A legend told that far, far away, on the edge of the magical realms, there was a city, a great black city built on a mountain famous for its curse.
Only the black mages and all those who were deeply linked to the darkness were allowed to enter this place of the night, feared by all. It was there, far from the light, that a young boy named Miron was imprisoned. He lived within the walls of a huge building, among other children, under the domination of a banished black mage, who tried to subdue him because of his rebellious and untamable nature. Miron did not know how to break free from this terrible prison. But opportunity knocked in the year he turned thirteen when he discovered a power his dark tormentors wished he had never known.

The Prince Of Mages

The child's almost sovereign composure began to dangerously upset the boss. His muscles tightened under the tailored striped suit that dressed his imposing body. His curly black hair covered a square face, stretched by a deepening annoyance. 


“Clearly a child. I can see how quickly you catch on. Everything exists here. I even know where you can get it. That healing spell you so desire.” 


Miron gasped, taking a mechanical step towards the boss as if getting close to him would bring him as close to the cure he so coveted. 


“Really," he mischievously asserted. “My acolyte here...” and he pointed at one of the players, dressed in an original green-and-white suit, with pink hair, and a skinny face very tanned and very cunning, perpetually displaying an indecipherable but dangerous smile...“knows all the suppliers of healing magic to Nebeus. One word from me and anyone would get anything they wanted to him.” 


Mercenaries