Many years ago, I arrived at the training grounds as a young and eager aspiring Warlord, eager to prove myself in the most challenging of arenas. Armed with a brave heart and a strategic mind that yearned for glorious battles, I knew the road ahead was a tough one. The path I would walk was filled with bloody battles and mighty competitors. But I might also find powerful allies and loyal soldiers if I could only prove myself worthy of being their leader.
Glory and great rewards beckoned from the frigid plains of the north to the mercilessly hot deserts of the south, from prosperous and ancient cities to new and exciting towns, all the way to Conqueror’s City—and I answered the call.
Travelling across the world, experiencing new lands and cultures, I chronicled my adventures and the stories that unfolded during my many years of living and battling in this world. Now, I’m here to tell you my story, before I retire to a scholarly life, and welcome new Heroes to take my place.
Dedication and perseverance were the name of the game, and while I explored this strange new world I got the feeling that those who were brave enough to fight for control would reign supreme and seize the crown.
I fought tooth and nail amongst the scattered bricks of castle walls torn asunder, and rose from nothing to become a true Warlord.
After my initial victory, it seemed like there was nothing but opportunity on the horizon—to conquer, and to fight new enemies from strange, frigid lands.
As the Sons of the Steppes descended from the north, it became clear that a battle as long as time itself would soon begin, and the wrath of the nomads was just one of many challenges ahead.
Just as one set of rebels was dispelled, another arrived to take their place. The nomads had driven out many of my countrymen, who, not content with staying defeated, travelled south to Sicania to recruit a band of merciless mercenaries, armed to the teeth to exact vengeance and restore their glory—for a price.
These soldiers of fortune counted precise crossbowmen, cavalry killers, and agile swordsmen amongst their deadly ranks, and their hammers of reckoning fell upon the land like an anvil. However, we Heroes were blessed with a new tool to fend off any advances, a Maul fit to take down any marauder.
As nomads, noblemen, and sellswords all fought for dominion, the battles for victory became more complicated and numerous than ever before—but a new challenger was about to appear. The Anadolu Empire, noticing the wealth and power of the lands surrounding them, threw their hat into the ring under the banner of Sultan Fatih Suleyman IV, a keen tactician who named himself heir to the Conqueror's City, however unrightfully.
His army's prowess was undeniable. The tactical nature of battles took a sharp turn as patience and strategy ruled the day. With soldiers obliterated left and right, a new power rose, and while the blood of the empire was spilled, their ancestral enemies were finally driven from the land.
As the Anadolan Empire sat back on the haunches of victory, and their region became powerful and wealthy, tales began to spread of the stories that led to such a spectacular uprising—the Anadolans’ century-old conflict with the Kingdom of Empyros. Led by a reckless king desperate to restore his kingdom to its former glory, he mustered an army of knights known as the Symmachean Brotherhood and set out in search of treasure and territory.
Empyrean forces stumbled upon the Anadolu region along with the Brotherhood as trusted allies. However, that trust would soon be broken as gold and bloodlust turned them against each other. The struggle turned ferocious, and Empyrean fire weapons desecrated the forests and farmlands in the white-hot flames of war.
Thus, a legacy of fire had been stoked in the hearts of the citizens of Andalou, that would burn ferociously for years to come.
As winter took the land in its icy grip, the cover of harsh snowstorms was the perfect opportunity for hordes of bandits and renegades to conquer Ostaria. The Desecrators were exiles who thrived in the freezing darkness, and enacted their cruelty on the orders of a mysterious figure known only in legends as the Scourge of Winter.
It was up to me, my allies, and my fearless Units to push back against this terror. Joining forces with fellow Heroes, Kings, and Thanes alike, we made a stand to deliver Ostaria from evil.
Although the war for the North was won, there was no time to rest. As winter’s grip began to thaw, a new enemy rose from the forests of Ungverija. Strange lights danced amongst the pines, and lupine howls could be heard across the land. The demented worshippers of an ancient wolf-god broke out from their trap, and the Sons of Fenrir ravaged the land seeking to enthrone their lead as king by any means necessary.
This devoted and deranged army struck fear into the hearts of the citizens, and only a band of warrior Northmen could push back their traitorous kin. The wolves of Ragnarok had arrived, and together we set out to save the land from these heralds of destruction.
