It is the year of the Golden Oak. People of The Realms live at peace under the rule of King Maximus Bruyen IV.
Such a time is rare if one were to read the history books in the libraries. The scholars remember a time when the Enemies of the Realms threatened every border. Long, drawn out sieges were common against every keep. Youths, men and women alike, were drafted into the King's army at increasingly young ages in order to fill out the ranks. Every person in the Realms was versed in weaponry, tactics, and combat to one degree or another. It was necessary for the Realms to survive. It was only through the tactical genius of King Maximus that the Realms were able to push the sieges out and negotiate treaties with the opposing factions. Summoners of the East were hunted down and executed by members of the Ordo Invictus, a group of special mage hunters who kept their keep in the mountains to the North. The Kingdoms of the South were allied with through generous trade agreements, and together they and the Realms drove out the Raiders of the West.
For nearly the past decade, citizens have enjoyed an era of peace. The Court of Magi prospers, with those of the talent being able to practice their art freely without threat of oppression. Swords and armor are left gathering dust or rust by most who wielded them. Few outside the army keep practicing their combat technique. Children play in the streets without a care, and townsfolk go about their lives free of fear of bandits, persecution, or threat. Shopkeepers happily shout in the markets, calling out their daily wares.
It is naught but a ruse.
The Enemies of the Realms were simply lying in wait. Quiet, patient, they bode their time. The realms grew complacent in peace, and before long it was the perfect time to strike. The Summoners hadn't been entirely eradicated as was originally thought, and had swelled their ranks to terrifying levels with both the undead and demons alike. They made an alliance with the Raiders of the West. The raiders attack the Kingdoms of the South with newly enchanted weapons and arms, the likes of which had not been seen since the magi of yore. The knowledge was thought to have been lost. At the same time, the undead and demons of the Summoners attacked the Realms from both the East and West, splitting their forces in twain. The Kingdoms of the South were unable to rally to the Realms' call, preoccupied with barely being able to defend their own borders. Calls for aid also went out to the Ordo Invictus, but the runners never returned.
The Realms hardly survived the first week of the assault. Maximus rallied his forces and managed to push the enemies back, but barely. That was sixteen years ago. The realms had been at war ever since, in a perilous stalemate where the slightest error in tactics and deployment could become the tipping point of the war. Until a year ago.
Word was received from the Kingdoms of the South that the Raiders had breached their capital. They took no prisoners, slaughtering everyone caught in their path. Maximus agreed at once to have them fall back towards the Realms and to consolidate their forces in an attempt to hold off the enemy for as long as possible. Their numbers seemed endless, and so they are: each soldier that falls be it friend or foe is revived by the Summoners as an undead, and the demons are relentless. Scholars have no idea where they are getting enough power to maintain that level of summons. In truth only the elders of the Court are capable of controlling summons on their own, and even then it is no more than one or two.
The battered forces of the Kingdoms made it to the Realms and there, reinforced by detachments of the Realms' army, they were able to hold the line against the onslaught of the Raiders while the forces to the East and West were holding against the Summoners. All three fronts are desperately trying to hold their ground, and protect the citizens of the Realm.
Try as they might, they are losing. The Enemies of the Realms erode the defenses like the unrelenting waves of the coast. Each passing month, the defenders lose a little bit more ground, slowly being pushed towards the capital at the heart of the Realms.
The King has turned to you as a last resort. You are an elder Wizard of the Court, a master of portal magic. The King has asked you to open a portal to a faraway land, anywhere, as far away as you can, while your magi brethren assist with the defense effort. Only you are capable of such a feat.
You must go through the portal with a small contingent of peasants. Only a few may pass through the portal without destabilizing and closing it. Additional peasants will come through the portal as it strengthens.
Nothing else can be spared, as all fighters must remain behind to hold off the advances of the enemy, or be trained for the army to do so. You must build a settlement on the other side of the portal, capable of receiving the rest of the kingdom. You will gather food, water, and supplies in order to support the colony. You will defend the colony from attackers. You will explore the surrounding land, make alliances, and make trade routes.
The people of the Realms must abandon their home. You must prepare a place for them to go.
Your once proud nation will become known as The Distant Realms: A Kingdom Lost.
[ed. note: Mithion last edited this post 3 years, 7 months ago.]