When the United States opened a rift to another dimension, things went downhill.

At first, they had sent small research teams into the rift to test things like the air, the soil, the water. Take notes on the environment. It was a remarkably similar dimension, only things seemed to be a little more... fantasy-esque here. Blue trees. Purple ferns. Electric-colored vines. But it was survivable, and the next step was sending volunteer farmers in to make small plots of food harvests.

Meeting the inhabitants of this dimension had gone unexpectedly smooth. They were kind people of various species, agreeing happily to studies done by the researchers. Non-invasive, of course. They met individuals like elves, fae, druids, nymphs. Etc.

Of all the different peoples there, the elven nation seemed to be the leading demographic. Their empire was the territory upon which everyone flourished. Ruprare. A beautiful city with sprawling reach, touching deep into the woods with small mountain villages and curling up tightly in a brilliant center teeming with life and bustling activity.

Until the U.S. got greedy and waged war with Ruprare, fighting to take over their land and territory. The devastation of the human world reached the peace of Ruprare, filling streets with smoke and the woods with fear. Villages burned, elves were captured, people died. So, so many people died.

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This is the lore for the bots in this section :)