The land was rich and fertile, and everywhere there was abundance.
Seven kingdoms, through diplomacy and reason, existed in peace.
Seven rulers had confidence in the good intentions of their neighbors. Not trust, but confidence.
Then He arrived. Sorceror, Warlord, last of his kind, from a destroyed and sunken land.
Thus began the Strife. He conquered the seven lands. Uniting them in servitude to him as self proclaimed Emperor-God. Every drop of Royal Blood was spilt by him, so none could rise against him.
Or so it was thought.
By some odd twist of destiny, each slain ruler was survived by an infant, or young child.
Each was raised by faithful retainers.
Each following their own paths.
Each seeking the destruction of the Emperor.
More than 20 years have passed.
Soon the scions shall meet.
Soon the Emperor shall know fear.
The stars align.
The time has come for