A new golden age was upon us. The Qian Empire opened the Golden Road and welcomed warlords to explore the once-secretive region of Longting, take in its legends and lore, and share in its opportunities. Among these was a new and curious weapon named the Pike, capable of long-reaching jabs and impressive slashes.
This era of peace and calm allowed me to recruit new and interesting soldiers to my Warband, including a highly-trained order of warrior monks, a garrison who had defended Linwu Fortress for 40 years, and a corps who wielded the great bladed ‘modao’. With these new allies by my side, and a dynasty that promised prosperity for all, endless victories and glory felt guaranteed.
Peacetime seemed like it would never end, and Warlords (including myself) amassed great wealth and recruited strong new allies during this affluent era. However, lurking in the shadows a new threat would decimate the Borderlands.
This evil figure known only as the Tyrant spread darkness across the land, enslaving, slaughtering, and conscripting innocent townspeople into his dreadful regime. It was clear this monster would not stop until his nefarious agenda was fulfilled, and the people of the lands came together to put a stop to his tyranny with whatever weapons we could find. Inexperienced farmers and veteran cavalry alike rallied together under one banner to vanquish this new evil, and prevailed.
As the dust settled from perilous battles for peace, another fight reared its ugly head.
Aelba, otherwise known as the Highlands, had long been subjected to a brutal military occupation by its neighbour, the Kingdom of Loegria. Not satisfied with in-fighting between clans and civil war, the Highlanders chieftains came together to unite their clans and push back against the Loegrians for freedom, with Heroes like myself eager to lend a hand in this honourable pursuit.
Fresh from a defeat at the hands of the Highlanders and their allies, the glorious kingdom of Pays-de-la-Gloire was the Loegrians’ next target. With their wealth depleted from war, this sparkling gem of the old Empire offered illustrious industry to pillage, from shipbuilding to winemaking.
However, the people of Pays-de-la-Gloire had an ace up their sleeve. A fearless warrior-seer named Gabrielle-Mäelys. She rallied paragons of virtue in the form of brave knights and skilled healers to her cause, and made her divine visions of victory a reality, alongside the Heroes of the land.
When the Sons of Fenrir landed on the shores of Ungverija so long ago, chaos reigned in their wake. When they were repelled, they were warned never to return, lest no mercy be shown.
Not content to heed that warning, a new leader emerged from the shadows. Harald the Slaughterer, a former palace bodyguard of Reginopolis, returned to fulfil his destiny to become king of the Northlands or else resign himself to a cold afterlife in Helheim. Villages were torn asunder, raided, and pillaged to near decimation. Only my fellow Heroes and I had a chance to repel this new dark force and protect the lands we had come to love.
Soon it was yet again peacetime in Reginopolis, and the new Emperor Hadrianus—who inherited the Empire from his father, the Sultan—ruled with a light touch that left Warlords like me able to carve out our own personal fiefdoms.
However, he was eager to gain favour among his subjects, and thus brought back an ancient bloodsport—the Gladiator Games. Having restored the Colosseum, Heroes stepped up to the plate to prove their strength, superiority, and prowess over each other, and warriors from distant lands took up arms to throw their hats into the ring. As crowds rushed to the city to take in the sanguineous entertainment, shadowy forces conspired to move against the Emperor.
Chaos took Reginopolis in the wake of brutal battles in front of braying crowds, and the city lay in disarray. The Emperor was assassinated, and all the evidence pointed toward Shahir, a neighbouring state of Anadolou said to be home to legendary assassins, as the culprit. Azir, son of the late Emperor, was bereft by this brutal attack and rallied his forces to lay waste to the capital city of Shahir. All under his command were armed with a deadly new weapon—the chain dart and scimitar.
Unbeknownst to this naive young ruler, the conflict he created played directly into the hands of the assassins responsible for his father's death. As Azir moved to Shahir, the leader of the assassins harnessed the turmoil of the invasion to dispatch General Hashem and destabilise his regime.
The war machine turned, and the bite of these shadowy assassins was as cruel as the sting of Scorpio.
War continued, as it always does, and Liangyun was still in a state of conflict. Heroes and legends rose to take up arms to protect the auspicious city of Daicheng, including new corps eager to be led by illustrious Warlords.
Fiery spears and mighty steeds were let loose on the battlefield, and new technology ruled the day with a new flaming siege weapon that lay waste to soldiers with ease. As we battled in civil wars and internal conflicts, fighting new and old foes alike, we Heroes wondered if these wars would ever end, or if they would remain eternal.
