What happens, happens for a reason. What does not have a reason, shall become what prophecy tells as cataclysm and myths tell as destiny.

The small town of Corgune was an idyllic place. Situated on a medium river, a main road, and just a few miles from the forest it had all the resources for which a growing community could wish. Dwarves, elves, halflings and other races were all welcomed. Trade caravans came through and the town thrived. Until the day the morning sun rose with a red haze. The town was swarmed by slavers.

The small hamlet never stood a chance. The militia was too slow, all being in their homes readying for a day in the fields or woods. A small group escaped, destroying a few slaver wagons as they did. You and your friends headed east, away from the Rolling Mountains and the Desert Crags toward the rising sun and the town of mind mages known as Rugber-Whitley Estates. You had to stay and protect the people that escaped with you, there were not enough men to protect the women, children, and elderly that traveled to a new home, and safety.

As you arrived in the mystical town, rumors followed you. Rumors or war in the west, beyond the Rolling Mountains and Slim Desert. Tales of armies of undead in the north, armies of elves in the south, and a mysterious new race that commanded demons, called Troöds, that were ravaging the land in between. Revenge had to wait. You were needed here in your new home to help your people.

That was almost two years ago, and today more news arrived…

The Destiny Chronicles

Xarvik bkm0obsidian_portal DanielAbt