Fifteen years ago. The god Kaizer descended upon the mortal realm, and together with his chosen people the Valkans, declared war against all nations and caused chaos and destruction...
"We! The new order! Shall conquer and build a new nation! One that will last for all eternity! Under one ruler! And under one god! This! As the king of the Valkan people! And as your future ruler! I promise you! We shall vanquish those who oppose us! And we shall conquer those below us! Rejoice! Oh kingdom of Isdonia, for you shall be the first of many sacrifices!"
"All hail! Kaizer!"
Faced with a sudden predicament, the kingdom of Isdonia were shocked at the sight of Valkan's might and bold statement. As they rallied their men to take arms and fight, surrounded by enemies from left to right, they bolstered their resolve as they cried...
"Long live Isdonia! Long live the king!"
With no time to waste, the Valkans marched with haste. While ignoring Isdonia's defenses, they stormed their outer walls and breached through their bolted gates...
Devoid of care and absent remorse, the Valkans carried their orders swiftly, precisely with no discourse. Hacked and slashed everyone even those without recourse...
Consequently, the once beautiful kingdom of Isdonia is now filled with death and gore. Scattered amongst its streets were orphans shattered to their very core...
As harrowing screams of agony filled the narrow halls, fathers carried on with bravery to defend the hallowed walls...
But the fires continued to burn, with no rubble left unturned. The people cried out in sorrow, wishing they were never born...
Isdonia is no more, as their king watched in horror, his face filled with tears, while his guards fell in honor...
As the smoke and dust settle and the skies engulfed in darkness. The kingdom of Isdonia fell in ruins, laid waste in a matter of moments...
After the fall of Isdonia, a tragedy marked in history. The Valkans resumed their vendetta, towards those they deemed unworthy...
As time flew by with no rest to ponder, death kept rising through the land and yonder. While the kingdoms fell, one after another, homes burned to ashes and families were torn asunder...
Faced with such an obvious threat, and yet no one seems to wonder? As the war rages on, yet feigned eyes continue to wander...
Oblivious to the danger it poses, all they can think of is self-preservation. For those who were born in peace and comfort, sloth is such a fitting description...
Like lambs destined for the slaughterhouse, they sealed their fate upon the courthouse...
Such is the fate of mankind, left behind their dignity, with no sight of unity...
The brave sought refuge in the lands far beyond, only to be rejected, hated, and scorned. Unable to hide and flee from their pursuers, some were captured and some were put in skewers...
Yet, some of them souls crossed the badlands bare, with her emerald eyes and fiery hair, trekking the treacherous cave of Argoul's lair, behold a brave young girl with nothing to spare...
"Shhh... Don't look back, Princess Rammi... Hyah!..."
The knight though old and badly injured, he calmly said so, as he rode his mighty steed, along with his mistress in tow...
Over time, more kingdoms fell and the Valkans grew. The god-king passed down a decree to its remaining few...
"Bow down to me, as your god and emperor, serve me and I will grant thee thy salvation! For, I, Kaizer, am kind and merciful."
Declaration through bold and clear, they were stricken with a sudden fear, intimidating as though may appear, left with no choice but to adhere...
"We bow to you, oh great and merciful god, all hail Kaizer!"
And for those who did not acknowledge him and refused of his goodwill. A curse was placed upon them, binding them as slaves, against their will...
"From this day forth, you shall forever be called the Fallen, curs-ed be the day you were born, until you die with scorn."
Throughout the years, the Fallen endured great pain and suffering...
And countless times they cried and bowed to their gods without ceasing...
"Oh gods, we beseech thee, we offer thee thy humble offerings! We beg thee to deliver us from evil!"
But their prayers fell on deaf ears. For their gods couldn't see, speak or hear...
Left with no choice, the Fallen took matters into their own hands...
"We march! Towards freedom!"
Only to be short-lived with swords on their necks towards the end...
Their blood spilled the halls, as their heads rolled across, and their bodies displayed naked inside the prison walls...
"Brother! No!"
Yet, amongst these hopeless masses, the Algur tribe never wavered. Steadfast in their beliefs, they never once staggered...
Holding on to a certain promise, locked deep inside their hearts. A prophecy is foretold, awaiting to be unraveled...
"On the reddest of moons, a man born of suffering shall rise from its ashes. On his left is a golden medallion, and on his right is the mark of kings. Uniting all nations, as he rides the great dragon Melika. With a million swords behind his back, he shall liberate the land beyond."
Day after day, year after year, the Algur patiently awaits this future, for this old story has long been told and a new tale is about to unfold...