As the Sakura petals fell, so too did those who stood against us. Samurai rose from the ashes of burning villages, and bands of warriors emerged with them.
Ronin and Onna-musha rallied together to support Heroes in battle, and we all swore the oath to protect the needy, dispel the rebels, and immerse ourselves in this new Sengoku era of social upheaval and warring states.
The cogs of the war machine keep turning, and from this mechanism springs new and dangerous enemies, and new crusades to embark upon. Ostaria, a land-locked region known for a noble brotherhood of knights named the Order of the Sword, watched over their territory with unwavering dedication. However, the lands they once ruled over were too tempting not to venture forth into in an attempt to capture them again.
The Order was determined to stay on top, despite their faction falling into decay from a series of bad leaders, and this brave set of knights was eager to fulfil their destiny and prove that chivalry wasn’t dead.
Heroes descended into knightfall to pledge their allegiance to the Order of the Sword, and with several bands of loyal soldiers at their disposal, they had more than enough reinforcements to fill the tall order of breaking their enclaves.
As the fires of dissent endlessly burned, and all hope seemed to be lost, new Heroes rose from the ashes. The knights prevailed, and their Queen called upon them to continue their bravery and bring light to the gloom.
Within her kingdom, three legions of soldiers lived only to protect their monarch and her land. These royal guards, cavalry, and the Queen’s knights themselves trained in hopes of joining the prestigious Round Table, and, through heroic deeds, etch their names in the legends of Avalon.
These soldiers needed a leader, and we Heroes stepped up to prove we were destined for a knight's life. We took up the sword to fight and rose to the challenge.
Every legend starts somewhere, and while my fellow Heroes and I had proved ourselves worthy of that title time and again, victory was always ready to be claimed.
A new Emperor had risen to power, and Maoyang, Liangyun, and Longting were prosperous once again. This ascent to power was stratospheric, and every Hero felt as if they had the power of dragonrise as part of this new regime.
With new allies by our side, we raged like dragonfire and rose beyond our wildest dreams.
As I watch the sunset from the Haojing Tower and lay down my sword to honour all those who have come before me, I can finally rest.
Farewell, Conqueror’s Blade, and may you always find brave new Heroes to protect this land.
Many years ago, I arrived at the training grounds as a young and eager aspiring Warlord, eager to prove myself in the most challenging of arenas. Armed with a brave heart and a strategic mind that yearned for glorious battles, I knew the road ahead was a tough one. The path I would walk was filled with bloody battles and mighty competitors. But I might also find powerful allies and loyal soldiers if I could only prove myself worthy of being their leader.
Glory and great rewards beckoned from the frigid plains of the north to the mercilessly hot deserts of the south, from prosperous and ancient cities to new and exciting towns, all the way to Conqueror’s City—and I answered the call.
Travelling across the world, experiencing new lands and cultures, I chronicled my adventures and the stories that unfolded during my many years of living and battling in this world. Now, I’m here to tell you my story, before I retire to a scholarly life, and welcome new Heroes to take my place.
Dedication and perseverance were the name of the game, and while I explored this strange new world I got the feeling that those who were brave enough to fight for control would reign supreme and seize the crown.
I fought tooth and nail amongst the scattered bricks of castle walls torn asunder, and rose from nothing to become a true Warlord.
After my initial victory, it seemed like there was nothing but opportunity on the horizon—to conquer, and to fight new enemies from strange, frigid lands.
As the Sons of the Steppes descended from the north, it became clear that a battle as long as time itself would soon begin, and the wrath of the nomads was just one of many challenges ahead.
Just as one set of rebels was dispelled, another arrived to take their place. The nomads had driven out many of my countrymen, who, not content with staying defeated, travelled south to Sicania to recruit a band of merciless mercenaries, armed to the teeth to exact vengeance and restore their glory—for a price.
These soldiers of fortune counted precise crossbowmen, cavalry killers, and agile swordsmen amongst their deadly ranks, and their hammers of reckoning fell upon the land like an anvil. However, we Heroes were blessed with a new tool to fend off any advances, a Maul fit to take down any marauder.
As nomads, noblemen, and sellswords all fought for dominion, the battles for victory became more complicated and numerous than ever before—but a new challenger was about to appear. The Anadolu Empire, noticing the wealth and power of the lands surrounding them, threw their hat into the ring under the banner of Sultan Fatih Suleyman IV, a keen tactician who named himself heir to the Conqueror's City, however unrightfully.
