Apocalypse.

Where once the sky was a soothing blue, now it is threaded with hellish red veins that pulse with ominous intent. Meteors descend with regularity; demolishing the landscape and sparking numerous forest fires.

Smoke clogs the air of the south, as the world burns.

Hope is all but extinguished; as the three pantheons of gods wage their war in the heavens, bastions of mortal followers stand their ground against the gibbering hordes of madness and death.

Briefly.

The last of the great kingdoms gather its armies in defense of its people; praying one last time to their gods for victory and mercy.

Their prayers are answered: Great bolts of lightning ring from empty skies, felling monstrous titans and scattering goblins like water. Seraphim descend and cut great swaths through the enemy lines with holy fire, before succumbing to their hundreds of wounds. In spite of the intervention, the horde proved endless, and the humans still fight and die in a glorious, if futile, last stand.

Their memories would have been honored for generations.

From afar, the last of the mages watch in fear as the last army of Good died valiantly, and the forces of Evil march ever closer toward their settlements.

The gods are angry.

The three great pantheons are at war for the first and last time; one of the three had gained power greater than the others combined: something that never should have happened.

With Evil somehow gaining this unmatched strength, the world is ending in fire, and the Good gods of the humans can do nothing to stop it. The third pantheon, neither drawing power from Good, nor Evil, fought alongside the gods of the humans, in a frantic attempt to restore the lost balance.

Yet all their attempts to retain harmony are for naught. This world is doomed, to fire and ash.

However, even in the throes of defeat, the gods are able to enact one last plan. One last failsafe.

A single city can be saved; to carry on the legacy.

The hordes and the corruption had already spread to far too many of the cities of the last kingdom. Even if the great capital of Noxin were to be saved, the monsters now present within it would slaughter or corrupt the inhabitants beyond all hope of a future.

A single town remained untouched, far to the east. Yet it will not stay safe for long.

Already the horde advanced upon it; towering demons crushing forests and farms beneath their feet as they strode the earth. The gods have one last moment to make their choice…

The sacrifice has been made.

The last working of the Pantheon of Good is now manifest.

And so the world ends.

Rodin Everblaze

Floating in the inky blackness, I ponder my state. It feels different than a dream-vision, though the sensation is disconcerting in the same ways.

I can feel my body, though I find myself unable to summon the will to move it. It's as if I was disconnected to it, if only partially. Oddly enough, I feel like I'm moving quickly; a sensation almost like a strong wind propels me forwards.

I can't remember how I had gotten here, or who I am. I simply drift in what feels like oblivion, strangely not caring about anything at all.

At length, a point of light appears in the distance, slowly growing to a wall of pure white energy. Without any control over myself, I am approaching the wall at great speed. Idly, I wonder if the collision with the wall will kill me. It is strange, feeling only a mild curiosity about my own imminent death.

The wall of light grows to encompass my entire vision, and then suddenly, I think I strike it.

I am thrown violently into a new state of being. The world is dark again and I feel once more totally in possession of my body. Realizing I can move again, my eyes flash open, revealing that I am standing in the middle of a crowd of strangers.

Looking upon the faces around me, I realize that isn't right; I recognize these people, all of them, down to each man, woman and child. They are members of the village I serve, the village I swore to protect.

In a flood, the memories return to me.

My childhood, my name, learning to master magic at the caring hand of my father, my service in the army, the first life I saved, the first life I took, meeting my future wife, the rise of the goblins, settling into the home I would have up until the end, the birth of my beautiful daughter, the death of my wife, the fall of our sister kingdoms, and finally, the war of the gods.

With my memories returned, I look around at the crowd. I am wearing my war-robes, my staff in hand. I remember grabbing it as I entered the balcony of my tower, glaring at the first demon titan to appear on the horizon.

I remember the cascading blue lights that descended from on high, suffusing the entire town with power. I remember the presence of the gods, and the raw power of their work charging the air.

Where did the gods send us? Are we safe from the horde? Where is Sophia? I begin to panic; I can see many of the townsfolk, most of which looked like they had appeared with whatever they happened to be holding at the time of the spell.

Was everyone transported? Where is Sophia? Where’s my Daughter?

Samuel Weathers

I look on at the crowd in growing apprehension. The people are starting to grow fearful.

