Indulge, slip away to Ruin
Mist!
A dark shadow has been cast across the known lands. War
sweeps through the divided nations of men and elves.
There is great despair for the future of men, for if the
greatest of all kingdoms can fail there can be no hope
in tomorrow’s tomorrow for any man in any land. Yet
there is deeper despair amongst the elven peoples where
for the first time in recorded history the elves of the
West and East are at war with each other.
In such
a dark time, there can be little hope, and yet there are
those who do hold out hope. Hope that the righteous and
just will prevail. Hope that tomorrow’s tomorrow will
bring a better day. But turning back the tides is as
unlikely as turning back time. What’s done is done. The
Alder King is dead, murdered by his enemies—the very
enemies that have taken the heart of his kingdom and
with it the kingdom itself.
There
can be no doubt that an enemy king has extended his
reach and taken the prize he so coveted. Yet the thing
he prized above all else—the thing that spurned him—has
escaped his grasp. Other things have escaped his grasp
as well. In those things lies the hope for a future
without tyranny—a hope for the peoples of Ruin Mist; and
to win freedom is to win the future for everyone and
everything.
But what
of the elves far across the great sea? Is their hope
folly and their folly hope? If men succumb to the
darkness, the light of the elves must surely succumb as
well, and then darkness will rule forever. Who can know
for certain, but surely the fallen sons of ages past and
present must have the final say. |