Once a long time ago, on an Island called Asiah, four major kingdoms, each with their ways of life -- after dealing with one era of darkness -- came an era of light and friendship, of sorts, between three of the kingdoms. Though that era came to an end when the ideals of friendship gave way to greed, selfishness, paranoia, and jealous reaping of dwindling space and natural resources. Lands took up arms against their neighbors. The end of the world occurred much as we had predicted -- the world was plunged into an abyss of balefire and dark magic. The details are trivial and pointless. The reasons, as always, are purely our own. The world was nearly wiped clean of life. A great cleansing; a magical spark struck by the greedy quickly raged out of control. Megaspells rained from the skies. Entire lands were swallowed in flames and fell beneath the boiling oceans. Life on this island was almost extinguished, their spirits becoming part of the ambient radiation that blanketed the lands. A quiet darkness fell across the island...

...But it was not, as some had predicted, the end of the world. Instead, the apocalypse was simply the prologue for another bloody chapter in this island's history. In the early days, thousands were spared the horrors of the holocaust by taking refuge in enormous underground shelters known as Coffers. But when they emerged, they had only the hell of the wastes to greet them. All except those in Coffer 15, for on that fateful day when spellfire rained from the sky, the giant steel door of Coffer 15 clanged shut and never re-opened.