Two generations worth of misery, death and destruction; two generations worth of madness, chaos and suffering.

Two generations worth of watching and waiting as a world upon the precipice of apocalypse slide closer and closer towards the final choking breaths of existence.

Yet to truly appreciate the End of Days and the hopeless predicament the world of Eden finds itself within today, one must go back to the beginning – the origins of the Torment, of its’ victims, and of course, its’ creators. And like any truly entertaining tale, our story begins with humble beginnings; for what appeared, at first glance, to be nothing more than a simple flu evolved into something far more sinister. The Venerated Republic of Decus, the grand benefactor and superpower of the known world of Eden, paid little heed to the fledgling days of the mysterious sickness that would later become known as the Torment. Embraced within a veritable renaissance of technological breakthroughs and cultural achievements, the Venerated Church, the monolithic ruling faction of the Republic, had never known a worthy adversary for over thirteen hundred years. Dismissing the Torment as but a common illness to be extinguished easily by the ingenuity of the Republic’s top minds, little effort was put in to handling the peculiar sickness with the severity of a plague

Embraced within a veritable renaissance of technological breakthroughs and cultural achievements, the Venerated Church, the monolithic ruling faction of the Republic, had never known a worthy adversary for over thirteen hundred years.

And, alas, such pride would be the undoing of the Republic proper. When the wretched disease had truly blossomed in its unholy glory across the lands, it had appeared that the gates of Hell itself had been opened upon the face of Eden. Countless thousands fell to the Torment in the first year alone, for the sickness did not discriminate; men, women and children had all been claimed with equal prejudice. While countless millions had simply perished due to the Torment, there had been some that had survived the initial stages of the disease – and in turn, had been subjected to a fate worse than death itself. For these forsaken souls, known colloquially as The Tormented, had turned to feral beasts, blinded with madness and rage, turning upon friend and family like wild animals. Rending their brethren countrymen from limb to limb, those unfortunate to succumb to the wounds of a Tormented would in turn become afflicted with the ungodly disease themselves. And so did the propagation of the true nature of the Torment begin; thousands upon thousands of forsaken souls cursed to spread death and disease across the Republic, their weapons of destruction not the torch or the sword, but the tooth and nail.

In the early days of the outbreak, the great Church desperately scrambled to keep order in a kingdom tainted with madness. The Apothecary Corps. worked tirelessly in an effort to understand the unholy sickness. The Holy Decusian Legion and Church Templar, the two arms of the Republic’s monolithic military mighty, were dispatched far and wide across the Republic to keep order in states that were stricken with the sickness. Most all of these efforts, however, were in vain. Where the Torment did not strike directly, its effects were felt indirectly through rioting and famine. Entire cities fell to chaos. Those states and territories that could be saved were quickly placed under martial law, while most other areas were simply lost to the wake of the Torment. In a mere six months after the first outbreaks of the Torment, nearly a quarter of the Republic has been already abandoned or lost.

The following year did not bode any better; as epidemic turned to pandemic, the Venerated Church could only watch in horror as entire city-states fell to the groves of those infected with the terrible sickness. The Torment and those afflicted with it spread like wildfire through the countryside of Vitaveus. Flooding across nation and state, town and territory; millions believed it was truly the End of Days. By the time the Church could properly utilize its forces of Templar and the Legion proper, nearly half of the continent had devolved into frenzied madness. Death ran rampant through the Republic, and millions had succumbed to the chaos which ensued.

And in the midst of this ever-encroaching darkness, this time of doubt, misery and the questioning of faith, yet another revelation emerged. For thirteen months to the day that the first known reports of the Torment emerged within the Republic, a mysterious entity arose, claiming the title of the Republic’s saviors. Inconceivably, this collective claimed to be true to life warlocks and witches; Magi, straight from the tales of Old. And true to their fantastical claims, they indeed possessed the power of what could only be described as Magic. They performed feats of unimaginable power throughout the Republic; creating food from thin air with the uttering of but a few words, healing the lame, giving voice to the mute, bestowing sight to the blind, and other veritable miracles unimaginable to the layman of the Republic. Those who would dare to raise fist or sword upon them were struck down by the fires of the arcane, and as easily as simply murmuring a few words.

For thirteen months to the day that the first known reports of the Torment emerged within the Republic, a mysterious entity arose, claiming the title of the Republic’s saviors. Inconceivably, this collective claimed to be true to life warlocks and witches; Magi, straight from the tales of Old.

Their greatest feat, however, had not been the miracles they performed upon the crippled, nor the ease in which they dispatched their foes. No, for their greatest power had been that of a blessing and a promise, a solemn oath to any that would seek to follow them in lieu of the Church that failed them:

Immunity from the ravishes of the Torment.

And like the rider upon the pale horse, they had indeed been capable of fulfilling such a promise; for their power was so great, even the deadliest plague known to man could not pose a threat to them. And so many elected to follow these mysterious saviors, seeking refuge among their ranks as an escape from the certain death of the Torment, swearing their fealty to these demi-gods of power never before witnessed upon the face of Eden.

