The world was dark. This world was cold. It cared not for the poor.

It cared not for the weak. And so, I

took it upon myself to build such a world. One that was filled with light. A world that was alive. That did
something with the poor and the tired. I, along with my comrades, destroyed the old kingdoms. We
banded together, we five. Marched on the great gates. Sword, Sheild, Axe, Dagger, and Spells... Every
step bloody, every loss they took was worse than the last... Days... It took days to take the keep. We did
it, though. I broke that door down, and watched as my soldiers tore the tyrants apart. The Queen was
screaming... And, as I held her crown in my hands... I saw what I had become. I was the darkness. I
was the fridged cold. I cared not for the cold, dying woman on the floor. She was weak. I was strong...
At last they saw. Saw what we had become.

And the cycle repeats itself, with each tyrant that falls the very hero that struck him down rose to
become the new tyrant, each colder and darker than the last. So it went on, tyrant after tyrant, hero
after hero. Finally all that remained of us were ruined castles and fields soaked with the blood of
soldiers. The world is dark, the world is cold. So it will be until the day we ultimately destroy ourselves.

Il mondo è freddo, il mondo è oscuro. Non si curava dei poveri, non si curava dei deboli. Così presi io
stesso l’impegno di costruire un mondo simile. Un mondo che fosse pieno di luce, un mondo vivo; che
facesse qualcosa per i deboli e per gli stanchi.