Your Tale Begins


The sun begins to set. As the light fades over the hamlet the shops prepare to close their doors, and the streets begin to fill as the days labour comes to a close. While the rest of the hamlet prepares for the calm of evening and a night of sleep, the Rusty Boot begins to come alive.

After a long days work shepherds, craftsmen, tailors, metalworkers and the like have piled into the taverns main space. Flagons of ale are passed around as a haze of tobacco smoke hovers near the ceiling. Music, laughter and light flood through the windows, a bright place in the peaceful darkness that has fallen over the rest of the hamlet.

In one corner, near the hearth, a graceful elven woman plays her lute, and sings a tale of the great heroes of the past. Her song of the ages falls on the ears of the crowd, filling their hearts with hope and wonder as she regales them with a mighty tale of a band of ragtag adventurers who started from nothing, but rose to be great heroes. Men and women who rose to be kings, conquerors, saviours, and legends made flesh.


Deep under the mountain the dwarves dig deep, seeking to find the last riches the mountain has left. For a thousand years the mountain fortress has stood as their home, neither the creatures of the deep nor the armies at their gates have brought their kingdom down.

As the workers dig for precious metals and gems in the mountain, guards stand watch against the aberrations of the Deep, swapping stories of their escapades. One claims to have held back an entire squad of drow, and another counters by saying that she singlehandedly broke through the siege of orcs that tried to breach the gates.

One guard sits silent, listening intently to their tales, hoping (and fearing) for the day when he might be able to prove his worth, and hopefully to gain a tale of his own worth telling.


A pair of hunters quietly stalk their quarry. They crest the hill, spotting beneath them the dire wolf that the day before had attacked their tribes encampment. The leader of the band signals to the others, and they split away from her to try and flank the beast. She nocks and arrow, and takes aim.

She releases, the arrow flies forth and drives itself deep in the creatures flank. It cries in alarm as the other two hunters leap from the bush, swords drawn. Within moments the conflict is over, and the beast is dead. The leader smiles; she is going to have a good story to tell the tribe when they return.


The world known as Messen, and it’s kingdoms, cities, hamlets and villages, is a world of adventure and danger. Of magic and monsters. Of possibility and opportunity. Here you will either become legends and heroes, or you will die in obscurity. It is a world filled with the songs and tales of the heroes of ages past, and it is time for your tale to begin.

Song of the Ages

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