Welcome to the Post-Wyld Storm World

Two generations ago, your grandparents survived the Wyld Storm, an ongoing magical phenomenon that destroyed civilization, and altered the planet. The initial storm wave killed millions. Continents shifted, legendary monsters challenged humans’ top spot on the food chain, and people's genetics were irrevocably changed. The storm lessened in severity but still threatens the world every day.

Fortunately for the survivors, now called the Temptest Generation, dragons turned out to be real too. These giant lizards swept in like scaled angels of mercy, gathering humans together into shelters, and guiding them to build magic-resistant walled city-states. In return, they claimed each city-state and the surrounding area as their territory. Each Dragon runs things differently, but one thing is constant: You live within their walls, you live by their rules. Some folks signed on as Dragoons, an elite branch of secret police who answer only to the local Dragon. They protect the city from monstrous threats and keep the peace inside with an iron fist.

Then humans did what we do best; they messed things up. Our population took a huge hit from the Wyld Storm, so Gen-T got to work bringing those numbers back up. Over the next few decades, our parents were born and filled cities to their original capacity. To pull this off, the Renovation Generation initiated significant improvements to infrastructure, trade, technology, and magical study. When international travel was restored, the companies fought to keep control of their monopolies. After the Corp Wars settled down, nine victors emerged as multinational corporations, with none of the oversight and regulations the Old World enjoyed. To this day, corporate board rooms are so cutthroat their membership changes frequently. So frequently, they stopped having public faces and started making announcements from images of their corporate logos.

This brings us to you, kids. The current, unnamed generation came into this world of overpopulated city-states with all the odds against them. If you weren’t lucky enough to be born to the right people, you’re in the slums looking up at those that were. They expect us to produce, consume, and reproduce; that’s not living, that’s livestock. The Wyld Storm keeps you inside the walls. The Corporations keep you down in the mud. The Dragons let us kill each other over scraps.

You and your team gathered together to buck the system and protect a slice of the city you call home. You work freelance jobs to keep eating, but you’re your own boss. You defend your territory from gangs because your neighborhood depends on you. You’re Lancers, sticking it to the Drakes one job at a time.