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I am currently working on updating this page. As a warning, things could get horrifyingly messy round' these parts. Also, take pity on a busy man. I tussle with myself as to how much info I should release before I feel the overall painting is ready to be viewed by non-Graay eyes. In the coming months I may start posting more images/info. A demo is in the works, but is absurdly messy at the moment.
Update: Thar Be Episodic Content Ahoy!
The game was getting rather unwieldy. Between file size and sheer craziness in RPG Maker itself, I've decided to most likely split the game into thirds, maybe?
Possibly.
As always, comments and criticism is highly appreciated. Tell me I suck if you need to, but at least let me know!
In the dim histories, remembered only by the darkened ruins of grandeur now lost, our people were the chosen of all the Children. Tasked as wardens of the Creator’s great works, we lorded over the lands below from our cities amidst the heavens. Haughty in our wisdom and power; blinded to the chasm looming before us by our hubris, we grew cold to those whom we were tasked to uplift and to the oaths forged into our very blood.
It is upon the arrogance and foolhardy pursuit of further glories that our ancestors built the torment of the world. The Fall is our curse; the punishment for unbearable sins.
As the corrupting Shadows flow over the lands, it is to the past we must look for our salvation. Once before we have abandoned the duty given us, now the Creator has seen fit to grant our people one chance to make amends. I pray; for the sake of the world and of all the Children, that we have grown from our folly. With the Prophecy to guide us, the Light of the Creator to uphold us, we will make war upon the ancient foe in desperate defense of our existence.
Foretold at the moment of creation by the Light made flesh, for a time when the world drowns in sorrow and the Shadow of Fear rests heavily upon the hearts of the Children.
Thusly it was written that Thirty Ages and One Day shall turn afore the sins of the Eldest come acircle.
When all the Light of the world dims, as all hope is fleeting
When upon the Alabaster Throne sits Fear and upon the Golden Throne sits Despair
Reborn again shall be the Light
He shall be a beacon of the Light to wash clean the Fallen
His sword shall be a ray of dawn to pierce the Heart of Dhoome
His word shall be judgment
His will shall be suffered
He shall set free the Children in his fury
Upon the precipice he shall stand vigilant and come to know his Truth
The Third Empire is in disarray, the Church has been defaced and the faith of the land falters, and the lesser kingdoms of the Children wage open war amongst themselves. What precious few vestiges remain of the glory and magnificence of ancient times are beginning to fade, and the Children of the Creator are beset by strife and pain.
Even now whispers of rebellion echo through halls of the Empire’s seat of power: Rumaire. Long buried divisions are beginning to mar the walls of the apparently pristine Empire; Royal house against Noble House, Common House trampled underneath both. Kept secret from the Empire at large, skirmishes with the Fallen have brought uncertainty to the victory paid for so dearly nearly many ages past. Despite all efforts, the rumors spread and the words of the city are tinged with fear. Very soon blood will stain crimson the alabaster stones of the mountain city.
Amidst all of the bureaucratic maneuvering of the Empire, the long standing Order of the Light Beholden have lost face with both the Eldest and the younger races of the land. Overbearing, and drunk on power and haughty elitism, the Church have pushed the Southlands and Baronies to turn their back on the faith. Crystal worship has sprung up like chokeweeds throughout the populace. Desperate for control, the Order have reinstated the ancient laws of the First Empire and are brutally punishing those who’s belief in the Creator has waned. Where the violence of the Capitol is only waiting to break the skin, the actions of the Church are a raw wound; the blood of the innocent seeping into the ground.
Foulest of all, are the atrocities strangling the Lesser Kingdoms. Chaos rules the Southlands and the kingdoms of Man. As the Empire draws inward to face its own troubles, the stability it lent the south has vanished, leaving the pillars of order to collapse. It has been two full ages since the last Imperial Legion sailed north. Two thousand years to the Eldest is a lifetime, to Man it is eternity. The Empire has nearly been forgotten by the lesser races of the south, tales of its majesty are but legends. Nations vie for power amidst the ruins of great cities abandoned ages ago. Warlords and tyrants capitalize of the abandonment of the faith by the mortals. Countless thousands are dying in the name of trumped of bandit kings and mercenary lords, oaths given to whatever idols their leaders conjure up. Along the frontier shadowed beasts ravage the lands, hinting at the festering sickness hidden beneath the violence. The Children’s lifeblood flows freely upon the rocks, the death of Man draws near.
In the dark the ancient enemy stirs. Fiercely hungry, the Shadow lusts for ruin. Where has the Light fled, what has become of our Champion? What terror have we wrought?
Update: Thar Be Episodic Content Ahoy!
The game was getting rather unwieldy. Between file size and sheer craziness in RPG Maker itself, I've decided to most likely split the game into thirds, maybe?
Possibly.
As always, comments and criticism is highly appreciated. Tell me I suck if you need to, but at least let me know!

