Prologue
Sometime in the distant past

The winds carried with them the acrid stench of fire, not just a fire that burned at the leisure of man for the sole purpose of his enjoyment, but the scent of a fire that destroyed and brought only pain and suffering to the world. A lone hawk circled above the scene of chaos that unfurled itself below like some macabre play that would have been a common sight in the Abyss itself. People milled around the center of the city like cattle that had found their backs to a fence and unable to do anything about it, while from the outer edges of this once great metropolis, armed men poured forth over the once mighty walls in droves. The avian eyes saw the look of greed and hatred that etched these invaders faces who so readily committed rape, arson, murder, thievery, and a general defilement of what was good in humanity. They were the forces that had been unleashed by the Usurper who so presumptuously hailed himself as the new Emperor of Yintul. Hell itself appeared as if it had opened up and spilled forth its denizens into the streets below, madness and chaos reigned now.

Dark gray storm clouds gathered above the city as if the world itself sensed its very end, they heralded a new age, and, although they did not bring wind or rain, they brought with them a sense of doom that showered down to the populace below inducing a widespread sense of utter hopelessness. The end had come, a kingdom that had known nothing but that of peace and prosperity had found itself in the throes of a bloody civil war and was even now in the midst of defeat. A potter cried in horror, as he was strapped to the very wheel that was his livelihood as the brutes that had entered his home began to rape his wife. They had cut off his hands earlier with savage delight and after they finished “sporting” with the Goodman’s wife, they attempted to toss his wares back in forth in a mockery of a common game played by street children. Each and every time one of his creations fell to the floor, a small part of him died even as the lifeblood that pumped within him seeped out to pool underneath his body. By the time the light of life had finally left his eyes, a look of sadness had permanently etched itself upon his now clay-like face. A city guard cried in agony as he was stabbed over and over, yet he refused to let the hordes of the men he held back within the doorframe of the house, which he defended with his life. Finally however he could take no more, and with a slight falter he met his end at the tip of a spear to the eye, dropping his sword with a loud clang, a sound that echoed its doom to the servant women beyond, who even now cowered in fear. Elsewhere a young girl with big blue eyes and dressed in a dress that bespoke the richness of her class ran into an alley only to be promptly followed by two hulking brutes of men with their intent clearly written upon their dirty faces. When they finally cornered the terrified and now weeping young lass, they ripped her clothes from her body and left her holding the rags of her dress to her body protectively while they squabbled over who would be first. The look of utter despair and the way in which she clung to her past was a story that was being repeated throughout the city. However it was more than that, it was a symbol of the times that were happening at this very moment. Fore the people of the capital city of Toth clung to the trappings of their once glorious past even as the invaders raped the city for all it was worth, destroying a thing of beauty that could never be replaced.

The hordes of invaders crawled over the wreckage of this city in the grip of a bloody revolt and to they eyes of the avian watcher they were no more than ants crawling over the carcass of that of any herd animal. Their good order and discipline that had kept them in ranks earlier in the day, the very leadership that had led them to victory on the battlefield, seemed to have simply eroded away as the army fought over the spoils of war. However as the Usurper’s hordes crawled even deeper within, the generals of the horde was even now beginning to once more reign in their savage men, although it was only happening on the very outskirts of the town were the fiercest looting and raping had finally began to die down like a campfire’s embers.

Deeper in the city a towering monolith of a structure stood in almost the exact center. Its dark granite walls that soured to touch the sky set it apart from the lesser structures that surrounded it like courtiers. This structure that stood all alone and reached for the sky, was the last bastion of Toth and the personal abode of its King. The people of the city referred to it, as the Hand of the King, for its uppermost crenellations resembled that of fingers as it soured some ten stories into the air. Standing atop that structure stooped in despair stood the figure of a lady somewhere in the later years of her life, age had yet to take away the beauty of her face but the steely gray of her hair marked her as one who had lived for a long time and was just entering the twilight of their years. Her name was Desarna and she was the last of the Allied Kingdom’s Royal Household, besides the Usurper. She had not always been as she was now. What seemed an eternity ago, she had been the youngest daughter of Baron Yuvin, whose only claim to nobility was a small parcel of land. However, that parcel of land just happened to be at the mouth of a very busy river that brought much trade into the heart of the Allied Kingdoms, and with it a status that made the Baron quite proud of himself. Being the youngest daughter, Desarna’s only dream was to simply manage the family estate and settle down peacefully with some handsome man in Barcona. Barcona had once been all that she had longed for, and then all of that came to a sudden stop when she beheld a rakishly handsome man with a crooked smile. His dashing good looks and long raven black hair combined perfectly with a pair of dark blue eyes that instantly melted her heart. She fell even more in love when she found out how charming and intelligent this man really was. However, she was never prepared to learn that he was the heir apparent; it had been quite a debacle back in those days, that of her and the heir apparent who she simply knew as “Lord Kelvin”. He had swept her off her feet and in turn he himself had fallen madly in love with her, a romantic love straight from the bard’s tales. It wasn’t until her father hosted the Springwater Dance at his court that she found out that “Lord Kelvin” was in fact “Prince Kelvin”. At that moment her world came crashing down around her as she saw the man she had come to love dearly depart before her eyes. A smile ghosted its way upon her face as she recalled their perilous courtship. If she only knew back then what she knew now it all would have been easier. Who would have ever thought that the King and Queen would have turned out to be such gentle individuals that they would allow their son to choose his bride? With a sigh she turned around to look behind her.

“Who would have ever thought that I would be here in this place that I stand, now all alone.” Gentle tears threatened to fill her eyes as sorrow sought to take hold of her heart. Before that could happen, however, she turned her eyes once more upon what lay below and let thoughts of anger take hold instead.

Once she had been proud to name the usurper her grandson, but now he had turned her heart to ice and brought the deepest despair not only to her, but to the kingdoms as well. Today had marked his final triumph as he had slaughtered the Great Army and took with it the King, his father, and his elder brother before entering the city to ransack it. After hearing the news of their loss her daughter in law had taken her life with a knife to the heart as despair consumed her soul. Although the hopelessness that was even now rampaging throughout the city griped her heart in its icy cold grasp, her tear-filled green eyes could not be torn away from the scene below.

Even now as she surveyed the defilement of Toth far below, she could see the Usurper make his way slowly to the Hand. She knew that the Royal Guard that waited down below could not even begin to imagine the threat that crawled its way towards them. They were all good men who had devoted their lives to protecting her family and even now in its darkest hour they would stand fast and lay down their very lives for an ideal that to them held more meaning than life itself. These were the last days of the Allied Kingdoms and to some death was a preferable alternative than the iron hard rule of the Usurper. A cold breeze chose that moment to whip its way about the crenellations causing her to grasp her shawl tighter and was the catalyst that finally let her tear her eyes away from the madness below to turn them instead to where she stood. This small garden had been a bastion of peace and serenity for the family for untold years, and even now the very sight of it lent her strength. Murmuring a soft prayer to the earth goddess, Desarna walked wearily over to a stone bench that faced a very small fountain built to simulate the city of Toth. Here, where once she had spent countless hours with her husband, she could find a measure of peace as the end inexorably came.