter with Captain Obrien, a good man. Goodbye Father. Tell my sister and wife that I loved them. Tell my daughter that… she is my shining jewel.
Your Faithful Son,
Prince Lucius
Prince Lucius
The Emperor slumped into his chair, crumpling the letter in his hand. He took a deep breath as the light in the room dimmed from a passing cloud. He then looked at the messenger with a mournful expression and with a somber tone stated, “You may go my child, go be with your family. Dark days are ahead.”
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The Arrival of the Scorned
Two years ago in the far western reaches of the Empire, a seed sprouted in the womb of the Ebony Mountain. A black mountain standing apart from its siblings of grey, long as it held superstition in mortal hearts. What came next was horrific. Great tendrils of dark green vines shot up from the ground surrounding the mountain in pestilence and decay. From these malignant roots came vile creatures- the Scorned. They are of rotting flesh and twisted growths. They care not for anything but spreading their disease across the land.
So, the war began, between the peoples of the Empire and the new threat that united them all. Never had humans, orcs, and Fae fight side by side as brothers in arms. But even this great unity did little but halt the advance of the vines. In the two short years of the war, the Empire has been steadily losing ground as the vines grew from the mountain. Pushing the scorned further and further into the heartland. The fall of Westgate is the latest blow, these are now desperate times as the enemy can come forward with resistance only from the men that halt them. This has prompted the Emperor to call for extreme measures, to call for outside help as his military forces struggle and to let loose the Artifacts of Dramoria the Golden. Now, it's time to strike the heart of the Scorn itself, one final attempt to stop the Scorned from advancing any further. And he’ll need adventurers to do it.
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World Overview
The Empire of Dramon has long since stood as the pinnacle of cultural achievement and prosperity on the continent of Eon. There was no need for petty wars or rivalry between other kingdoms, because they all bent the knee centuries ago in the Age of Strife to Dramoria, first Emperor of a united Eon. He was a warrior out of necessity, a feared by many. The means of his unification have long since been forgotten by the common folk, but the nobility have long memories. He had used the fabled artifacts of the Gods, weapons of power and jewelry that bestowed great gifts, as means to conquer.
Those artifacts were then put away, safeguarded by the Emperors who would follow in Dramoria’s shadow. They were to valuable to openly flaunt and a symbol of great power, keeping most of the nobility in check throughout the Empire. Now with the Empire collapsing, what little choice is there but to use them?
