From the Founding of Pendor - the year is 354 A King has not ruled the shattered land of Pendor for many generations. What was once a proud accomplishment of man now is steeped in the myths of folklore and told as children’s bedtime stories. Yet, the legends live on of a prophesy of hope. A tale of a champion who comes from a distant shore and unites the lords of Pendor under a single Ruler and brings peace and prosperity once again to this ravaged war-torn land. All is not as it seems as there are many powers who have their own ends in mind and an epic struggle is about to unfold. Strap on your sword, and buckle your imagination. Prepare to enter the world of Pendor and accept the challenge of the Prophesy - if you dare.
Thoughts, or what we call nightmares, circulated in the mind of Maltise. A trance of convoluted horror plaguing the very synapses of her brain. "AZI" the booming voices called out.
She opened her eyes, quaintly cracking a smile only for the sharp glint of white to be seen as she bore her demonic fangs. Outward before her was the army she has come to Pendor with. The army the goddess has bestowed for her insane malice. Twisted creatues. Fallen men who we're gifted the goddess' love.
Dozens of tall lurking figures approached her, and knelt before her cursed ebony scales. They said nothing, but the sound of sinister tongues feeling the cold air was all that took to their serpentine ears.
"Children of the Assssspsssss, go forth for the Verdant Mother. Consssume all."
So with those words spoken from her screeching voice, she turned towards the horizon of the Baccus Empire. Following suit, the tall figures behind her stood, beckoning out a howl most horrendous, raising their weaponry for the fall of men is soon to come.
Outward towards the forest, a knight-scout of the forest looked upon what was unleashed. He was afraid.
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too beautiful...