The world suddenly exploded.

In moments, what had been a calm, peaceful day was instantly transformed into a burning war zone. Taularian and Auldian troops marched into your scorched village, taking any points - or people - of interest into custody of their empires. Smoke and ash filled the sky as the enormous shadows of dragons flitted above. Monsters allied to the sides of their respective empires ravaged the battlefield. Mages and witches made the very essence of the environment around them bend to their will, struggling to turn the tide of the skirmish. It was chaos.

You awoke on a few charred planks, smoke filling your lungs. Everything was ablaze, even the skies. The scent of blood, ash, and, most prominently, death malingered in the air. Giant shadows passed above, somewhere in the dark clouds. Indescribable monstrosities roamed the streets, looking for survivors and fighting with each other. Suddenly, a crooked door was kicked down, and a Taularian soldier stood in its place. "Get up! They'll be here soon, and we need to move fast!" He spoke in a hushed, hasty tone that made you fear for you life. His hand, gloved in chainmail, extended for you to grab it.