It is the Fourth Era. For more than a hundred centuries mankind has ruled unopposed over the Underscape. It is master of this world by the will of the God and through the light of the First Flame. It has become a rotting carcass, stagnant and fearful of the encroaching Dhulma. Yet even in its last days, mankind continues its eternal struggle against the dark. The mighty Ashguard, touched by the blood of God, cross the whole of the ‘Scape hunting monsters and worse. The Church keeps the faith and sings hymns laced with a spark of the Flame that uplift even the spirits of those who cannot hear. The hidden few hold a Vigil over the fire, keeping an eye on the forsaken places of the world where darkness might seep through, though all know their task to be fruitless.
Once, the Underscape was a world of light. Now only a City of Light remains. Thrice was this land ravaged by strife until it was irreversibly broken. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been lost, never to be recovered. Forget the promise of sorcery and all it could bring, for its legacy is destruction and its practices purged. Now, among the ruins of the old civilizations all manner of men and women seek fortune in whatever way they can, only to be met with disappointment and despair. To be alive in such times is to be one amongst few. It is to live in the coldest and bleakest time in human history. As the sun dims and the stars wink out one by one, all there is left to do is sing one last dirge for the Flame before it is finally snuffed out.
This is the tale of one such man, a pilgrim making his way to a mountain that is said to be the grave of Angels and the cradle of Man. Read on...