The story so far...

[Anastasia]

Lifasa. A world where the forces of light and righteousness won. The forces of the Tyrant Bane were routed at the battle of Shaiman's Cliffs over a thousand years ago, his clergy exterminated to the last soul. The sneaking, poisoned whispers of the Adversary were quenched, his worship eradicated at the hands of Fol, King of the Ascended Throne of Heaven.  The haven of the Dark Dwarves was at last found 800 years ago, the vile forest and hills they lived in cleansed and sanctified. He-Of-No-Name was defeated by the metallic dragons, while Grahal the Devourer was bested in single combat by the Cleric-King Darral. Due to centuries of sacrifice from great heroes, Lifasa knew peace. Evil still lived in the heart of men and scattered fiends and abominations were known, but it was clear that Good had triumphed.

Each century life in Lifasa became brighter. Through the blessings of the Heavens and the guidance of the Gods, a world where magic was common and miracles came freely grew. It seemed that a true age of paradise had come to all. Evil was broken and falling back, the people wanted little and the shadow of darkness was being cleansed from mortal hearts. Magical creatures came to life with mortalkind, guiding them along. The fey took elven life in their hands, guiding them to a closer symbiosis with nature. Elementals and Xorn came to the Platinum Dwarves, gifting them with knowledge to bring them close to Moradin and the bones of Lifasa's rocky body. Goblins and orcs were joined by unicorns and blink dogs, who turned them away from savagery and introduced them to the Revel of Life. The tieflings of faraway Janspu were blessed, celestials from above coming to tutor them away from the dark impulses of their cursed heritage. Even a few creatures of pure evil turned to the light, casting aside pride and being reborn in humility. Indeed, the Promised Times had come.

No one knew where it started. Indeed, it seemed to happen everywhere at once. What began as another peaceful day dawned with promise; yet this time the sun across all the world rose a burning blood red. As the people of the world rose to see this terrible omen, reality itself seemed to be gutted apart like a dying fish. Indeed, the seams of reality split. From these gashes they came. Crawling on the ground was an ocean of lamentable things. These things of fat and clawing misery fell on the world first, whilst other things flew through. Giant, midnight black fiends, each one carrying a cursed greatsword and towering over even the tallest man. A single word from them could cause an explosion, a gesture causing lightning to slaughter all on its path. After them came the marching hordes, the bearded soldiers. Each one was filthy and carried only a rusty glaive. With murderous rage they fell on any they came across, killing and destroying everything they could.

The world reeled. In hours civilizations crumbled into dust. Yet many heroes rose that dark day, defending everything. All the people of Lifasa came together, waging a desperate war against the invaders. As worse horrors came through they stood proud and brave, giving their lives to give everyone hope and time. They stood against the great winged beasts, big as houses and with tridents that could gore ten men in a single sweep. The tormentors of chain followed, wearing the faces of lost loves and friends. Creaking, pale faced and horned men-like things came through in great battalions, followed by foul, maggot writhing giants who shot screaming hellfire from their bows. With them came the worst yet - the lords. Each one was tall and fire red, commanding armies of tens of thousands. A single look from them rendered a man comatose with fear, a single swipe of it's claw could disembowel the hardiest foe. Yet despite these odds, many pockets held! Great were the heroics, and in places the forces of Lifasa rallied!

Abigor came. The sky itself split as he passed into this reality. In that one moment all the plants of the world died, all the great rivers and lakes bursting into ever-boiling magma. In a voice that slew thousands through pure terror, he announced that his world was his for the Lord Bel. A vision of fear clad in immaculate armor, Abigor wasted no time in ending any hope of victory. On his dark horned steed did he go, seemingly at every point of resistance in mere hours. Each time he came, his charge shattered all defiance. Mounted knights of nightmares came with him, slaughtering the survivors. In mere hours the great Elven Tree burnt to ashes, a hundred thousand elves crucified and then raised as empty eyed horrors to cry in pain forever. The Castle of the White Swan was sacked for the first time in recorded history, the Ascended Throne of Heaven decorated with the heads of the descendants of Fol. The Mausoleum of Darral melted into black magma, the earth shattering apart for 99 leagues in all directions. Countless souls fell into the broken earth, never to be seen again.

The light lost. No, Lifasa lost. Those that lived through the opening of the nightmare were enslaved to their new masters. The devils of Baator had come! Abigor sat on the Ascended Throne of Heaven as the skies wept. In a voice that was heard to the end of the world and beyond, Lifasa was declared to be the conquest of Bel, Lord of the First. On that day, Lifasa was bound in chains.

Yet all was not lost. In the chaos and confusion, some realized the battle was lost fast enough to take action. Portals were opened, a lucky few able to escape. These fortunate souls scattered to the four winds, cast across the planes as refugees of a defeated land.

Can four heroes find the reason for this hope and bring hope back to Lifasa? Will the four of you rise to become the greatest heroes Lifasa has ever known? Will you let Hell triumph over you and submit to an eternity of misery in chains without hope?

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This is the story so far. Each of you have survived a sudden cataclysm. Like in any Suikoden game, now is the time to rally hope from the depths of defeat, organize your forces and become a hero remembered in history for all time. Design PC personalities that don't clash with this. Someone who's comatose from the attack or without any hope probably isn't going to work here. I don't plan this to be horribly dark, but the concept and it's opening required its own Ragnarok, so I delivered.

I want you guys to be able to take this, pull yourself up by your ballsack and be ready to give Hell some hell in return.