Zemonir

A world where heroes failed to rise to the occasion and the princes of the apocalypse tore the world asunder. The Gods, fearing the united forces of the mighty elementals, sent a great weapon to destroy all things upon the plane. Mortals ever crafty and stubborn used great and terrible magiks alike to lessen the destructive force of the gods and were able to just barely save a small shred of those living upon the world.   2,383 years have passed and beings mighty or crafty enough to survive the fury of the divine have begun to stir and thrash at the few mortals wandering the wastes of the world. Will history repeat itself as heroes fail to rise and the last vestiges of the old world pass on, or will you be the one to stand and defend the shreds of history, or perhaps you will even become the burning ember to rekindle the flames of destruction.   The Dwarves again chip away at the roots of mountains, the Elves have begun to venture beyond their forests, Human civilization threatens to spread ever outward once again, and the Orcs have begun to form their great war parties. As always the mortal races spit and writhe against the whims of the Gods so eager are they to survive and multiply in perpetuity. Perhaps you would see these great nations to rise, perhaps one or all of the nations shall serve you, or perhaps you might plot their downfall that you might feast from the bones of dead empires.   In a workshop deep within a woodland cave ancient gnomish hands pick at the springs and gears of a magical sentinel, beneath the waves the triton kingdoms battle pelagic horrors, hardly cognizant that the surface returns to life. A Halfling mother begins to cook second breakfast in preparation for the return of her hard-working son, and less than a mile away that same son's head is being thrust upon a goblin pike in preparation for a great raid. The greater gods give little aid to the world they abandoned but their eyes turn once more to their most devoted worshipers, but there are more pressing terrors to worship for those that know the blood pacts and the secret places where such things are accepted.   Kobolds spin glittering sheets of steel into deadly traps to guard their draconic masters, Bugbears once more seek dark masters to sell their wicked trades, the Minotaurs are leaving their labyrinths; the treasures they once guarded rotted to refuse, and yet...a father kobold takes the day to teach his gifted son what little magic he knows, a mighty bugbear warrior spares her foe and even helps him to his feet, and a minotaur who's eyes still struggle to adjust to daylight tastes the soil beneath him and knows this is where his family will begin a farm. The rules of the old world are not set in stone and only time will tell if the savage peoples of the past will become the inheritors of the mantle of civilization; well, time and just maybe the dedicated few who wish to shape the new world in their own image.   The destiny of this world is yet unwritten, will you take this chance to write your name upon the world or fade into obscurity? The princes once again stir, the giants begin their march, the dragons have scented out the treasures of a new world, and a mysterious relic causes the them all to hold their breath.   Roll for initiative, bitches.