There are lots of rumors about this land…why things look and feel the way they do even during the day. See the sky? It’s been that way ever since the war ended, and that in itself is a mystery. Nine years almost to the day now in fact…that was the year a new army came to Kisandria; The Order of the Crimson Blade. At first, it seemed like any other of the smaller armies that existed here. They ransacked some of the smaller towns beyond and lay claim to the northern trade routes between Alphyn, the epicenter of the continent, and Trowan, slowly gathering the adjoining towns into a large township just outside their castle walls. In less than a year, they had become a formidable army, but something seemed…wrong about their presence. Unnatural almost. Their strength was unmatched by even the best of the northern lands’ smaller factions, and the farther their territory spread, so too did their influence and power. The sky; slowly at first, faded against the rising and setting of the sun, tainting the sky with an eerie, bloody gloom that lifted little despite the forceful attempts of the native alchemists and sorcerers to purge the land of so dire a force.

Perhaps it was an inevitability that even in the far-flung southern corners of Kisandria, rumors of their ever-expanding tyranny became commonplace. Even at so great a distance, villagers feared for their safety and cowered at the mere mention of their names…all but those of the Accursed; the ruling power in the southern land, whose might was feared equally by their subjugate townships. Each possessing powers relative to the elements they oversaw, their vengeful, and often murderous malevolence held the people at a common fear of persecution, demanding their obedience without question. Their long standing reign over the land was apparent even before the rumors of other powers began as, beyond the gates of their castle, pillars adorned with twisted, decaying corpses of those foolish enough to challenge the absolute authority of the Accursed lined the dismal, blood-stained landscape which, after countless ages of corruption and dark intent, lay against a forever-tarnished sky. Wiry strands of broken lightning flashed through the eternally darkened skies above, shadowing further, the once told beauty of southern Kisandria in the haunted darkness appropriate of its new rulers. Navis, a once heavily populated industrial town, lay in ruin by comparison with its once unequaled technology by hand of Dracon himself, having sought their expertise in arms and finding their non-compliance to his disdain. As ruler of the Accursed, Dracon sought to maintain his foothold on Kisandria by any means necessary, and in so doing, subjugated not only Navis, but Ahram, the largest of the widely known towns in the southern lands.

With such powerful forces looming over Kisandria, it was only a matter of time before their paths would cross…and sadly, such an event occurred in the center of the continent, creating what, from that date forward, would be remembered as the true end of what even then, could have been called peace for the people of Alphyn.

What those few members of the Crimson Order sought that day may forever remain a mystery, but in their trip through Alphyn’s unusually empty streets seemed a walk through a nightmare as broken and tattered corpses began to mount in their path. Reaching the center of Alphyn after a time they were finally confronted by a group of the Accursed army’s lesser generals. Many opinions of that initial encounter still remain to this day. Some claim the Accursed were the first to draw their blades, while others recall actions of the Crimson Order’s men to have begun the savage battle to follow, and even still, there are those who claim neither side was to blame for what quickly escalated into a frenzied battle, but in the end, the victor was clear. The Accursed stood victorious. Outraged, the Order declared war on the Accursed and wasted little time in mobilizing a large portion of its army to retake the town and, after many days of marching, returned to find Alphyn without occupation. Dissatisfied with the lack of battle, Deus, Lord of the Order, marched steadily south to the nearby town of Leive, which lie within the boundaries of the Accursed’s land. Dividing his forces into two battalions, Deus’ forces lay siege to the town, destroying houses and slaughtering any he deemed fit as an unnamed general marched farther south to begin on the next town. In the days that followed, many of the general’s men began to tire of their lengthy journey, and so, in an attempt to please his men, it was decided that their route would be shortened through Sultrei Pass; a well-traveled, but now rumored empty trade route within the Accursed’s territory. By cover of darkness, the general crept deeper into the unknown, and in doing so, brought about the wrath of Dracon himself, who, having been called north to recapture Leive, happened upon the troupe. Enraged, he unleashed the fury of his elemental prowess, leveling the mountain with a hellish mudslide and creating the bay now known as the Malignant Gate. While not entirely to blame for the dark presence which now hovers in the mist of the bay, whispers of ships sinking in its unnaturally cold waters and shadow-like apparitions walking its waters at dusk have surfaced in recent years.

