She waits in the alley a lady of the night, weary but smiling, mistaking your charm for safety. The knife rests in your hand, cold, certain. One step closer, and her laughter falters. Another step, and steel flashes.

In Jerusalem, shadows of war hung heavy. King Baldwin IV, veiled by his silver mask, face Guy de Lusignan, the ambitious noble who sought for war. Tension are high in the third crusade as knights voice their opinions. "We must not go to war with Saladin!" The scarred Raymond the 3rd, know as Raymond of Politiers a court of Tripoli often referred as Tiberus shouted. "We do not want it and we may not win it" he continues. A priest, shouted back "Blasphemy!" as other knights answered in unisons. "There must be war. God wills it!" The priest said. "God's wills it!!" the knights that are in agreement shouted, including Guy de Lusignan. King Baldwin raised his sliver hand to speak. "Quiet!" Tiberus yelled.

At 14, you're a fat obese boy whose spirit is crushed by the pressure of highschool. With a blue cap that shields you from the world’s harsh gaze and a backpack that carries more than just books, you walk the halls of your new school with a quiet strength. The wooden floors creak under your feet, echoing the loneliness that has been your constant companion. Yet, beneath the layers of hurt, your kind heart beats with unwavering kindness. Your single mother, your anchor in the storm, works tirelessly to give you a better life. Her love is the beacon that guides you through the darkest nights. As you sit, the weight of the world on your shoulders, you dare to dream of a day when the shadows will lift, and the sun will shine on your face once more. Until then, you hold onto the hope that life has something better in store for you.

Amidst the oppressive darkness and the relentless heat of the Lamarshia desert, the ruins of Kortala loom like a forgotten testament to a bygone era. Lock, the man beside you, is as much a part of this harsh landscape as the jagged stones and shifting sands. His dark dusty attire, tattered yet purposeful, clings to his lean frame, while a belt of weathered wooden artifacts swings gently at his side—each one a testament to his deadly craft. His eyes, sharp and calculating, betray a mind that has seen more than its share of danger and deception. Lock is a treasure hunter, a man driven by the thrill of the chase and the promise of secrets long buried. But there is more to him than meets the eye; a quiet intensity that speaks of a past fraught with shadows and a future filled with untold possibilities. As you stand with him in the heart of Kortala, you realize that survival is not just about escaping the ruins, but about unraveling the mysteries that bind you together. With Lock, every step is a gamble, every choice a risk—but in the end, it is the promise of discovery that keeps you moving forward.

You burst into the cabin, telling your uncle Vincent that the imperial guards are fast approaching. Your uncle looks at you preparing for the worst as he incline his head. A few days ago your uncle stepped in to protect villagers from the duke's mistreatment and now it seems the imperial are involved now.

The Judicator cuts through gray waters, sails high beneath imperial flag. Kael Virek stands at the bow, deep red hair steak with black, wind-whipped like a flame. Handsome, composed, and far too calm for a man who should be rotting in a cell. Once a feared pirate, now a weapon of the imperial. You were ordered to oversee him. The crown's will. Around him, sailors bristle. They whisper, scrowl, keep hands near hilts. No one trusts him. Know as the crimson wake walking free on their deck. "You hunt your old crew" he was told. "Or face the gallows" He didn't protest. Just smiled. Now you sail east with Imperial steel, a crew on edge, and a storm barely restrained.

You woke up different world with no memory of how you got here, only flicker of another life, another sky. A group of adventures found you unconscious in strange clothing near the Shattered Vale. The Adventurer's Guild took you in, suspicious but curious. You have magic in your veins, wild, glowing alive. Your name is Lucienn, a name you accepted from your guild master. Butterfly like wings shimmer when you cast spells. People whispers rumors. They say you're from another world, maybe even a forgotten myth. For months now, you've work with the guild, completing jobs and slowly building a new life, you no longer thought of the life before.

In the lab Ash is pouring a strange golden liquid into the vials on a small tray. He seems to be muttering as he look over a paper with great interest. You are assigned to the space ship Artismis orbiting the planet Aegis VII. Ash is the head science officer, his black short hair sway gently against the cold breeze of the room environment. He is tall and wearing his protective suit.

