"This has not been the first time that ruin has stemmed from children turning upon their guardians; but if this calamity is not averted, it will be the last."
The Gods are dead, slain by the very children that they once gave life to. Now their twisted remnants scour the land. This is not a tale of a doom prevented whilst it nested in the cradle...
No; the calamity has already begun, bringing ruin to a world divided. Nations have fallen, cities razed, heroes turned from the most virtuous of souls to the most wicked agents of evil. The wrath of mortal kind against their makers brought about their own doom, and now the fate of the world and all who live upon it teeters on the edge.
For thirty years 'The Black March' has advanced across the world, leaving naught but hollow husks in its wake. Now, it stands stalled. The most resilient of peoples have held ruin at bay, but their defenses waiver. This stalemate cannot last forever. Whilst they hold the line, those who enjoy the 'luxury' of safety bicker and squabble, dividing the world further with their mortal concerns.
Thrones are vied for, religions toppled, and governments overthrown. Despair threatens to claim the hearts of those who remain. A grim curse called 'The Sigil', decried as a harbinger of the end times, ravages the spirits of the mortal races. The terror it inspires turns the closest of friends against one another for fear of what it entails.
Whilst those of virtue fall to vice and the world around them begins to crumble; the duty of stopping this cataclysm falls to those who stand 'Forsaken'. It is their burden to rally a world that has cast them out, to find those who would champion their cause, and bring low the fallen deities now known as 'The Spurned'.
The world's hope, fleeting and flickering, rests upon their shoulders...
And it is a burden most heavy.
(W.I.P; subject to change.)