Rebirth is not a recounting of good vs. evil. It is not a story of how the virtuous shall overcome the corrupt. It is the story of survival in a world dominated by predator civilizations fighting for existence in a realm created from the shambling remnants of mankind.
275 years after the end of the world, the land of Kreyo stands divided by seven war-torn nations. Each nation falls under the rule of one of seven great necromancers. The seven who brought a dying mankind to its end. The seven who poured demonic power and new life into its husk. Sar’gon the Diplomat, Nahrun the Student, Narcon the Inventor, Reuce the Surgeon, Kre’uul the Murderer, Daerrus the Master, and Fae’ell the God. Each nation is represented by their own culture and ideals, a reflection of the necromancer’s reason for betraying humanity.
The corpse of humanity rose as the demonic power coursed through its veins, reanimated and reborn in the image of the mankind they replaced.The reborn of Kreyo appear no different than man, except for the mark of their necromancer scarred into their right hand. Cursed with the free will of their predecessors, the reborn fight for survival, glory, fame, riches, power, or whatever they desire. Free from the bonds of sleep, the reborn are not controlled by the waning of the day, though they are not free of the burden of required nourishment.
Sar’gon the Diplomat, keeper of the tongue of Nich’Tel. His sacrifice was the mother. A land of law and regulation, a bureaucratic utopia. Sar’gon dreams of a world without the corruption of man, without humanity’s incessant need to harbor chaos and anarchy. This is what has become of the land in which he was divided. Using the power of the tongue of Nich’Tel, Sar’gon entices and twists the mind, persuading it to his will. Sar’gon crafted the tongue of Nich’Tel into a scroll, from which, whatever is read becomes carved into the minds of those who hear it. The golden plains of Sar’gon are a diplomatic masterpiece, governed by the necromancer, and protected by an army of enforcers and collectors, led by the first born of Sar’gon, the watchful mother. Her calming voice and silver tongue dissuades any conflict. Those which the enforcers cannot subdue are said to be quietly, yet abruptly quelled by the voice of the watchful mother. Troublesome citizens must answer to the blade of the collectors. Bureaucrats hold the highest positions, governing this nation of laws preached by the figure head and written by Sar’gon the Diplomat.
Nahrun the Student, keeper of the brain of Nich’Tel. His sacrifice was the bard. All history is held within the borders of Nahrun, safe from the destructive capabilities of mankind, ravaging libraries and burning books. The brain of Nich’Tel allows Nahrun, the older brother, to view each event that has come to pass with a simple utterance of an ancient chant. Use of this power has allowed Nahrun to create a haven for knowledge and to attain his dream of halting mankind’s destruction of its own memories. Vaults of ancient artifacts scour the frozen mountains and frigid tundra, occupied by the tireless artificers mastering the ancient craft and tapping into a forgotten strength. The grand hall, crafted within the heart of the frozen mountain Kirstul, is filled with knowledge from every era, books written across the continent of Kreyo, saved from total destruction and preserved within the great library of Nahrun. He fills his halls with historians who devote their lives to learning the history of what has come to pass, in an attempt to quench Nahrun the Student’s ever growing thirst for knowledge.
Narcon the Inventor, keeper of the hands of Nich’Tel. His sacrifice was the father. A land of invention and progression, Narcon, the younger brother, dreams of a world in which the inhibitions of experimentation and exploration into the unknown is unhindered by man’s greed and possessive nature to hoard technological evolution. A land of scholars and chemists. The chains binding human progressive potential were shattered with the destruction of the oppressive human civilization, revealing Narcon’s dreams of reaching into the once forbidden scientific void. Having severed his mortal hands and melding metal to flesh, Narcon has taken the hands of Nich’Tel as his own. The demonic hands pour life into gears and screws, granting sentience to mechanical creations. With this power, Narcon has created a nation of his own on land flooded from years of erosion and rain. Scheven is the largest of these cities, being the domain of Narcon, and is home to grand alchemical fields and technological colleges, housing the dreaming engineers of Narcon the Inventor.