A product of my training, I recovered quickly from the shock of being subjected to such a disorienting spell, but the majority of the townsfolk are still reeling. There might be a panic soon if I’m not careful.

I take the opportunity to look around, trying to see where the spell had dropped us off.

I am standing near a ravine, the bottom of which edge I can't quite see. There are the remnants of an old bridge nearby, but it has long since broken and become therefore useless.

On the far side of the ravine lies a forest, there might have been a path through those trees at one point, but it has been overgrown for a long time from the looks of things.

I can’t help but feel distinctly glad that the forest lies on the other side of the ravine. It looks strangely dark and forbidding. Almost unnatural.

I am glad to turn and examine what lay in the other direction. I'm pleasantly surprised to see what looks like the ruins of an old castle.

I am no architect, but it looks salvageable. It had succumbed to the trials of time and creeping vines, but it still stands. Mostly. The gates are wooden and mostly intact, while certainly not inviting, it is far more friendly looking than the forest, and there is nowhere else to go but ravine.

One thing is readily apparent: We are far from civilization, and need to get organized quickly if we are to survive.

“Guard! Form up!” I bark out the order, cutting across the murmuring that was starting to grow. Out of the crowd, my men stiffen at the sound of my voice, and quickly make their way to the edges of the mass of humans. “I want a perimeter twenty paces from that ravine; we don’t need anyone falling today.”

Given purpose, they quickly form their ranks, brandishing the shaft of their spears like staves to encourage the increasingly restless crowd to keep back from the edge.

“Alright people, settle down! Hush!” That voice rings out with authority as well, and the crowd quiets to hear it speak. “Thank you. I think I speak for all of us when I say that whatever just happened was certainly disorienting…” A few sounds of agreement passes through the crowd, but nobody laughs. It's too soon for that.

I can see the speaker by this point. The Governor has apparently gotten two men to hoist him up on their shoulders so he can address the town before the situation further devolved into chaos. See, it's that kind of quick thinking under pressure that earned him my respect a long time ago.

“But wherever we are, we’re stuck here, so we might as well make it our home,” the Governor continues. “I can’t help but notice that we appeared right next to this structure,” he said, gesturing to the gates of the castle. “So I think we ought to take advantage of the gift our gods have given us. Yes?” he pauses, just long enough to hear no objections. “Captain Weathers!”

Having anticipated his plan a fraction of a second before he calls me, I am prepared. “The Guard is at your service, Governor Birchwood!” I reply.

“Wonderful! Would you do me the personal favor of inspecting yonder buildings to make sure it’s safe, before we all barge in there?”

“With pleasure.” I turn to my Sergeants. Which one of them was the son of an architect again? Ah, right. “Derik. Take your platoon and join me on the inspection. The rest of you stay here and run an inspection. I want to know how much gear we managed to take with us.”

We approach the gates, which open easily enough. It had been well constructed, even if the hinges are a bit rusty. It only takes three men to move.

Inside, we behold a large entry room entirely devoid of a roof. While the walls and floor are all mostly intact, what used to have been supporting columns have long since collapsed; even the rubble was swept away by the wind.

In the center stands some ornamental piece of stonework, which is interesting only in how pristinely it has stood the test of time compared to the walls and ceiling. I suspect magic at play, and warn my men not to touch the thing.

Attached to that first building, which I dub 'the Gatehouse', if only for its proximity to the gate, is a large tower with staircases going both up and down. From the gatehouse’s many windows, we can see the courtyard a dozen feet below, so I send a half that includes Derik up to see how structurally intact the upper tower was while the other half of us descend to explore the rest of the castle. As we reach the courtyard my men spread out, taking the sight in.

The place is absolutely deserted. It seems that nothing has so much as visited in a very long time.

I can make out where some buildings must have once stood; piles of rubble and half standing walls outline some traces of the ruins. At some point, some kind of tower must have fallen inwards into the courtyard, its remains are now scattered all over the place by the wind.

Oddly enough, there are a few buildings that seem minimally affected by the passage of time, creeping vines and moss notwithstanding. I might have counted the Gatehouse and attached tower among them, but they had sustained so much damage I hesitate to consider them truly preserved in any sense.

It is these preserved buildings we approach. I head for the one nearest to the gatehouse, stepping over and around blocks of fallen stonework as I do so. It is a short, one-story building, but it's wide and square, hopefully containing many rooms. As we enter where a door probably once stood, I am surprised at the height of the ceiling. If I were much taller, I’d have to duck. I am by no means the tallest among us, so this ceiling will likely be the spark of many irritations. Irritations that would flare tempers. I do not look forward to dealing with that.