From this beginning, it became obvious to the people that the war was only begun…rightly so at that. For many months thereafter, many bloody skirmishes erupted along the borders between Accursed and Order territory, leaving fields scorched and littered with the remains of countless soldiers. The Eyre for example, rumored to have been the site of a now legendary duel between one the Accursed’s higher generals and a Knight of the Crimson Order lies overgrown from the weeds which grew in the wake of blood once spilled. Tangled growths enshroud the once ravaged ground below, hiding the bleached bones and splintered armaments of soldiers who are now thought to haunt the land.

Years passed with no clear sign favor between the opposing armies until late one night, a lone warrior emerged from the mists behind the Accursed boundary and rushed forward leading a renewed army into battle. Showing fierce, and at times savage bloodlust amid the fighting, he quickly led his troops into the neutral grounds, overtaking the smaller encampments of the Order until reaching the charred remains of Lieve. Rallying his soldiers, he, who would later be identified by some as the son of Dracon, rushed headlong into the rubble, shouting cries of death to their enemies between the long, complicated obscenities mouthed in an arcane tongue. Quickly regaining ground once thought lost to the Accursed, his progress was halted only by the appearance of a Lord of the Crimson Order; Vargas. Possessed of some otherworldly power, Vargas’ vengeance for the attempted recapture of land was swift, reducing many of the zealous soldiers in his path to bloody smears as he stormed toward the believed son of the Accursed. Eagerly awaiting the coming fray, the nameless Accursed struck down the remaining few who stood between them and approached Vargas, boasting as he raised his blade. In the end, only Vargas remained to survey the field…and though his blade was stained with much blood, his opponent is thought to be among the living. With the advance of his foes halted, Vargas’ path lay clear. Gathering a battalion of soldiers from the nearby encampments, he and a Knight of his own choosing marched swiftly into enemy land, decimating the grossly outmatched foot soldiers of the Accursed’s waning army as they approached the heart of the Accursed’s land, steadily pushing the established border deep into enemy land. Nearing the industrial city of Navis, Vargas dispatched his troops and began anew the siege of enemy land until, at Vargas’ command, their advance was halted. Stepping forward, he demanded the Lord of the Accursed surrender at once, but instead, Dracon charged forward with sword in hand. Throughout the night, their feverish battle ensued and as (what one would presume to be) dawn broke, Vargas, having suffered to toll of his weary marches and sieges of enemy land, was forced to retreat. Heavily wounded from his extensive siege of the Accursed’s land, his tale may well have ended on the battlefield were he not delivered from the abyss by a great Elvin knight. Meanwhile, having gained knowledge of the unfavorable outcome of their militaristic push, Deus, set out immediately to continue the onslaught in Vargas’ absence. Dracon however, anticipating such an advance, devised a trap within Navis, and as Deus’ forces marched on the town once more, they found themselves surrounded by an army unlike anything they had seen. Soldiers, borne of darkness rose from the earth about them, and, though having fought a valiant battle, vanished without word shortly thereafter. Dracon as well, was said to have disappeared during the fray, though nothing was said for certain of his whereabouts…

Within the Accursed’s ranks, rumors of the fall of the Order’s highest officer were strong. As tales grew, so too did their reserve of soldiers, until finally, the Accursed were able to launch a counter-offensive in an attempt to reclaim their land. Wasting little time in drawn-out battles, another of the Accursed’s bloodline stepped forward, laying bare the largely undercommanded forces of the Order as his soldiers attempted to reclaim and push back the borders of their adversaries. Though gaining little ground in the attempt, morale rose as their numbers continued to rise substantially. So too, was the thought among the Order’s militia, gaining many new members after Deus’ disappearance. Though thankful of the bolstering of his ranks, Vargas’ dismay over Deus’ disappearance remained, until finally, calling to Taomire, the elvin knight who had saved his life before, he dispatched a small group to find his lost comrade in arms. Moving swiftly with knowledge of the land, Taomire was able to cover much ground in little more than a few months time, until finally, nearing the outskirts of Navis, something caught his eye. Stationing his troops just beyond the city’s edge, he crept closer, and once inside, realized there was more to the village than was once thought. Both Dracon and Deus stood as a force unto themselves in opposition of some new threat that loomed overhead; perhaps awakened by the war itself.

