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Centuries have passed since Phaestos slew the dragon Bellephos and revealed his divine mantle. He carved a Kingdom for himself and an Empire for his children before he ascended the mountain and took his place with the gods.

As the Empire expanded some kingdoms were conquered and others surrendered, for no-one could deny the right of his children to rule. The children of Phaestos hunted and slew the spawn of demon’s who might have opposed them, pawns of the old gods bent on their return to power. It was nigh a century ago the last was slain, and since then the Empire has known peace. The line of Phaestos alone held the mantle of flame, and it’s power ruled the battlefield. Kings would rather ally with these godlings than be burned by them on the field.

Though the numbers of blood children of Phaestos are greater now, over the years the power of the blood has thinned. Most of those of divine heritage bare the power of flame, though it is weaker now and required training. Those who seek wealth look towards the Senate or to the guilds for their gain, and only those who study the secrets of the flame in the Temple of Phaestos master the powers of flame.

Theirs is a separate power to the Senate, a power of ritual, of tradition, and flame. Those who seek strength of arms serve the Legions, the might of the Empire. Every Legion is raised by one of the old Kingdoms that control the Senate. Every Legion serves the Empire in a Place other than their home. Every legion has a command of Templars at it’s head, whispering in it’s ears, to watch over and guide the souls of the soldiers, and to ensure their loyalty to the Empire above all. Through this balance has been maintained for centuries.

The Emperor grows old, thought still hale, he is without issue, every heir born dying in childhood, through mishap or misadventure. His closest cousins are dying one by one. Someone is trying to eliminate heirs of the true line of Phaestos, whether to take the throne or to ruin the empire, who knows.

An heir of the line is hidden in the city of Tomis, and disappearances, murders and dark whispers slowly overtake the populace. A dark history is unfolding in the shadowed places of Tomis, and only a few brave souls stand firm to hold, or to open the gates of hell itself.

For the real backstory read Metaplot

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Burning Blood DurandDurand