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The Story
Dark things roam the land. Black things—shadows not seen since
before the lands were tamed and the ways of kings brought law
and order to the peoples of Terra.
Now the reigning monarch of Xersia, King Arik the Tenth, is
rumored to be mad, and his only son, the Prince, is whispered
lost to the wilds of the north. The jagged passes of the northern
wastelands are unpassable, and the lower woods to the south
team with evil and things that go bump in the night. Men speak
of ancient prophecies of doom and foreboding. Of the end of
time. The elves have long since retreated into their protected
forests, and the dwarves have sealed tight their mountain mines.
Indeed the dark times have been foretold by many. In tongues of
Man and Elf and Dwarf alike this darkness holds ill omen. Some
villages of Men call it the End of the World, Apocalypse.
Ragnarok. The oldest, wisest of the Dwarves call it Ak-Kharn,
“the Edge of the End-Time.” In the softer language of the High
Elves, their unreadable words translate roughly to “the End of
the Light.”
Each of these prophecies fortells a piece of the land’s doom. And
each a promise of vengeance and despair. But each too holds a
sliver of hope, for a true soul who might journey to the very
edge of this rising danger, and save us from our darkest
nightmares.