"Master you've come at last!"
"Shh! Quiet fool! The long sleep has robbed him of his memories, we must start at the beginning."
"Very well then, who shall tell it to him?"
"I will take that honor. This, my Lord, is your history:

"From the earliest days of humankind, a royal line of God-Kings has watched over us, guiding the actions of kings, priests and generals of all nations, leading us and planting the first seeds of civilization. Said to have sprung from the loins of an alien god, this Royal line is possessed of incredible Psionic powers, capable of acts of creation and destruction far beyond the reach of mortal men. The Psionic Line of Kings was exalted and loved by all, but none so revered as those born every fourth generation. These were the Warrior Messiahs, endowed with concentrated Psionics, capable of transforming deserts into Edens and of unleashing destructive forces unimagined even during the Atomic Age.

"To protect this Royal line, a society of warrior monks known as the Templars was formed from the purest branches of the bloodline to ensure that they too would bear Psionic powers. And the world prospered under their reign of peace.

"But like so many Children who are spoiled and protected, some men grew jealous of the Royal Line and thirsted for their own power. From these malcontent ranks emerged the Black Brethren. Originally they posed no threat to the Crown, as they were mere mortals, incapable of challenging the rule of the Psionic Line. But the king grew old, and his heir, the young Arman, was still but a child, unready to assume the throne. Aided by some unknown force, the Black Brethren stormed the Sky Palace atop Mount Psion and killed the king. Holding the boy, Arman, hostage, they demanded that the Templars forswear vengeance or the Black Brethren would kill the child-king.

"Sworn to protect the royal line, the Templars had no choice but to surrender their mystic secrets to the usurpers. Confined to a sanctuary deep within the bowels of Mt. Psion, the Templars were forced to take an oath of loyalty unto the Brethren and in exchange, Arman, the last of the Warrior Messiahs, was exiled into space to spend an eternity in a cryogenic sleep. For the Templars knew that though Arman could not avenge his father's death, neither could the Black Brethren threaten the royal line. And so the Age of Despair began.

"Having thus rid themselves of any threat to power, the Black Brethren began to herd the peoples of our world into camps, separating us into castes and slaughtering us for their own foul means. The sky grew streaked and mottled, banishing the sun, turning the fertile regions of the planet to arid, toxic places where no food would grow. Starving, we were forced to consume what meager scraps of human flesh they permitted us, while they feasted on the souls of those that perished in their massive human processing plants. No one seems to know how the Brethren learned to extract the life essence, or Nectar as they call it, but there are rumors of an evil even greater than the Brethren itself that moves them in unseen ways.

"For four hundred years we have suffered thus, standing by as we are raised for slaughter; only the sick and the insane are spared. The rest are crushed and boxed into Permasheds or brainwashed by propaganda machines and conscripted into the Brethren's service.

"But we elders keep and pass on the stories of the glorious past, the coming of darkness and how the last Warrior Messiah was banished to space. One such man, Arguy, rebelled against the Brethren and formed the underground. For a hundred years we have engaged in guerrilla warfare against the Brethren, hiding supplies for the revolution, stockpiling weapons and building a vessel that could rescue you from your exile. And despite countless massacres, though hunted by elite assassins, and being portrayed as enemies of the people, we have persevered in our struggle, dreaming of the day when our king, the last of the Warrior Messiahs, would be returned to us, destroying the war machines of four hundred years and restoring this tattered world to its former glory. Let peace reign once again, for the Age of Ascension is at hand!

©1996 ZOMBIE Virtual Reality Entertainment. All rights reserved.

THE GAME - THE LEGEND - REVIEWS - SCREENSHOTS