BLACK. The voice of every movie trailer speaks.

Voiceover: Debuting 3rd September. A new series comes to WwW.

Shadows. Not the heavy darkness of a cloudy night, but perhaps the shadowy darkness of a sky filled with storm clouds and even the first hints of fog on the air. The shadows fall upon a hedge, it seems to be unremarkable, but hushed voices come from behind it, the first is deep and carries traces of anger.

Voice: I don't care, that little girl gave me the creeps.

A second voice, not as deep as the first, but clearly still masculine. This one is laced with an earnestness that some might find attractive.

Voice 2: Either way, it was worth following her.

A third voice, male still but a little more playful.

Voice 3: You're such a drag Duros. It's done.

Which allows us to put a name to the first voice.

Duros: Shut up. I'm here aren't I?

Voice 3: Are you really scared of a little girl?

A fourth voice, this time feminine.

Voice 4: He has a point. She can't have been more than 10, I know we're way beyond civilisation out here, but a child wandering in to a shadowland alone is still a bit odd.

Duros: That's all I'm saying.

Voice 2: Which is exactly why we should be here.

The fifth and final voice now chimes in. Another male voice, this one is more clipped and efficient with perhaps the slightest touch of pomposity.

Voice 5: Having come this far it would seem foolish to turn back now, and we shouldn't lose our quarry.

Duros: Fine

From behind the hedge two figures emerge, both wearing impressive suits of armour, both with concealed faces. The armour is blending into the background, and would be difficult to see were we not already looking directly at it, yet is still recognisable as two different suits of armour of the immaculate dragons. The first, shorter figure moves with a practised assurance, low and steady, the second taller and more imposing with a little more jerkiness, this is a body more used to arrogance or the grace needed on a dancefloor than sneaking through a forest in the dead night but still competent enough to not draw the attention.

A brief pause, and three more figures come round the hedge, a striking wood aspect, her breastplate and powerbow both dark green and camouflaged into the woodland, she doesn't appear to be sneaking and yet somehow the plants around her are exactly where she needs them to be to minimise noise and maximise concealment. A tall, thin water aspect is next, doing his best to move silently but struggling a little, he looks displeased to have been forced into this situation.

The last to emerge is the most startling of all. As the eyes begin to search for the next pair of legs, instead a blade emerges at knee height. A man is crouched on it, and it floats a foot above the ground. He shifts his weight a mere fraction, steering his mount with practised ease and tipping it just into our view we can see it is a wonderful example of the rare Windblade Class Personal Transport. Whilst perhaps a little more visually conspicuous it is soon clear that a great deal is made up in silence as the Windblade drifts slowly past the foliage with not even the slightest hint of a sound.

We turn to see the mismatched fivesome on their progress through the forest, the front two now communicating with hand signals to direct the others. In the distance about to slip out of sight we see a small figure with long black hair and a long white cloak, this certainly seems to be the young girl in question.


A building, covered in leaves and vines. The stone is dark green, or is it black? The lighting is as bad as before, perhaps worse, the air still seems to hang thick and heavy over everything. The five dragon bloods we met earlier stand in the foreground, talking in more normal voices now.

Duros (in the light blue armour): So we all know there was something deeply wrong with that little girl, right?

Wood Aspect: Yuh, you can feel the power radiating off this place right, Adrus?

Adrus (in the red armour): I'm sure we all can Ekara. But that just makes it more important to find out what's going on here.

Air Aspect (on his windblade): I dunno, I mean, spooky much?

Adrus: C'mon we all wanna know what's inside, don't we.

Ekara: I guess...

The air aspect shrugs and glances momentarily at the water aspect, who has yet to speak. He nods, gently. And that seems to end the conversation. The five terrestrials walk slowly towards the entrance.


A room, much better lit than outside, the walls and floor are the same green/black stone as outside but covered in arcane sigils, the ceiling is lost in darkness. A large round hole seems to fill the centre of the room, but there is plenty of space on each side. There is a large sturdy looking wooden door, the iron fittings not quite in the best repair. A tall, toned, pale figure lounges next to it, tossing a throwing knife up and down in his hand. His armour is disconcerting, it seems black and yet there is the hint of moving white shapes somehow within it. His greasy black hair flops over one eye not unattractively, and he smirks, brushing it out before resuming playing with his knife.

The door opens and in walks the small girl from earlier in the same white cloak. She is as pale as the man, and somehow it is more surprising on such an otherwise angelic face. She doesn't glance at the man to her right, but instead begins to walk across the room to our right, again we turn to follow her, but as the main features of the room come into view she seems suddenly insignificant.

A dais occupies the end of the room and on it a throne, built from jade, moonsilver and soulsteel, accompanied in velvets black, dark red and dark green. Adorned with skulls and distorted faces, it is clearly designed to be imposing. Behind it a huge artifact hangs on the wall, circular divided into sections. Strange characters in each segment, sometimes one, sometimes two but most have three. The artifact seems to have been built mostly from jade, with hints of starmetal, cast into a frame made of circles of moonsilver and spokes of intertwined orichalcum and soulsteel.

A woman stands it front of it, her back to us, blood red hair in a tight bun over flowing black robes, her skin the same sickly pale colour as the other two occupants of the room. Her hands are tracing over the sigils and there is muttering on the very edge of being audible. The young girl kneels before the throne but the woman doesn't turn. The girl waits.

As nothing seems to be happening for the moment we withdraw slightly to get a better view of the totality. A higher vantage point shows us all that we have so far taken in, with one additional point. The hole in the floor we identified earlier is not empty as we might have suspected or bottomless as we might have feared. Rather a foot below the level of the floor it is filled with some sort of viscous liquid, rippling and swirling in a multitude of colours.