In the dim histories, remembered only by the darkened ruins of grandeur now lost, our people were the chosen of all the Children. Tasked as wardens of the Creator’s great works, we lorded over the lands below from our cities amidst the heavens. Haughty in our wisdom and power; blinded to the chasm looming before us by our hubris, we grew cold to those whom we were tasked to uplift and to the oaths forged into our very blood.
It is upon the arrogance and foolhardy pursuit of further glories that our ancestors built the torment of the world. The Fall is our curse; the punishment for unbearable sins.
As the corrupting Shadows flow over the lands, it is to the past we must look for our salvation. Once before we have abandoned the duty given us, now the Creator has seen fit to grant our people one chance to make amends. I pray; for the sake of the world and of all the Children, that we have grown from our folly. With the Prophecy to guide us, the Light of the Creator to uphold us, we will make war upon the ancient foe in desperate defense of our existence.

Foretold at the moment of creation by the Light made flesh, for a time when the world drowns in sorrow and the Shadow of Fear rests heavily upon the hearts of the Children.
Thusly it was written that Thirty Ages and One Day shall turn afore the sins of the Eldest come acircle.
When all the Light of the world dims, as all hope is fleeting
When upon the Alabaster Throne sits Fear and upon the Golden Throne sits Despair
Reborn again shall be the Light
He shall be a beacon of the Light to wash clean the Fallen
His sword shall be a ray of dawn to pierce the Heart of Dhoome
His word shall be judgment
His will shall be suffered
He shall set free the Children in his fury
Upon the precipice he shall stand vigilant and come to know his Truth

The Third Empire is in disarray, the Church has been defaced and the faith of the land falters, and the lesser kingdoms of the Children wage open war amongst themselves. What precious few vestiges remain of the glory and magnificence of ancient times are beginning to fade, and the Children of the Creator are beset by strife and pain.
Even now whispers of rebellion echo through halls of the Empire’s seat of power: Rumaire. Long buried divisions are beginning to mar the walls of the apparently pristine Empire; Royal house against Noble House, Common House trampled underneath both. Kept secret from the Empire at large, skirmishes with the Fallen have brought uncertainty to the victory paid for so dearly nearly many ages past. Despite all efforts, the rumors spread and the words of the city are tinged with fear. Very soon blood will stain crimson the alabaster stones of the mountain city.
Amidst all of the bureaucratic maneuvering of the Empire, the long standing Order of the Light Beholden have lost face with both the Eldest and the younger races of the land. Overbearing, and drunk on power and haughty elitism, the Church have pushed the Southlands and Baronies to turn their back on the faith. Crystal worship has sprung up like chokeweeds throughout the populace. Desperate for control, the Order have reinstated the ancient laws of the First Empire and are brutally punishing those who’s belief in the Creator has waned. Where the violence of the Capitol is only waiting to break the skin, the actions of the Church are a raw wound; the blood of the innocent seeping into the ground.
Foulest of all, are the atrocities strangling the Lesser Kingdoms. Chaos rules the Southlands and the kingdoms of Man. As the Empire draws inward to face its own troubles, the stability it lent the south has vanished, leaving the pillars of order to collapse. It has been two full ages since the last Imperial Legion sailed north. Two thousand years to the Eldest is a lifetime, to Man it is eternity. The Empire has nearly been forgotten by the lesser races of the south, tales of its majesty are but legends. Nations vie for power amidst the ruins of great cities abandoned ages ago. Warlords and tyrants capitalize of the abandonment of the faith by the mortals. Countless thousands are dying in the name of trumped of bandit kings and mercenary lords, oaths given to whatever idols their leaders conjure up. Along the frontier shadowed beasts ravage the lands, hinting at the festering sickness hidden beneath the violence. The Children’s lifeblood flows freely upon the rocks, the death of Man draws near.
In the dark the ancient enemy stirs. Fiercely hungry, the Shadow lusts for ruin. Where has the Light fled, what has become of our Champion? What terror have we wrought?
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