A Far Cry From The Peace We Were Told

Ages ago they came.

The monsters led by the Entity 303.

They took everything we had. Burnt it, pillaged it, and slaughtered it. Our once great village was rubble. Dust. Debris.

He came. He saved us.

I remember looking at his majestic figure standing at the entrance if the village. He offered us food and water. Supplies to rebuild. He created golems to protect us.

His name was Forsith. He served a higher court he said.

I shall never forget the peace which he spoke of

A Far Cry From The Peace We Were Told.
That was cycles ago. Since, we have rebuilt the village to mighty proportions. The walls which stand around have protected us from the constant nightly assaults of vicious creatures. I am Geffihar, King of Rodenheim, the greatest standing village in our realm. When Forsith came, he rebuilt the city, ruled then by my father Tulihar, better than it was before. Players, monsters, supernatural beings bent on world dominance and/or destruction. None came to attack. The Walls of Rodenheim were a place of peace. Where all came when they were worried. Where all went when they needed help.

Our village grew upwards, high enough to scrape the sky. More citizens moved to join us. Less remained outside the Walls. To them, this was home. It was my sworn job to protect them.

Then it began.

It was midday. A man appeared outside our walls, no armor or weapons in sight. He asked to be let in, and our guards did. He strode with an air of confidence around him into my office.

"My liege," he began, "I am the Herald. I come bringing bad tidings. The world you love has been attacked by the contingency of MCCs as we call them in the business. A division of elite guardians will be dispatched to assist you in defense."

I was shocked.

Stunned.

Was it 303?

Was he coming back?

It couldn't be.

Impossible.

But was it?