**Disclaimer: Content found in these workings are based upon the game. Character personalities in story are made solely by the imagination and do not reflect any in-game characters. For entertainment.
Running. He was running down a narrow hallway, the dim light of the torches illuminated the peculiar etchings on the walls. But he didn't have time to notice them in full detail; his body kept moving, accelerating. He was not chasing after anything, he just had the desire to reach the end. This wish, however, was soon cut short as a stroke of light caught his eye off to the side, on the left wall. The man then went reeling, his balance slipping from him and his face falling to meet the cold slab of stone that served as the ground.
He did not feel the impact. Rather, his eyes adjusted to the light surrounding him as it took him several seconds to be aware of where he was. It seemed that he had fallen asleep while resting up against the wall of a hut. Sweat trickled down his brow. His right arm moved to wipe it away and with the same movement attempted to guzzle down another gulp from his calabash jug. He swore softly to himself when he realized that it was already empty. The grizzled man peered around the wall he was resting on and observed the town. Ronyan just wasn't the same anymore. In fact, he hadn't remembered seeing more than forty people outside on the square at once in ages, not since the Great War, the war of the Realm. That war had been the downfall of the Jinong empire.
In earlier times, the Jinong were a powerful, feared race. Deriving from the Tem'ja tribe in the Upper Sierra, their valor knew no limits. During childhood, each child is taught of brutality and relentless authority. Individual strength of a person was all that mattered. To an outsider, such training received by younger Jinong would have thought to be abuse or inhumane, but it was necessary for the Jinong to be as powerful as they were. The savages struck fear and hatred in the hearts of enemies with each raid, each conquer of a village. The Jinong empire, lead by Szhi-Hasut, extended into the far outer reaches of the Realm, suffocating the space of the Fujin and Guanyin Holds. Such a tyranny lasted for decades, that is until the Great War.
Today, the Jinong are almost equivalent to an extinct race. Merchants had always had a rough time navigating a route to Ronyan Fortress in the first place, but the Great War had definitely taken its toll on the empire. Hee'Jun gazed upon the sky, ridden with a thin cloud of red ash. He had heard of the two other clans before, the Guanyin and Fujin. He had fought against them valiantly in the Great War, but he had seen no hide nor hair of either faction since then.
Suddenly, the middle-aged warrior heard an uproar just down a few corners. Leaving his resting place out of both curiosity and excitement, he gathered his scattered belongings and started for the main fountain of Ronyan.
**This is a continual story, chapters will be posted as they are created. Feedback is accepted.
I'm kind of a pro nub