• My father told me a story once, when I was young. This empire was much younger then, and the end of the fourth age was dawning. Adventure was a man’s call to life – thrilling danger called for great treasure. Bands of bandits, warriors, soldiers, or just plain crewmen searched the seas and lands for work, pay, and a story. A world so commonplace now in our fairy tales: Magic, swords, the mighty will of good defeating evil.
    But this story was not merely that. This was a darker tale, a more infamous song of the divine. A hero hidden in ages, lost among the gods and a cult seen in public exile. A tale of blood, of struggle, of sacrifice. None speak of the fourth age longer, for that was an age of evil. Primitive hatred and tyranny, darkness loomed over the land. Death, pestilence, war – this world was falling apart, at the hands of Feril Dagon, the dark king. But a lonely star sung onto my father, a song of a hero, of a leader, of a savior. This bringer of light was but a shadow, hidden from the eyes of fame and glory. With his blade did he carve a new destiny for humanity, a new resolve for man, a new hope for the righteous. With the blessings of the divine, and with the arms of the free pushing him forth to his feet, and with his blade forged from the ancient spirits, he sealed away this evil, banishing it from us all. The eyes of the lost gods carried his vision, his own will for humanity preserving our strength. And when the light of a morning finally shined on the land, we found that our hero was also gone, washed away in mystery. But we learned to not hold grief of his death, but rejoice for our victory.
    Years passed and a new generation came. With the end of the fourth age came new magic, new governments, and new heroes among the storybooks. The tale of our savior, like the many before him, was lost. Although some tongues preached the word of this story, none understood, few even listened, and even fewer did not cast it as heresy. None will understand, and fewer would even remember as another generation passed. With the development of new societies, new magics, and new technologies…came new forms of evil. The song of our savior was not a song of victory…but a warning.
    It is now near the end of the fifth age. And a shadow looms above my empire. I, the son of a ruler and of a story-teller, must now record a new tale. I can feel his presence looming, just like my grandfather did, those many years ago. Bandits in the streets, arcane atrocities ravaging my cities, thieves stealing wealth from others, monsters scouring the lands – the morning light is now gone, and tales of a dark rebirth are growing. A storm is approaching.
    A darkness is growing…where is our hero now?

    - Emperor Savilis Vivic IV