On the continents of Eula the race's of Loran face extinction, their cities lay ruin, their towns now over run by the very curse they brought upon them selves. The race's spilt, forced to defend themselves in their last settlements as the number of their enemy continues to grow.
The elves hide away in their last sacred forest, great civilizations of elves now shrunk to small clans doing their best to continue on their proud bloodlines. The humans are doing their best to hold onto their capital, creating outposts whenever they can hoping they withstand the tide of their enemies. The dwarves burry deep within their ancestral mountain battle a different foe, hunger, closed off from the surface world their forced to rely on, questionable food options. The orcs defend their home, constantly breeds, giving birth to mighty warriors, if only they had the time to mature, their stuck in a race against time as they've met their match when it comes to breeding. The fairies retreated to their garden in the sky, The garden of Eden as the legends call it, their forced to constantly keep the garden healthy or their paradise in the sky will plummet to the ground leaving them with no safe place.
The world is in disarray...and yet they continue to persist, they fight back each wave with a heavy heart and shed tears for their lost. They continue to persist with the mindset that they are the last living race on Loran, wishing not to perish like the rest but to see through to the other side.
This world has no hero, in fact the people don't even believe in the word any more, for years they wished for a hero but after years of their wish going un-granted they've adapted to the real situation, hero's are but people with strength, theirs nothing special about them.
"So...answer me this, why...what brings someone like you here?"
An old man with pure white eyes stared at a figure clothed in a ragged cloak, their face unable to be seen and only the glow of its eyes confirming that their was indeed someone underneath the hole filled cloak.
"Don't question me, my father forced me to come down to this...lowly rock, and don't even think of calling me a hero, in fact...i can be quite the opposite if i wanted to..."
The old man shivered at the figures words but it didn't notice it, instead it was to busy kneeling on the ground in pain as a golden flame burst to life engulfing the figure where he stood.
With the light from the golden flame the figure underneath the cloak was finally show, it was a sickly pale young man with blood red eyes. The old man tried to see more of the young man but the golden flame winked out of existence and darkness kept the man hidden once more.
"Stupid dad and his stupid requests..."
The old man couldn't hear the mumbling of the man but he took one last glimpse of the man before turning around and walking down the dark tunnel he called home.