Myos is a planet that is trying survive a harsh past while facing a harsher future. It is a place once covered by a sky filled with fire and ash. Even now despite clear skies, acidic rains can destroy crops or ruin drinking water. The oceans are corrosive, eating away at wooden vessels and often scarring unprotected skin. The shattered moons that stretch across the sky, although beautiful often fall from the heavens scorching homes and destroying land. There are the miles of corrupted lands, barren and cursed they often leave travelers who try to cross them sick or dead. Unexplored lands and the water’s depths are inhabited by vicious mutated creatures, but they aren’t even the most fearsome living beasts..
Life that once barely survived in the shadows has begun to thrive in the sunlight. The barbarians pillage the countrysides, spawning war amongst themselves and any opposing outsiders. They accept any people into their chaotic life on the fringes of society. The varied people of the barbarian tribes have no hope at peace, war is their way of life. Living as if the darkness will swallow the world again. Despite the many that choose or are forced into this life, others have begun to find new ways to live
For generations the myosi and arcole have called Myos home, eking out hard lives until the charred sky cleared to reveal the sun, moons, and stars. The myosi are a long lived people, full of inventiveness, life, and a strong will. They have toiled long to improve their standard of life, crafting complicated machines and creating beautiful art. The arcole are tall, proud, broad, and intimidating people. They prefer to work with their hands and at times struggle to relate to the other races of Myos. They take pride in their smaller communities and are prone to spontaneous celebration. These races survived the long cold nights together during the time of the scorched sky, and although as a people they struggle to understand one another, many live together.
There is another group now living among the myosi and arcole, even less understood the slek struggle to make Myos a home. Over a hundred years ago, it was as if the Gods cut into nothingness and from this slash appeared a Rift and out of the Rift poured thousands of soldiers. The slek fought among each other for months, at the hands of each other. When the Southern Empire got involved their numbers dwindled even lower. The remaining were exiled to the Withering Isles and lived in solitude for generations. Those that remain in exile call themselves the Dukarim but, many slek now live among other communities and try to blend into the cultures around them.
Despite the hardships, various factions have begun to unify and advance. The greatest minds in history have began using their genius to improve the lives of many. Knowledge, books, and those willing to teach make efforts to spread across the continents. The fires of industry have begun fueling the rapid advancement of technology. As the smoke rises and steam pumps pistons in the south, the sound of black powders being ignited echo off the dunes to the north, all while sparks fly, and power begins to surge through islands to the east. Such rapid changes will not come without great sacrifices. All of Myos’ creatures will soon learn, that they are their own worst enemies. Their corrupted world has harden them for the life ahead and as the tensions of the major factions rise to a breaking point, life will only grow harder.