Our planet is doomed. The world and all that lies within it has been scorched and torn beyond all recognition. In their wrath, the galaxies of the 9 Heavens have rioted against the only habitable Heaven left...Planet Earth.
Fire and floods have invaded Middle Earth, washing away and killing every living being that could not escape quickly enough. What hasn't been destroyed by heat or rising ocean, torrential downpours, whipping winds or blasts of lightning will soon be frozen solid. A new Ice Age has begun at the poles and glaciers slowly engulf everything in their path.
Only a few knew of the prophecy. Even fewer expected that the Apocalypse would actually occur…Once the storms were unleashed, once the fires began to rage, those who were not killed instantly knew only that out of this ruination of their entire planet, they must somehow retain their humanity. They must properly inter the remains of those who had already perished. Hands, legs, entire corpses…whatever bits and pieces they could find, they buried as deep as they could. Through the pain and anguish of their own mangled bodies and tortured souls, they dug enormous pits, gently placing the torn remains of their loved ones in the loving embrace of the soil. When they had completed that ghastly work, they stacked what was left of those who had no one to bury them, and finally they mounded unclaimed bodies by the thousands in mass graves.
They worked until their hands bled, until they collapsed by the side of the monstrous gashes they had excavated in the face of the planet, but still they kept on. They could not burn the corpses—all of the fuel that had not been consumed in the raging conflagrations must be saved for cooking and keeping warm. So they entrusted their dead to the bosom of Mother Earth...unaware that Naïr had already injected his dark spells into the soil.
Naïr, the son of Drun’dragtar the Dark Lord of Evil, was one of the few who had known about the coming of the Apocalypse. Aware that this would be his lone opportunity, he had only one thing in mind…the revival of his father’s kingdom. Naïr had read the ancient writings. He knew that his father could only regain his former power if dark magic was applied to those buried organs, those crushed limbs placed beneath the soil, the corpses that had supposedly been laid to their last rest...It was this revelation that brought the final doom to this planet.
Naïr's work disturbed those newly laid to rest, twisting their minds and bodies, and forcing unwilling souls to rise once more. Unfathomable creatures were born of the soil poisoned with an evil so dark that none could imagine it. Some of the creations sprouted two heads, others hadn't any…in the face of these monstrosities, human nature couldn't help but go extinct. In its place rose the minions of the Dark Lord…Orcs, Goblins and Giants, who had been given life, such as it was, for the sole purpose of re-establishing the Dark Kingdom of Drun’dragtar.
Sisliles, the Everborn Protector of the realm, appeared only after the disaster. In his horror at the evildoings of Naïr, he attempted to wrest healthy human beings from the remains that still lie buried. But the dark magic was too strong. Instead of resuscitating humans, the poisoned soil bore only Dwarves, Elves and Hobbits. Not so dour as their more toxic cousins, these creatures and the last remaining Humans who had somehow escaped mutation remain committed to stopping the Dark Kingdom from spreading throughout the planet.
Warrior, Pikeman, Archer, Rider, Wizard...each class has a singular strength to battle the invaders. Together, these classes make up the 6 Clans, employing a power few can withstand.