Though only speculation by those few who caught the dying words of the soldiers of either side, after his momentary capture in Navis, Deus and a small group of his men managed to escape, prompting a long, tiresome trek across the barren lands of the Accursed. After weeks in exile, his troupe was cornered near an otherwise unknown mountain in the distant western region. With little choice but to defend themselves, the pitched began, but shortly thereafter, another, more dangerous threat emerged from below. As Deus and Dracon battled savagely, the mountain, which would later be named Terse shattered beneath the spread wings of a newly angered hydra, which until that point was said to be a god of sorts that protected the land. Wasting little time, the legendary beast decimated the combatants indiscriminately, until less than a handful of troops remained to either side. Dracon, though intent on slaying Deus, realized that such a creature was greater than even he was prepared to handle, and so, forsaking his bounty, he fled eastward to Navis where he hurriedly sent one of his remaining soldiers to rally help. Deus’ small band remained and fielded the beast’s malevolent acts as best was possible, but in the end, he too was forced to retreat. Forging northward, he fell back to captured territory where he rallied the smaller camps to his aid and after a time, managed to delay the hydra’s advances at the border. Having accomplished so great a feat, his next action, which would later prove fatal to many, was to move the creature along the border, and eventually to the town of Navis, where it would be lured deeper into enemy territory. Working diligently, he enacted his plan, and within a month’s time, the hydra stood within eyeshot of Navis. Meanwhile, as Deus crept back toward Navis, Dracon’s troops had been dispatched. Awaiting their arrival, Dracon recalled his wraith command, and, summoning them to his air, prepared for a renewed assault on his military’s arrival. As dawn broke, the screams of slaughter echoed through the ravaged city as the hydra tramped through. Leading a swift assault as the distraction ensued, Deus charged forward, but to his dismay, the hydra was of no single mind, and lay waste to both armies. As Taomire watched the pair in combat, Dracon’s army arrived, shouting war cries as they rushed into the unknowing jaws of death ahead. The raucous engagement drew the arousal of the nearby army of the Order, who just so, rushed forward, finding themselves with two adversaries to combat. Amid the confusion of the frenzied fight for survival, Dracon slipped away, and, with the assistance of Taomire, Deus as well. Though few lived to the close of the day, many say that Taomire, who did not return with Lord Deus, may still be alive. The creature as well by some accounts is said to roam the southern portion of the continent, destroying all that lies in its path.

After the incident in Navis, both the forces of the Accursed and the Order of the Crimson Blade retreated to their respective territories in order to regroup. Having suffered great losses during the last few skirmishes, both sides began reluctantly recruiting from the unsavory mercenaries of their respective lands to bolster their armies. As months passed, spies crept between the now desolate borders, bringing tales of darker incarnations within the Crimson’s stronghold, as well as ageless magery from the Accursed’s castle. Tensions grew between the warring nations, and, as winter fell across the land, the mounting anxieties drew to a head. The unfavorably harsh winter precipitated much planning by both armies, and, though originally planned by both as a pre-emptive strike against the other, large armies led by both sides met by chance on the plains east of the decimated Terse mountain range. Battle erupted instantly as the warring factions fought for ground, and as both sides vied for favor in the battle, the Accursed sent forth their trump. His ancient robes adorned with archaic runes, the elder druid began preparations for a spell of unimaginable destruction far behind the fray, but at nearly the same instant, a presumed Arch Mage arose from the ranks of the Order’s army, chanting in a silent arcane tongue. The battle raged below as each side anticipated victory through their respective spellcasters, and as the moon rose, each completed their assigned duties. Chaos reigned from the skies above as the aethereal energies collided, creating catastrophic distortions in their intent and, rather than doing so for either side, obliterated altogether, the land upon which so many once stood. The charred wasteland turned swamp remains to this day devoid of life, and, as there were no recorded survivors, much skepticism is present in the claim that scorching rain blankets the land, disintegrating all it touches; flesh included.

