The Empyreon Age

by Guran

Return of the Empyreon

Nothing is eternal. No man, no river, no world. A painful fact, contained in the final lesson Azedor taught his former student. Taught by killing Astorsun in single combat with one single stroke of divine light. The dark elf forces crumbled without their leader, scared of their own madness they fled back into the murky shadows they came from.

Sense returned to the world, but she had changed a lot. Barren wastelands lay where flowers once bloomed and the mist of death stirred where the lost souls of wars would linger until judgement day. The splitted races were now so diverse, none dared to say how many differences had grown during the previous war.

Weak and shocked were the many races in the wake of war. An easy prey for those wishing to enslave them. And unknown to even Azedor, the Empyreons prepared to re-enter the world and claim it once more. Alliances were forged, bonds of friendship and rivalry brewed. It is stated that they all wanted the best, but caused the worst as they rallied the races of Orkfia under their banner.

The nightmare wouldn't end, to whatever abyss it would lead, as the chains of war were too tight. The Empyreons were without mercy, their goals were stated true. But they forgot about the greater good, resulting in more tragic wars. Merely fifty years after the hope returned, destruction rained upon Orkfia once again.

Written for Orkfia Classic.

Last updated: February 2012