-------------------------------------
For more than a millennia, the world had been divided in two, ruled by two separate bloodlines—J’engar and Talon. Once, it was said, the two bloodlines were one, and the world unified under one banner, but Talons especially hate to hear such talk. For in Talon, it is said that they are the one true bloodline, and for many centuries, it appeared to be so. Talon existed as a shining, beautiful country, full of glittering waterfalls and green pastures—its people were rich and happy, rebellions instantly crushed by the royal family’s personal army, the Gaenu.
And J’engar?
J’engar was a wasteland, a landscape of unforgiving rock and sand, a desert world—supposedly uninhabitable. It was for this reason that the bastard prince of Talon—bearing his mother’s name, J’engar—was banished with the rest of Talon’s prisoners to the desert, in the hopes that they would not survive. They survived, and well; they gradually took control of their hellish world until their border pushed up against the first green hills. And for a millennia, they advanced no further, and Talon fell no farther back. For a millennia the people of Talon—for the most part—ignored the people of J’engar, and the people of J’engar told stories of how they would be one day be avenged.