Reuce the Surgeon, keeper of the blood of Nich’Tel. His sacrifice was the mentor. Reuce seeks to create the perfect being through the manipulation of flesh, bone, and blood. The blood of Nich’Tel courses through his veins, pushing his body to its limit. The surgeons and abominations inhabiting Reuce believe that true ascension from the fragility of mankind is to rebuild man from the ashes of evolutionary mistakes. Using the power of the blood, Reuce creates monstrosities and masterpieces from willing subjects. Both subject and surgeon carry a vial of the blood of Reuce around their neck, so that they may perform operational adjustments when necessary. The hidden swamp of Reuce is home to these experiments, attempting to create perfection in the eye of the necromancer. Giant beings known as titans walk the land in plain sight, while in the shadows lurk the translucent ghosts, blending with the darkness to hunt their prey. Symbiotic connections tie the creator to the creation.
Kre’uul the Murderer, keeper of the heart of Nich’Tel. His sacrifice was the brother. Blood runs through the very walls of the massive coliseums built by the reborn of Kre’uul. In these grand constructs of stone, Kre’uul quenches his thirst for blood in what he claims to be the only true form of competition. Sword and shield clash as warriors face down their former allies in the arena. Kre’uul demands a world where power and prestige is earned through feats of strength and grand displays of murderous prowess. No matter the manner, the being left standing in the blood of his enemies is granted titles and glory. Kre’uul harnessed the power of the heart of Nich’Tel, plunging a blade into his own chest and replacing his once human heart with the demon’s. With the beating chest of a demon, countless fall to the blades of Kre’uul, who has no equal on the battlefield. His strength and dexterity are unmatched by any who walk Kreyo. The grand coliseums serve as the center to the corrupt, polluted cities buried in the sand. Blood and poison flows through the hearts of its citizens. Drug lords and assassins dominate the streets, running rampant, and overpowering the weak.
Daerrus the Master, keeper of the eye of Nich’Tel. His sacrifice was the slaver. Whips cracks over the remnants of the human population. Blood pours from behind the fields of slaves as screams echo from the ravaged bodies. Daerrus holds the blade to the throat of mankind, enslaving and torturing a broken race in order to fulfill his twisted commands. Daerrus pays visit to the refugees of Sitral, raiding and pillaging, returning with boats full of slaughtered men and broken prisoners. With the eye of Nich’Tel, he peers into the soul, revealing the true terror of the monster inside. Haunted by the darkest nightmares, the prisoners break under the will of Daerrus. Slavers command slaves over the withering wasteland of Daerrus, providing the labor required to maintain the vast fields of crops clinging to survival in the dying land. With a seemingly endless supply of slaves and soldiers, the overwhelming population of Daerrus lays siege to the neighbors in the north as the war for demonic power rages. Scattered through-out the wilted wasteland lives the task masters and the small cities that have formed around their dwellings.
Fae’ell the God, keeper of the face of Nich’Tel. His sacrifice was the priest. All who are reborn within the borders of Fae’ell bow down before the face of their god. Fae’ell has given life and demands life in return from his fanatical empire. His unending thirst for blood and power is fulfilled through pain and sacrifice. Fae’ell demands ascension from the petty life of mortality, grasping at the heavens themselves. Those who gaze upon his face cower as though they were looking into the eyes of god. Ripped from the very skull of Nich’Tel, Fae’ell bears the face of the demon, forsaking the man he once was by wearing it as his own. Wielding the power of the demon’s face, he appears as a demon himself, the harbinger of war and agony, spewing forth hellfire. Colossal black wings hang above the scorched earth on which he walks. All cower before him as the true face of death, begging to appease his demonic hunger. The followers of Fae’ell believe that he is the truth, the supreme law, and they must repay him with their lives if it is for his whim. Sacrificial daggers, stained with the blood of priests and those unfortunate enough to cross their path, scatter the halls of the grand cathedrals and altars, drenched in sacrificial blood.
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