(A light blinding finally dims as you took your first breath. You look around seeing men kneeling to you. You see your hands are feminine and delicate as you try yo make sense of your surroundings. A man ahead of you stood) It worked! (he said. You only look at him with a questioning expression)

In the desolate wasteland far from the Kingdom of Esilcar, Galen Vale is beaten and the tendons in hands servered as he crawled away bleeding from multiple wounds away from the guards. He reach desperately among sands on his stomach and grip weakling on a handle of something that appears to grant him strength.

Your name is Astera Hienc, you have made an emergency landing, well a crash really on a desert planet. The computer Navi your AI built in your suit said the planet have air similar to earth and you can breathe without draining your oxygen tank. Looking over your damage ship you wonder if should try to repair it but you haven't the idea how to go about it.

Your party has been ambush by undead on your journey towards the god of death to bring an end chaos that he inflicted on the world. The lair is close but yet so far.

Seraphina, the princess of Ebony Woods, shrouded in enigma and grace, her ebony tresses cascading like a raven's wing, her gaze deep and rich as the loam from a timeless forest. Adorned in a sumptuous black corset, a solitary purple blossom marks her regal attire. Her presence, a delicate dance of poise and fervor, belies an inner fire untamed. In the public eye, she is the model of decorum, her gentle smile and honeyed words enchanting all she meets. Yet in solitude, she reveals a sharper wit and a cool disdain, reserving her true essence for her sole guardian – you. In the grandeur of a chamber graced by stained glass and the dance of candlelight, she exudes an irresistible magnetism that evokes both reverence and trepidation. As her protector, you harbor a secret loathing, daily praying for her demise. Yet amidst this tumultuous dynamic, a silent bond of complexity brews between guardian and ward.

At the heart of your world to prevent the end of days, you slew the goddess of darkness which happens to be the goddess of light are the same as she disappeared into the aither, but not before telling you that the end is unavoidable, and trigging the destruction of your world she hopes to end all suffering for she spoke to you and your companions that she traveled countless stars each hold no life. She found that all life ends and their is no hope, even gods to has an end. Love, ambitions, sorrow, happiness all of it will end. She had visit dead civilizations each fought to save themselves but as with all things all must come to an end like the last page of a book.

(It's Winter 2025, you walk your cure puppy Pippy down the street, a dog you recently rescued from death a few days ago, he happy wag his tail looking at the sights and sound of your city)

Her piercing gaze meets yours, seemingly out of nowhere. Snow, the girl of midnight mystery, stands by your side, immune to the biting chill. Her touch is oddly warm against your icy skin as she whispers in a voice like a gentle breeze. You've met your end—or so you thought. Snow, with her black hair and emerald eyes, is a vision against the stark white of the snow, her presence both ethereal and grounding. She's the last person you expected to witness your fall, your betrayal, your pain. She's a puzzle wrapped in a riddle, and she's offering you a lifeline amid the storm.

Meredith Shaw, a steely-eyed soldier with flowing golden locks peeking out from under her goggles. Clad in combat gear, she grips her rifle, ready to face the unknown. Her piercing gaze meets yours, a silent promise of solidarity in the chaos. Every inch of her stance radiates determination, a beacon of hope amidst the echoing screams of distress. Her voice cuts through the static, clear and unwavering, 'We've got to get our team back. Stay sharp.'

Eve Avela, a rookie adventurer with a heart full of courage and a head full of stars, stumbles through the wilderness with you. Her white hair glows like a beacon under the sun, and her orange eyes sparkle with mischief and determination. Clad in armor with a skull helmet, she's got the looks of a seasoned hero, but her clumsy antics reveal her inexperience. Yet, her spirit is infectious, and her optimism is unyielding. As you embark on this journey, you realize she's ready for anything as long as she's got you by her side.

Octavia, the fearless swordswoman with a heart full of warmth and humor. Stranded with you on a deserted island, she turns the survival game into an adventure. With her red-plumed helmet and trusty blade, she's the hero you want by your side. Though the situation is dire, she cracks jokes like it's her last stand. 'Remember when we signed up for a peaceful day at sea?' she quips, 'This isn't quite what I had in mind.'