Prologue

  In the year 2137, Earth faced its final crisis. After centuries of conflict, death, and devastation, the cataclysmic event known as the Fall rendered our planet uninhabitable. Humanity, desperate for survival, initiated Project ARK—a daring endeavor involving six colossal ships. These vessels carried a mere twenty-five percent of the human population, bound for a distant planet: Terra Nova. Terra Nova, ten times the size of Earth, held the promise of sustaining life. The six great ships—The Grand Star, The King’s Promise, The Star Strider, The New Hope, Dawn Breaker, and The Bastion—embarked on an interstellar journey. Only five of them successfully reached their new home, while the wreckage of The Dawn Breaker remained visible in Terra Nova’s night sky.

 The Grand Star Nestled among the towering mountains in the east of Terra Nova’s great eastern continent. The King's Promise landed in the plains west of them. The New Hope and Star Strider colonized the western continent, separated by an ocean vaster than the Atlantic.

 Bastion proudly settled in the south of the eastern continent, bordered by steep coastal cliffs to the west, an expansive ocean to the south, and a dense forest to the east. To the north lay a desolate expanse—the Dead Man’s Desert. As years passed, cultivation and civilization flourished. Yet, unforeseen remnants of the past trailed humanity to Terra Nova, leading to a fate more dire than the Fall itself.

  In the year 2189, Terra Nova’s once-expanding cities stood as vast metropolises, their skylines etching against the horizon. But prosperity gave way to catastrophe. In 2190, colossal superstorms ravaged the countryside, earthquakes shattered urban centers, and lightning rented the skies. Even the very air turned toxic, as if Terra Nova itself harbored a vendetta against humankind. Desperation drove humanity to invoke Project Eden—a radical experiment in forced evolution. Animal DNA was injected into humans, compelling them to adapt or perish. The result? Over seventy percent of the remaining population transformed into sub-humans, a race deemed inferior to their pure-blood counterparts. A rigid caste system emerged: at the pinnacle reigned the purebloods, while the altered sub-humans inhabited the lower rungs. Most accepted this hierarchy, finding solace in their assigned place within society. Meanwhile, the five ships that had once touched down on Terra Nova now stood as the last bastions of a fading civilization—the pure-bloods and sub-humans alike, remnants of a dying humanity.

  In the year 2192, Terra Nova’s once-expanding cities transformed into massive strongholds, their hulls fortified against the planet’s hostility. These five ships, grounded and unable to take flight again, became humanity’s final lifeline. But hope was a fragile thread. Communication channels faltered, leaving the ship-cities isolated. Within their newly formed walls, survival became paramount. The struggle for resources ignited conflicts—each city vying for its existence. These were the fledgling kingdoms of a desperate era. Among them, The King’s Promise, now the Promise Empire, stood as a haven for purebloods. Although these original humans comprised a mere five percent of Terra Nova’s population, their influence remained unmatched. The Grand Star, on the other hand, metamorphosed into the Grand Star Theocracy. Here, religion and science intertwined, shaping the very fabric of society. Willing adherents and unwitting test subjects alike navigated this delicate balance.

 Then lastly Bastion a beacon of hope emerged—a sanctuary for all races, where the remnants of humanity found solace. Here, the past divisions blurred, and the present embraced diversity. Purebloods and sub-humans alike walked its cobbled streets, their destinies interwoven. The royal family, guardians of this haven, ruled with a blend of tradition and pragmatism—a monarchy tempered by the whispers of democracy. In the heart of Last Bastion, beneath the watchful eyes of ancient spires, unity blossomed—a fragile bloom in a world teetering on the edge. The walls of Last Bastion stood as a testament to resilience, soaring seven miles high and fortified with a thickness of two thousand feet. These colossal ramparts were more than mere barriers; they were a military stronghold, shielding the city from both the wrath of storms and the threat of invading armies. Within Last Bastion’s protective embrace, life unfolded in concentric circles, each ring serving a distinct purpose. The city was divided by three rings of these walls.

Wall Hope—The Outer Defense.

Behind this outer wall lay the slums, where the working class eked out their existence. These resilient souls comprised two-thirds of the city’s population, toiling amidst the echoes of industry and hardship. The second ring.

