The minstrel from Mastrola

Prologue

In the year of our Lord 1421 the demons of Hell clawed their way to the surface, appalling all with their bloody boned claws and razor teeth. Across the land the demons raged and was met with heavy resistance, though one by one cities, and villages alike, fell to the bloody and unyielding horde. The capital of the Land, Therotrough, held back the demons for 5 months until the demons tore through the stone walls and steel shields. The king of the Kingdom, Balamuse the second, was beheaded and torn limb from limb while the citizens looked on in horror and disgust. The king dead, cities in ruin and lives shredded just like their flesh. There was no hope. There was no trust. There was no Law. No one dared play the Hero and get caught up in a losing battle. Most people left the country and sailed or ran as far as they could. The others ,too poor or unhealthy to travel, hid in the darkest and dank recesses of the sewers, fearing and hoping they would not be found.