His army's prowess was undeniable. The tactical nature of battles took a sharp turn as patience and strategy ruled the day. With soldiers obliterated left and right, a new power rose, and while the blood of the empire was spilled, their ancestral enemies were finally driven from the land.
As the Anadolan Empire sat back on the haunches of victory, and their region became powerful and wealthy, tales began to spread of the stories that led to such a spectacular uprising—the Anadolans’ century-old conflict with the Kingdom of Empyros. Led by a reckless king desperate to restore his kingdom to its former glory, he mustered an army of knights known as the Symmachean Brotherhood and set out in search of treasure and territory.
Empyrean forces stumbled upon the Anadolu region along with the Brotherhood as trusted allies. However, that trust would soon be broken as gold and bloodlust turned them against each other. The struggle turned ferocious, and Empyrean fire weapons desecrated the forests and farmlands in the white-hot flames of war.
Thus, a legacy of fire had been stoked in the hearts of the citizens of Andalou, that would burn ferociously for years to come.
As winter took the land in its icy grip, the cover of harsh snowstorms was the perfect opportunity for hordes of bandits and renegades to conquer Ostaria. The Desecrators were exiles who thrived in the freezing darkness, and enacted their cruelty on the orders of a mysterious figure known only in legends as the Scourge of Winter.
It was up to me, my allies, and my fearless Units to push back against this terror. Joining forces with fellow Heroes, Kings, and Thanes alike, we made a stand to deliver Ostaria from evil.
Although the war for the North was won, there was no time to rest. As winter’s grip began to thaw, a new enemy rose from the forests of Ungverija. Strange lights danced amongst the pines, and lupine howls could be heard across the land. The demented worshippers of an ancient wolf-god broke out from their trap, and the Sons of Fenrir ravaged the land seeking to enthrone their lead as king by any means necessary.
This devoted and deranged army struck fear into the hearts of the citizens, and only a band of warrior Northmen could push back their traitorous kin. The wolves of Ragnarok had arrived, and together we set out to save the land from these heralds of destruction.
A new golden age was upon us. The Qian Empire opened the Golden Road and welcomed warlords to explore the once-secretive region of Longting, take in its legends and lore, and share in its opportunities. Among these was a new and curious weapon named the Pike, capable of long-reaching jabs and impressive slashes.
This era of peace and calm allowed me to recruit new and interesting soldiers to my Warband, including a highly-trained order of warrior monks, a garrison who had defended Linwu Fortress for 40 years, and a corps who wielded the great bladed ‘modao’. With these new allies by my side, and a dynasty that promised prosperity for all, endless victories and glory felt guaranteed.
Peacetime seemed like it would never end, and Warlords (including myself) amassed great wealth and recruited strong new allies during this affluent era. However, lurking in the shadows a new threat would decimate the Borderlands.
This evil figure known only as the Tyrant spread darkness across the land, enslaving, slaughtering, and conscripting innocent townspeople into his dreadful regime. It was clear this monster would not stop until his nefarious agenda was fulfilled, and the people of the lands came together to put a stop to his tyranny with whatever weapons we could find. Inexperienced farmers and veteran cavalry alike rallied together under one banner to vanquish this new evil, and prevailed.
As the dust settled from perilous battles for peace, another fight reared its ugly head.
Aelba, otherwise known as the Highlands, had long been subjected to a brutal military occupation by its neighbour, the Kingdom of Loegria. Not satisfied with in-fighting between clans and civil war, the Highlanders chieftains came together to unite their clans and push back against the Loegrians for freedom, with Heroes like myself eager to lend a hand in this honourable pursuit.
Fresh from a defeat at the hands of the Highlanders and their allies, the glorious kingdom of Pays-de-la-Gloire was the Loegrians’ next target. With their wealth depleted from war, this sparkling gem of the old Empire offered illustrious industry to pillage, from shipbuilding to winemaking.
However, the people of Pays-de-la-Gloire had an ace up their sleeve. A fearless warrior-seer named Gabrielle-Mäelys. She rallied paragons of virtue in the form of brave knights and skilled healers to her cause, and made her divine visions of victory a reality, alongside the Heroes of the land.
When the Sons of Fenrir landed on the shores of Ungverija so long ago, chaos reigned in their wake. When they were repelled, they were warned never to return, lest no mercy be shown.
