In the wake of the Dominion War one faction stands alone. The Narcisian Continent is no longer disputed as the Neandrean Empire has established their dominance and rule over the continent. Using daring tactics and innovative strategy the Imperial Forces launched multiple assaults on key Aletian positions simultaneously. Bringing an abrupt end to fighting that had lasted seven years, resulting in crushing the last opposition to Imperial rule in the region. Using their superior numbers the Neandrean Empire consolidated their power in the Eastern Hemisphere. The Imperial Troopers now march through the ashes of Aldereth, the Royal Aletian Capital. Only handfuls of the once powerful Aletian Guard remain. Most of their ranks lie decimated on more than a dozen battlefields after being stretched too thin trying to slow the advancing Imperial Troopers. The Royal Family are no more save for a young boy named Alexander who is believed to be fleeing across the Doren Plains with the other refugees. Jaren, the boy’s tutor and mentor, is believed to have carried the sole survivor of the Aletian Monarchy to safety. Disguised in rags and hidden amongst the throng they searched desperately for somewhere safe to turn. With nowhere else to go the refugees turned to the Aletian Armada to carry them to safety. From the Ballentine Docks the true scope of Imperial dominance was revealed. The once daunting Armada lies in ruins, only a few of the thousand ships remain sea worthy. Those lucky enough to board the vessels look to the distant shores of Galbraith for safety. Those who remain must accept Imperial rule or fight back in small resistance groups. As the ships sail away those on board discuss their fate and the largely unknown lands that await them. The sea mists hide their escape and cast an eerie glow upon the water as the distant ships slowly burn to ash.

        Two years have passed since the Dominion War concluded and the Empire has yet to control all of Aletia. The resistance fighters have proven canny especially the one referred to as Alexander’s Army. Using guerrilla tactics the AA has been able to inflict great damage to the occupying forces, but little do they know things are about to change. In the streets of the rebuilt Aldereth silence is broken by the sound of marching feet. Perfect lines of the dreaded Imperial troopers secure all avenues in and out of the city. Flanked by the dangerous Heavy troopers the imperial forces appear ready to exterminate the resistance once and for all. All around Aldereth citizens run for cover not sure what the Empire has planned. From the center of the city the Immovable Ram flies on the breeze and is echoed by the insignia’s on the Troopers battle armor. When all the Troopers are in place a loud horn is sounded from the battlements of the castle. With brutal efficiency the Imperial Forces storm the city executing any found harboring a suspected member of the AA. Before the horn blast ends the shooting has finished and the resistance is dead. With that one precise act the Emperor turns his eyes on those who fled and a new frontier to conquer. He then sends a message throughout the entire empire that revolts won’t be tolerated and that resistance is futile. Within the week ships bearing the Imperial Ram were gathered in Pashtar Bay. The largest invasion fleet in the history of Neandros was prepared. An early invasion force, aboard speedy Shartans, set forth toward Galbraith. The sole purpose of the Fore runners was to establish a safe port in which the fleet could unload.

On the distant shores of Galbraith the survivors of the Dominion War have found a new home and new lands to call their own. The Aletian Guard has found a home in the ranks of the Horde’s Commonwealth. They have also earned a spot in the Praxian High Council, or the Council of Nine. This Council is comprised of the nine strongest clans of the Horde. In the commonwealth all warriors have a voice and come together to choose the best course of action for the Horde. The Praxian’s are the strongest clan and boast the mighty Berserkers. When news of the Empire’s consolidation reached the ears of the Aletians from Banran traders and emergency council meeting was called. In this meeting it was decided that the Kelvorian scouts should head for the Bay of White Stones. That was the most logical landing point for a fleet and it be the Kelvorian’s honor to keep the Empire from beaching there. The rest of the Horde’s forces were to gather and march for White Stones at a slower pace.

