The fall of Kosura, the rise of the cursed ones
Each month, merchant ships sailed across the seas toward the island of Kosura, carrying food, merchandise, and countless other goods. But on this particular day, something felt different.
As the ships approached the island, the merchants noticed that the wind had changed. A strange darkness seemed to hang over Kosura, and a thin haze of dust and shadow covered the land. Even from the sea, the island appeared to have lost some of its familiar warmth.
As the first ships approached the docks, the merchants expected to see the island's mages waiting for them. Normally, one of the elders would be there to welcome the traders and oversee the unloading of their cargo.
But there was no one waiting for them.
Instead, the harbor was occupied by unfamiliar figures dressed in black armor. Strange, dark-red markings ran along their armor, resembling the designs worn by warriors from the southern lands.
The merchants did not recognize them.
"Hey! Help us unload these ships!" one of the traders shouted. "And someone go find one of the mages!"
Without giving the strange soldiers much thought, the merchants turned toward their cargo and began searching for the correct crates.
They never saw the attack coming.
Steel and axes tore through them before they could even react. Their final glimpse of the world was of a dark, brown-tan face hidden behind a sinister mask.
Kosura had already fallen.
The horror had begun long before the merchants arrived.
In his pursuit of greater power, a magician had begun experimenting with forbidden spells on the earth dwellers and ground men of the island. His experiments twisted their bodies and minds, transforming them into creatures without reason or mercy.
They had only one purpose:
Destroy. Conquer. Kill. Dominate.
But the magician wanted something even greater.
He attempted to create a monster more powerful than anything he had ever made before. Instead, the spell went horribly wrong.
The magic spread across the island.
One by one, the inhabitants of Kosura were cursed, including the ancient wizards who had once protected the island. Their minds were consumed, their powers corrupted, and their wills bent toward destruction.
From the catastrophe emerged Garbol, a wizard who, despite his corruption, remained connected to the immense powers he once possessed.
Under Garbol's influence, Kosura became a wasteland.
Those who remained unaffected were few. They hid in abandoned settlements, caves, and ruins, desperately trying to survive while Garbol's possessed armies hunted them across the island.
But the curse was only the beginning.
Deep beneath Kosura, the Blood Dragons had been performing rituals of their own.
Through their dark ceremonies, they had weakened the veil separating the mortal realm from Hell. Ancient magic tore at the barrier between worlds, creating cracks through which the power of the Beyond began to seep.
And now, they saw an opportunity.
The captured mages of Kosura would become sacrifices in one final ritual.
The Blood Dragons gathered the surviving mages, binding them within a vast ritual chamber. Their powers, once used to protect Kosura, would now be consumed to tear the veil open once more.
The ritual began.
Dark flames rose.
The air itself screamed.
The boundary between worlds split apart.
And through the opening came an army.
Not an army born from Kosura, but one from beyond it, warriors marching straight out of the shadow real and into the ruined island.
The Blood Dragons did not resist them.
They welcomed them.
To the invading army, they offered the fallen island as a gift:
Kosura would become their new domain.
The possessed armies of Garbol had already conquered the island's people.
The Blood Dragons had broken its barriers.
And now something far worse had arrived from beyond the veil.
Kosura was no longer merely a cursed wasteland.
It had become a gateway to the shadow realm. More soldiers and armies are waiting to cross over to Kosura.