Not content to heed that warning, a new leader emerged from the shadows. Harald the Slaughterer, a former palace bodyguard of Reginopolis, returned to fulfil his destiny to become king of the Northlands or else resign himself to a cold afterlife in Helheim. Villages were torn asunder, raided, and pillaged to near decimation. Only my fellow Heroes and I had a chance to repel this new dark force and protect the lands we had come to love.
Soon it was yet again peacetime in Reginopolis, and the new Emperor Hadrianus—who inherited the Empire from his father, the Sultan—ruled with a light touch that left Warlords like me able to carve out our own personal fiefdoms.
However, he was eager to gain favour among his subjects, and thus brought back an ancient bloodsport—the Gladiator Games. Having restored the Colosseum, Heroes stepped up to the plate to prove their strength, superiority, and prowess over each other, and warriors from distant lands took up arms to throw their hats into the ring. As crowds rushed to the city to take in the sanguineous entertainment, shadowy forces conspired to move against the Emperor.
Chaos took Reginopolis in the wake of brutal battles in front of braying crowds, and the city lay in disarray. The Emperor was assassinated, and all the evidence pointed toward Shahir, a neighbouring state of Anadolou said to be home to legendary assassins, as the culprit. Azir, son of the late Emperor, was bereft by this brutal attack and rallied his forces to lay waste to the capital city of Shahir. All under his command were armed with a deadly new weapon—the chain dart and scimitar.
Unbeknownst to this naive young ruler, the conflict he created played directly into the hands of the assassins responsible for his father's death. As Azir moved to Shahir, the leader of the assassins harnessed the turmoil of the invasion to dispatch General Hashem and destabilise his regime.
The war machine turned, and the bite of these shadowy assassins was as cruel as the sting of Scorpio.
War continued, as it always does, and Liangyun was still in a state of conflict. Heroes and legends rose to take up arms to protect the auspicious city of Daicheng, including new corps eager to be led by illustrious Warlords.
Fiery spears and mighty steeds were let loose on the battlefield, and new technology ruled the day with a new flaming siege weapon that lay waste to soldiers with ease. As we battled in civil wars and internal conflicts, fighting new and old foes alike, we Heroes wondered if these wars would ever end, or if they would remain eternal.
As the Sakura petals fell, so too did those who stood against us. Samurai rose from the ashes of burning villages, and bands of warriors emerged with them.
Ronin and Onna-musha rallied together to support Heroes in battle, and we all swore the oath to protect the needy, dispel the rebels, and immerse ourselves in this new Sengoku era of social upheaval and warring states.
The cogs of the war machine keep turning, and from this mechanism springs new and dangerous enemies, and new crusades to embark upon. Ostaria, a land-locked region known for a noble brotherhood of knights named the Order of the Sword, watched over their territory with unwavering dedication. However, the lands they once ruled over were too tempting not to venture forth into in an attempt to capture them again.
The Order was determined to stay on top, despite their faction falling into decay from a series of bad leaders, and this brave set of knights was eager to fulfil their destiny and prove that chivalry wasn’t dead.
Heroes descended into knightfall to pledge their allegiance to the Order of the Sword, and with several bands of loyal soldiers at their disposal, they had more than enough reinforcements to fill the tall order of breaking their enclaves.
As the fires of dissent endlessly burned, and all hope seemed to be lost, new Heroes rose from the ashes. The knights prevailed, and their Queen called upon them to continue their bravery and bring light to the gloom.
Within her kingdom, three legions of soldiers lived only to protect their monarch and her land. These royal guards, cavalry, and the Queen’s knights themselves trained in hopes of joining the prestigious Round Table, and, through heroic deeds, etch their names in the legends of Avalon.
These soldiers needed a leader, and we Heroes stepped up to prove we were destined for a knight's life. We took up the sword to fight and rose to the challenge.
Every legend starts somewhere, and while my fellow Heroes and I had proved ourselves worthy of that title time and again, victory was always ready to be claimed.
A new Emperor had risen to power, and Maoyang, Liangyun, and Longting were prosperous once again. This ascent to power was stratospheric, and every Hero felt as if they had the power of dragonrise as part of this new regime.
With new allies by our side, we raged like dragonfire and rose beyond our wildest dreams.
As I watch the sunset from the Haojing Tower and lay down my sword to honour all those who have come before me, I can finally rest.
Farewell, Conqueror’s Blade, and may you always find brave new Heroes to protect this land.