After some time with no returning word, Dracon’s patience grew thin. Amassing the bulk of his remaining troops, he set out on a final attempt to end the war, setting his sights on the castle which towered in the distance on the northern horizon. Trekking far to the east to ensure the secrecy of their mission, they eventually came to the town encircling the castle and began a desperate gambit to slay their adversaries. Setting the town of Garin ablaze, Dracon’s forces crushed all that lay in their path until finally, they neared the gates of the castle itself. The assault well underway, the remnants of the Crimson’s forces were prepared, awaiting the attack just outside the gate, and as Dracon’s forces neared, the final chapter of the war began. Weeks of combat ensued as wave after wave of the Accursed’s armies streamed into the Crimson’s homeland, decimating the castle walls and nearly succeeding in their bid to claim Kisandria for their own until Deus himself stepped onto the battlefield. Unequaled in combat by any of the Accursed’s greatest generals, Deus fought with dire intent, and, after some time, stood before Dracon once again. After exchanging banter of their views on the war, with sword in hand, each charged, striking numerous blows between the influx of more troops from either side as they fought. As the siege raged on, both forces grew few in number, and, as the sun rose, Dracon stood triumphant. Deus’ corpse lay at his heels as he looked toward the castle once more, but before he was able to rally his soldiers, a great darkness swept the land. The utter confusion of that day remain a mystery even now, but one fact that remains is Deus’ corpse was never recovered by either side. Only the massive blade, which was rumored to have shattered as he lay dying, and the armour which he wore, were ever found.

His forces in shambles, Dracon was forced to retreat to the Accursed’s castle and regroup, but even as he fell back across the barren lands between the countries, Vargas was at his heels. With the last of his once grand army in tow, Vargas trekked to the heart of Kisandria in Dracon’s shadow. Marching steadily through enemy territory, his army laid waste to anything obstructing their path, forcefully demanding any they encountered join their precession and gaining still more to their number as they closed the distance to their goal. Some say, it was in this way that the strange man who seemed to appear among Vargas’ ranks one afternoon joined the march, but even this is speculation as none would return from the battle alive.

After several months, the journey was at an end, and Vargas, though weary from the trek across the length of the continent, bid his troops advance. Dracon, having anticipated such even before his retreat from the Crimson’s land, sent an advance scout to prepare for the apocalyptic battle to come, and now, as he stood on the steps of the Accursed’s castle, ordered his troops to attack. As the leaders of either side advanced swiftly, and at times through their own troops, the strange traveler who had joined Vargas’ advance seemed to withdraw, neither harming nor helping as the vicious battle ensued. Eventually, Vargas and Dracon met in combat, and as their hatred for one another grew with every stroke, the bleak skies above seemed to part. Many in villages to the north claim to have seen the stars for the first time in a good many years since the war began, and others still claim that heaven itself was responsible for the shimmering lights which darted amid the stars that night, but even those few who claim to have seen the end of the war are unsure of how to describe what they saw. Claims of a light radiating from the south star striking the battle field are among the most widely supported, but a few who were stationed some distance west of the fray claim that the immeasurable destruction came from a “glowing presence” high above the ground. Whatever struck the ground that night was a force which has not been felt in the realm since. The lands for many miles in any direction lay scorched and barren; devoid of even the corpses of those presumed dead. Where once the Accursed castle stood, ocean now lies; the land which once existed there now some distance from the mainland.

Even the stronghold of the Crimson Order lay in dissolution echoing a forgotten presence across the war-torn lands below as it sits atop the precipe of the northern land, forgotten by all but those brave few who dare to live in its shadow.


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