The rooms are dark, which is to be expected. My guards all carry standard issue torches though, so light is no real issue. What surprises me is the lack of a smell. This is certainly not the first old ruin I've explored, and the worst part about the others had been the moldy old smell of the rotting refuse of ancient peoples. Here, I just smell old rocks. I can't decide why, but this bothers me.

The rooms I explore are not empty. Dusty pieces of wooden furniture adorn most of the rooms. It isn't a type of wood I recognize, but then, I am no woodworker. What I do know, is that tiny bedframes are scattered throughout the place, wall to wall, with small chests and cabinets taking up whatever spaces are left. There are odd crystals set in the walls, I'd have guessed for light, but they remain curiously dark.

When I called for my guards they reported much of the same. More rooms, more beds. But then one of them reports finding stairs in this complex. As intriguing as that is, I decide it will have to wait until later. We have explored what I now believe must have been a very well warded and preserved barracks, but we have other buildings to investigate.

Alexander Birchwood

I stood between the crowd and the gates, while the guard stood between the crowd and that very long drop. It had been a stressful two hour wait while Weathers was investigating the ruins. Initially it was almost easy. All the people wanted to do was find their family members. Tearful reunions and tears of relief had abounded. Not too far from him had seen the Everblazes embracing; the proud Rodin reduced to silently holding his daughter as she sobbed violently into his robes. If Birchwood had seen him cry he knew better than to remember it.

That atmosphere had passed though, as the people got a good look at the dark forest just beyond the ravine. I myself admit: the sight of that forest instilled a sort of primal fear in me. Yet the gap between us and it did provide me comfort.

At some point I began walking the crowd, answering questions as they were thrown at me and offering reassurances when I could. “Everything’s going to be fine… No, I don’t know what happened... The Captain’s looking into it... I’m glad you’re ok… Yes, we’re all in one piece… I’m afraid none of our pets came with, no… My condolences... Thank you… Just stay put, I’m sure the Captain will return soon…”

A lesser man would have groan hoarse but this was really what I did for a living. Even so, I was relieved when the good Captain and his men returned from the gates. “What news, Captain Weathers?”

“A few buildings ought to be torn down for safety, but for the most part the ruins looks good primarily for raw building materials. The few exceptions, I’d like Everblaze to look at. I suspect they've been warded considering how well they've been preserved.”

Rodin stepped forward. “I’d be glad to. Come along Sophia.”

I nodded, not objecting in the least. “I think we ought to get to work then, don’t you?”

Thus began a very long day.

Thankfully, there was a spring of groundwater that fed into a lake near the castle. The Captain had a squad of guards catching fish and cooking nearly constantly. He wasn't too sure it would last long, but we were going to need to eat, and hardly anybody had been holding food when the gods intervened.

The rest of us got to work making our new home safe for the children. Unstable walls were knocked down; rubble was cleared and set aside. Several hundred hands pulled on make-shift ropes someone had thrown together from vines to remove the top floor of a tower one of the Sergeants had deemed unsafe.

Rodin made a discovery that day that the Forge family and the Guard had loved. Apparently one of the preserved barracks had an extensive smithy and armory complex in its basement. I wasn't too sure how an underground forge made any kind of structural sense, but then, I’m no architect.

The Captain nearly had to bodily haul the Forge brothers from the basement to help work on separating usable rubble from the trash. In the end I think they even slept down there.

Mender and his assistants claimed another of the few magically preserved buildings for use as a hospital. Rodin thinks it used to be some kind of temple, but I think I recognize a town-hall when I see one. Now it’s the home of our medical patients, the handful that had been sent back from the front lines to recover a few weeks ago, and the good Healers. Luckily no new injuries have occurred since we arrived. Let’s pray it stays that way, if the gods can even still hear us.

It’s odd. I've grown up cursing the leaders that let the world slowly fall to pieces around us, and now I’m the leader of what probably is all that’s left of the human race. I still can’t wrap my head around it.

The first night is hard on all of us, especially because it starts raining just before dark.

We’re forced to use the beds in the barracks, which are way too small for anything but the children, really. Far too many of us have to sleep on these hard stone floors.