CT!: The Costs of War
elcome to the Iron Kingdoms, where heroics and treachery do battle on fields strewn with bodies and scrap, where vengeance burns slow and the restless dead shriek down through generations, aching for retribution upon their killers.
Ord may not be the shining beacon of technology that embodies those who walk under the Cygnus; it may not shake the earth with its menacing, south-faced marching as Khador does, but it does not lie in ruins like Llael, cut into pieces by invasions from not one but two nations. Its people are hardy and diverse; they are no strangers to the plotting that occurs behind the battlefields, or the bleeding and dying that happens upon them.
These are harsh times to be living in; even in the relative safety of Merin, capital city of Ord. Neutrality on the front lines manifests as intrigue on the city streets; Cygnarans brush shoulders with Khadorans, sometimes concealed knives flash between bodies in these brief meetings, the result is the blood that spatters the cobblestones underfoot. Llaelese refugees flood the markets and parks, trying not to starve in poverty after growing fat in lives of indolent luxury, and there is no shortage of plotting there, as well.
Through the midst of this powder-keg stalks the Immoren Liberation Front, intent on their own dark purpose; and where they choose to move next only one thing is sure:
Blood follows these four. Blood and death.