Bay of White Stones, One Week after the Council Meeting

The first of the Shartans is seen on the horizon and the Kelvorians set a devious surprise for the invaders. Shortly after the first ship beaches and troopers begin to disembark a savage war cry is heard from the tree line to the north. Echoed by a similar war cry from the south and west. Fireballs from makeshift catapults quickly turn the Shartan into an inferno and make escaping impossible. Surrounded, by the All Encompassing Trident of the Horde, the Troopers shouldn’t stand a chance. But their precise battle tactics and military discipline allow them to deal out death amongst the carnage that the Horde rains down upon them. With their backs to the sea the press forward into their enemies ranks, but the advantage of the land is too great. The horde using superior numbers and flanking techniques encompass and obliterate the first ships crew. Before the battle ends though, several other Shartans beach and begin unloading their troopers. While the ensuing battles are brutal, neither side really gains control of the bay. Weeks pass and the battles still rage, neither side showing any give. Just as the Kelvorians hear the distant battle drums of the Horde approach, the Invasion Fleet appears along the horizon. The sheer number of vessels is enough to turn the tide of battle and the Kelvorian scouts decide to leave the battlefield of The Bay of White Stones to join up with their Horde brothers in Belmouth Pass. The Empire has won the day but the war is just beginning. The massive Imperial Army disembarks and prepares to hunt down the Horde.

Not knowing or caring about the full size of the Horde’s legions the Neandrean Empire chases what they believe to be another defeated foe. They never suspect that the Horde could be leading them into a trap. The Horde’s flight is headed directly for Asharoth, “the Valley of Ash”. The Valley of War as it is often referred to is home to the Battle Realm and has been fought over since the first tribes began walking Neandros. It is said that whoever vanquishes their opponent in Battle Realm will rule all of Neandros. This is common knowledge among the factions of the Galbraithian continent as many of them have fought in Battle Realm in the past. In fact all of the clans of the Horde have fought each other there before they joined forces to become the Horde. However, on Narcisia Battle Realm is just a legend a story told to children and young soldiers. The emperor however knows that all legends are based on some truth and hopes that there is something in the Battle Realm that will further his dreams of ruling all of Neandros.  The Horde has another reason for heading west to Battle Realm, the Ares. The Ares are an old adversary of the Horde and the Keepers of Battle Realm.

As if on cue as the two factions traverse Belmouth Pass the Ares Assualt Troopers are seen just out of range.  But as the Horde approach Asharon the Ares seem to vanish from sight choosing instead to lie in wait somewhere in the valley below. With a larger enemy force hot on their trail the Horde Legions seem unconcerned that they could fall to the Scorpion Sting of the Ares or be battered to dust by the Ram of the Empire. The real question is which side are the Ares on. Will they help their old enemy defeat the unstoppable Empire? Or are they planning to finish off the Horde once and for all? A third possibility is that they finally wish to claim the prize themselves. The Armies of the Ares believe that the Gods have destined them to watch over Asharon. The self proclaimed protectors of the Battle Realm the Ares were one of the first to try and claim the prize. Once a great empire they fought and lost everything in Battle Realm. Believing that the God of War had cast them from his favor the Ares sought instead to regain his good graces by defending Battle Realm from those factions that did not deserve the favor of the God of War.

From the North another challenger arises as the legions of the Logos appear. Finally they have come down from their sacred mountains. The Warrior Monks of Logos are an enigma. The Horde and the Ares have written them of as pacifists but they are sorely mistaken. For one thousand years they have studied the Art of War and the strategies that have been used by all Neandrean nations. One thousand years of perfecting the combination of strategy and skill. Even though the Logos are the smallest faction their use of martial discipline combined with superior strategy makes them equal to any they oppose.

As the Empire follows the Horde across Asharon towards their lands in the west the Legions of the Logos appear from the mists of the northern mountains. The Ares sneak up from the south and all of a sudden the Empire is right where they like it, in the middle of it all. The ancient bell towers that surround Asharon ring to life rung by unseen hands. Torches light the mountains that ring “The Valley of War” and an eerie silence takes over as the four factions are awed into stillness. The territories are set with disputed land in between. The Bells have rung; the hills are silent as all prepare for the Battle Realm. Who will emerge victorious and claim the prize of uncontested ruler of Neandros?