On Netherell, ships still rely on wind to fill their sails. Blacksmiths hammering at their forges produce the deadliest weapons which most of its population can imagine. Mounted knights, their armor allowing them to shrug off all but the luckiest arrow shots or spear thrusts, rule the battlefield. On Netherell, kings reign, peasants toil in the fields, and gods walk amongst them...
On Netherell, magic is real. Netherell has people who can call forth lightning and control the wind; who can shatter the minds of their enemies and summon demons to do their bidding. On Netherell, the dying, if left next to the right kind of tree, live on long after their bodies collapse into dust. Netherell's wildlife, monsters by the ken of those who live outside of this world, can devour souls, or breathe fire.
On Netherell, explorers from worlds beyond, galactics, work in secret to unravel its mysteries. Some do so out of curiosity. Others with the hope for profit or even honest patriotism. None of them, the scientists, traders, and soldiers looking for ways to exploit Netherell's unique features, dreams that solving its riddles could determine the fate of not only their distant home world but a thousand others as well.
On Netherell, a fuse lit at the dawn of history slowly burns...
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