A peaceful Earth, five major powers united in global governance. An International Space Service, exploring the stars for new homes and signs of life. An ever-expanding Alternia, convinced of its own supremacy, willing to tolerate no threats, willing to acknowledge no others. A species with a history drowning in its own blood, in turning on itself, in destroying anything that seems other, in taking any excuse for a war. (That last one was humanity. Trolls are about to find out they've made a big fucking mistake.)

The halls of the Gods are empty, echoing with unheard prayers. The forces of corruption and decay are growing in power. Soon they shall sweep across the world like an unholy plague. From the deep caverns beneath the majestic Dragonshard Mountains, across the mighty Greenweald Forest, to the fair city of Porthaven on the storm-wracked coast, there are fourteen people with the mark of a divine ruler on their skin. They do not know it, but they and only they can save the world from apocalypse and ruin. So naturally, they're going to spend as long as possible arsing about slaying monsters and looting ancient temples. 'Cos, you know, adventurers.