Yet these supposed saviors were an evasive and suspicious lot. Their customs and methods were foreign to even the most backwater citizen of the Republic. Whilst proficient in the common tongues and languages of the lands, their native language was an amalgamation of sounds and phrases that had never before graced the modern world of Eden. And most disturbing was, when asked of their names and titles, these mysterious souls would offer no customary reply - for they did not consider themselves individuals. Instead, their answer was a simple yet cryptic phrase that would forever live in infamy…

“We are the Resolve.”

In order to truly understand the Resolve, one must understand the world of Eden before their arrival. Before the Torment and the arrival of the Resolve, the idea of “Magic” in its most traditional sense was largely regarded as folklore by the layman. Across the thousands of cities and villages that comprised the Republic, the concept of magic was something that very few people put any credence into. While referenced often in the canon lore and literature of the Decusian Church, the common man had no reason to believe such fantastical Old tales were true; there had been no evidence to suggest mystical and unseen powers lay waiting to be wielded by those willing to pursue them. As such, magic and the arcane had been looked upon simply as allegories to great strength and fortitude of the founding elements of the Church and society.

Across the thousands of cities and villages that comprised the Republic, the concept of magic was something that very few people put any credence into.

It was this lack of faith, so to say, that the Resolve had preyed upon, for their arrival in the Republic was met with wonder and awe. Each member of the collective, of whom only thirteen had been seen at any given time, had been a veritable master of the arcane, wielding powers only ever dreamed of. With this fame, the Resolve set out upon a show of power that solidified their reputation as miracle workers. They moved from city to city, territory to territory, performing nothing short of wonders. Where the Church had failed to devise any sort of protection from the Torment that had been raging across the Republic, the Resolve had been able to immunize those willing to follow them with but the utterance of a few words. Their acts of benevolence quickly spread through the Republic, and with each city they visited, more and more joined their ranks as willing followers. As the year 1313 drew to a close, thousands of citizens had abandoned their lives within the Republic to join with the mysterious collective, many out of simple fear of the Torment, and some out of the desire to learn a mere fraction of their knowledge of the arcane.

Of course, it did not take long for the Church to grow discontent of the actions of these mysterious magi. The act of miracles and, of course, the wielding of Magic had been the domain of the Church for millennia – to suggest otherwise was pure blasphemy. For the only known and acknowledged practitioners of magic, in the Church’s eyes, had been the founding Templar of the Decusian Church nearly thirteen hundred years past. With each sighting of the Resolve, envoys of the Church were sent to demand that the powerful magi to share their knowledge and power with the Church under pain of death. Yet each request was met with refusal, for the Resolve had no interest in acting benevolent to the Church. With their hand forced, the Church had made a bold but necessary decision. In the city of Allamarone, a bustling trade city seated in the heart of the Midlands, an entire chapter of Church Templar, coupled with a full Clergy of Inquisitors had been dispatched to stop and detain the blaspheming Magi and their heretical followers. A force of nearly four hundred men strong, the Templar and Inquisitors represented some of the most well-trained and well-outfitted soldiers the Republic could spare. Infused with zeal, the Church’s forces moved upon Allamarone like an army laying siege, surrounding the Resolve and their traveling caravan of followers with ease. Yet their lack of humility in the face of such raw and unimaginable power would be their undoing.

The act of miracles and, of course, the wielding of Magic had been the domain of the Church for millennia – to suggest otherwise was pure blasphemy.

In but one single hour, more than three hundred Templar and Inquisitors fell to the power of but a dozen and one Resolvists, all as the collected thousands within Allamarone watched in abject horror. The wonton unleashing of death and destruction upon the hundreds of assembled Templar and Inquisitor forces had been nigh unimaginable. Onlookers had gone on to describe the scene as something out of the Old texts – a truly overwhelming sight to behold and fathom. After a hasty retreat and medical triage, less than fifty men of the original four hundred would survive the ordeal.

It was with this unabashed display of raw power (of which would later become known as the Slaughter of Allamarone) that the attention of the entire Republic had been cast upon the Resolve. Capitalizing upon their infamy, they continued westward across the Republic, fleeing the more civilized and powerful territories of the kingdom all the while bringing thousands within their folds. And as 1313 faded into history, so did the Resolve. Their exodus across the Republic had brought them far west, into portions of the kingdom that were referred to as the “Blacklands”. It was here in the Blacklands that the Torment had struck most violently, mostly due to the lack of infrastructure and overwhelming Church presence. Civilization was actively collapsing in these Blacklands, as many cities and states had been overrun by the Torment months prior, and Legion and Church forces were scarce and scattered.

And as mysteriously as they arrived, they had vanished. The Resolve, with their following of faithful, disappeared into the Blacklands in those last days of 1313, never to be seen again; yet it would not be long before they were heard of again.