The Hall of Vengeance

In the year of medieval warfare and uprisings between powerful knights and warlords, battling to see which warrior clan is worthy to dawn the armour. In the large Kingdom of Xoth, lays a demolished castle that stood since the War of the Knights, a war that has existed during the time of King Jarrod the First; a time of total casualty. The war has died down, and the native Knights of Xoth have declared victory. However, the country is still war torn, the soil filled with the blood of dead peasants, who are holding on though, holding on to what little they have, hoping to relieve their families and forget the Knight Wars, which left them tortured with fear, enough fear to keep them shacked up in their homes. It has not been different since the new king took the reigns, King Jarrod the Ninth.

The dawn has fallen and night has taken its place in a small town right outside of Memnonius, the sky has faded from a joyous hue of orange to a sullen hue of violet. Afterwards, the warm sun that was under the guise of the horizon made the cold moon enjoin the sky of stars, flickering in the celestial distance as if they were flames of the galaxy. The town was in such a riveting silence, only with the annoying sound of creaking from a tavern sign, which rested on the platforms of light wind. It was a rickety old thing with worn paint, splintered wood and rusty chains. Not even the rats in the odorous stench of the tainted gutters emerged.