Wall Sanctuary—The Heart of the City, within this second ring thrived the bustling core of Last Bastion. Here, the pulse of life beat strong. Vast markets teemed with traders, hawking wares from distant lands. Stores overflowed with goods, their shelves a mosaic of necessity and luxury. Greenhouses nurtured life—a verdant oasis amid the harsh exterior. Animal fields sustained livestock, their bleats and lowing echoing through the city. At the very center stood the guild square, a nexus of power and purpose. Here, leaders orchestrated the symphony of workforces—from construction crews to tireless farmers, and even the intrepid trade companies and caravans that crisscrossed the market square. Lastly stood Wall Purity, a bastion of knowledge and nobility, rose with unwavering pride. Here one will find the archives whispered secrets data pads of forgotten wisdom, chronicles of lost technology, and the echoes of ancient authors from earth.

Libraries stood as beacons of enlightenment, their shelves cradling digital books on every subject—from celestial navigation to the musings of philosophers long gone. The Royal Palace, a testament to both ingenuity and legacy, emerged from the very heart of the once-mighty starship. Its towering spires, once conduits of interstellar travel, now reached skyward, their metallic veins echoing with whispers of the power this mighty vessel once held and noble distract circled around the palace its homes made of a mix of stone and metal.

In the year 2193, as the winds of change swept across Terra Nova, Last Bastion stood as humanity’s final beacon—a sanctuary for both purebloods and sub-humans. Within its towering walls, hope clung to existence. And then emerged the Outriders, a new breed of pioneers. These diverse souls—mercenaries, scavengers, scientists, and architects—shared a singular purpose: to secure fortune and fame by providing the city with necessities that eluded production after the cataclysmic fall. In the labyrinthine streets of Last Bastion, their footsteps echoed—a symphony of survival against a fading sky.

 Their mission: to reclaim lost technology and raw resources from the ruins left by the first colonizers. Terra Nova’s transformation had robbed its inhabitants of clean water and advanced tech, reshaping the very fabric of society. In this new economy, money had lost its luster. Instead, water, bullets, and scrap metal became the currency of survival. The rich and the military hoarded the remnants of advanced technology, while the masses bartered for essentials. Outriders scoured the wastelands, unearthing relics from the past. Old tablets, Fragments of forgotten knowledge, their screens etched with cryptic symbols. Ammo crates, Treasures of firepower, their contents coveted by those who roamed the desolate lands. Medicine, A rare elixir, capable of healing wounds and soothing pain. Sometimes, these intrepid scavengers banded together, pooling their skills to salvage entire areas or dismantle ancient spacecraft. Yet the most precious find was knowledge—blueprints, histories, and forgotten lore. Earth’s legacy whispered through these artifacts, guiding the Outriders and the people toward a future where survival meant more than mere existence.

 Our tale begins in the year 2232, Some forty years after the beginning of project Eden. Out in the wide sands of the Dead Man's desert an old cargo ship half-buried in the sand engines burned out and power core long cold and dead. Stripped for parts and dismantled a hundred times over for parts and salvageable tech and computers. Yet still, a team of Outriders was within cutting its frame with plasma torches and laser cutters. The leader of this group was a huge man by any standard a tall seven foot tall and at least a solid three hundred pounds of muscle upon muscle, pale skin atop his head sprouted a pair of bull horns his head covered in a thick mop of long black hair matched by a thick full beard that covered most of his face his gray eyes sunken with heavy bags under them behind him swayed an oxtail. He wore a pair of coveralls pulled down around his waist thick leather gloves on his hands. WILLIAM!!! He shouted yet no reply came back. WILLIAM!! WHERE THE BLOOD HELL ARE YOU, YOU DAM WOLF!!

 A pair of ears pricked up from behind a wall, followed by a much smaller man than the giant ox who was screaming like a bull gone mad. This man wore the same pair of brown coveralls and thick leather gloves. Standing at a stout five feet eleven inches, he weighed a mere one-eighty, yet his muscles spoke of strength. Sun-kissed skin, short-cut gray hair atop his head, and a pair of gray wolf ears adorned him. His thick bushy tail swayed behind him as he walked. Unlike the other man, he was much younger, and though he lacked facial hair, a thumb-width scar marked his jaw on the right side. His gray eyes remained fixed on the man before him. “What’s up, Boss? I was about to go help Charlie cut that wall open, like you wanted,” the smaller man said. The ox man, Gregory, looked down at William as if he wanted to kill him. “Like hell you were! You think I’m stupid because I’m part ox?” Gregory’s voice boomed. William gave a sly smile. “Not at all, great Sir Gregory—the great charging ox of the Bastion Guard.” William even offered a slight bow, as if addressing nobility. Gregory snorted, and his tail flicked. “You’re lucky you’re a father now, William, or I’d throw you off the top of this scrape pile.” William tilted his head, confusion etching his features. “Wait, what?” he asked. Yes, William was married, and his wife was pregnant, but she wasn’t due for another month. That’s why he took this job as a scraper.