The dark gods promised your people power and freedom.

For a time, they provided. Your bodies grew strong. Women were subjugated. Men fought and coveted. Only strength and ambition was celebrated.

In truth, it was miserable. But you were all drunk on freedom and power, so you could delude yourselves that you were better than the creator, Moradaia.

Then came the faithful of the light. Elves and Amazons marching from the north together, your people never stood a chance. Few even died in the fighting before it was over. Now most of the astray males have been taken to be rehabilitated and reformed.

Some slipped through the grasp of the light. Like you.

You’ve wandered for weeks now, surviving in the wilds. Even more miserable of an existence than your misguided “freedom” was. The false-power of the dark gods has worn off, your body has become smaller and weak.

Unknowingly, you have come into the Elven lands now, drawn by the verdancy of the forest.

You encounter another for the first time since the war.

“Hello?” calls the ginger Elf’s voice, it's kind and even-toned. “Is someone there? I mean no harm! It is okay to come out!”

You had made just a small sound but her Elven ears picked it up so easily. You dropped behind some bushes immediately but she’s only twenty-feet away. Your heart is hammering. She looks like a mage with that staff, even if she weren’t you wouldn’t stand a chance of fighting her.

She has not seen you yet though.