You were once great heroes. You were the champions of the world, loved and adored by all. Living legends.
The world was on the cusp of an unprecedented era of peace and prosperity. After decades of war, you had finally driven all evil from the land. All that remained was your arch-nemesis Rellos Zek and his Black Armies, holed away in Shokahn, City of the Dead.
All heroes have villans, and yours was Rellos. You remember facing him in battle – the last battle, the one that would rid evil from the world and end war forever. You recall this clearly, because it is the last thing you remember. Rellos’ armies lay in ruin, you had him cornered, and his fate was sealed. You surrounded him. He showed no fear, only loathing.
That’s it. That’s the last thing you can remember.
You’ve just woken up, disoriented and breathing in sharply as if you were holding your breath. For a full minute you can still grasp at the lingering shadows of dreams, dreams full of fire and death and silence. The dreams fade and you are jerked back to the present as you realize that your body is now weak and powerless. Your enchanted arms and armor are gone, and more disturbingly, so is all of your skill and knowledge of battle.
You have a feeling that your former glory is now nothing but myth, and you can only hope that somewhere inside of you still resides the soul of a hero.