The door bursts open a second time, and the air aspect flies in, spinning and twisting to occupy a position near us, overlooking the rest of the room. His bow is drawn. Duros and Adrus tumble into the room too, back to back with weapons drawn, Ekara and the Water aspect stay in the doorway, allowing their more adventurous companions to assess things first.

The woman at the artifact doesn't even turn, she speaks and her voice resonates with a multitude of timbres, and a primal shiver of terror runs up even the most steadfast of spines.

Woman: “Dispose of them.”

The young girl spins, rising and drawing a child sized serpent-sting staff, built in soulsteel. Her face is no longer sweet and angelic, her eyes and lips are both blood red and her mouth is filled with sharp teeth as she grins. She deflects the arrow loosed from the Air Aspect on the Windblade, released as she rose, but a second arrow from the Wood aspect in the doorway grazes her shoulder. The two dragon armoured men stalk towards her, as the water aspect steps a little way inside the room, but they are interrupted by a couple of knives hitting them from the shadows, the man from earlier suddenly reappearing.

The man in the air armour simply points, uttering two names brusquely.

Duros “Adrus, Taris.”

He pops his claws with a SNIKT, and advances on the small girl, their artifact weapons clash, thrust swipe and parry. The two exalts both have remarkable dexterity and they dance around each other neither gaining the upper hand, their animas flaring, each looking for an opening. Their staccato duet is interrupted by the regular flap of an arrow from on high, yet even coordinating their efforts the two Blooded cannot pierce the girl's defences. Adrus and Taris have charged into combat with the greasy-haired man and though he is also fighting reasonably defensively they are having an equally difficult time gaining an upper hand. Ekara has stepped into the room a little way, and arrow on her bow and is trying to line up a shot at the same man, but the three battling exalts are moving too chaotically for her to do so. The little girl is the first to make progress in frantic ringing of weapon on weapon. She ducks under a strike from Duros grabbing him around the waist and with a strength belying her small size she rolls backwards, throwing him across the room.

Duros lands with an almighty crash on the large artifact behind the throne. He slides down the wall groggily landing on the floor head first, limply. The seams in the great dial are glowing with powerful magical energies, and there is just the fraction of a second for realisation to set in before a great explosion rips through the piece. Two things happen simultaneously, the pool in the middle of the room begins to churn, the motion and the colour swirls increasing in violence. The shards of the artifact follow a similar pattern in the air of the room, as it is filled with a swirling vortex of components. There is an incoherent scream of rage from the woman, she reaches over to Duros who is beginning to come round. She literally rips him into two pieces, splattering his innards across her throne, and flings his remains into the pool. They disappear rapidly beneath the waves, and there are cries or moans of dismay from his companions. She begins moving her hands in complex patterns, weaving essence through the air.

The shock of their friends death throws the others off their stride, yet they cannot let up for all their lives are in danger. Adrus continues to fight the assassin to a stand-still with Taris providing assistance. Yet the small girl is winding up for another epic strike. Her staff pulses with a red light and she flings her arm forward and her staff extends towards Adrus' back. Yet the girl is not fast enough as Ekara catches her movement out of the corner of her eye. She yells 'Adrus' and flings herself between him and the staff, trying to deflect it with her bow, her effort is futile but she has interposed her own body between the weapon and Adrus. The staff pierces her breast, sinking deep enough for the tip to emerge on the other side. Pools of red spread across both sides of her torso, her body goes rigid rather than limp however and spasms in pain as the staff pulses. The small girl's triumphant giggle is turned into a despairing gurgle however as an arrow from the Air aspect finds her throat. A second follows swiftly into her gut, and she sinks to her knees coughing blood, her own life ending a mere second after she took Ekara's.

Ekara's last words are an inaudible mutter as the rooms' mistress completes her incantation. The entire room flashes with necrotic energy, flinging all the other occupants to the floor. But even this powerful creature has underestimated the forces she is dealing with. The swirling chaos of the room has become focused, and the shards of the great creation, as well as the pieces of it's frame are now being sucked into the pool. The bodies, limp and helpless from her spell have been lifted into the air as well and are also circling, tipping towards the pool.

The three surviving dragon bloods and the greasy haired warrior seem to struggle against the flow in vain. The two lifeless bodies precede them into the coloured vortex, but not by much. The three friends claw desperately for each others hands, managing to find at least a fingertip to hold before the well claims them.


Three bodies fall from a couple of feet up onto a metal floor. They are in a long corridor built of metal panels. The lights flicker, audibly, there are sounds in the distance perhaps a tapping perhaps a hissing. From one of them, it's not clear who, there are two words.

Voice: “Oh Boy”


Power Chords. We see the wheel in all it's glory, spinning fast, just too fast to read, but the occasional symbol is legible. The title appears over the image, the font just drifting into the ostentatious.

A smiling Fire Aspect, his eyes twinkling as he runs a hand through his hair. Superimposed: CardinalSin.

A stern water aspect, standing he proffers his hand for a handshake. Superimposed: Oneiros.

A laughing Air aspect, he zooms towards the camera, swerving only at the last moment. Superimposed: Blackrat.

The chords have been speeding up and now the sequence of images moves almost too fast to see, crescendoing for the final chords, we can just make out: A countdown timer, the coloured vortex, a desert landscape, the barrel of a firewand, a smirking man, a sailing ship, two men duelling with swords, a mouth filled with viscous saliva and too many teeth, a mountain wreathed in mist, an explosion, a flaming arrow on a bowstring, a man falling past a waterfall, a bloody knife in shadows.

The final shot is the three dragon bloods looking grim, walking towards camera. Superimposed: Created by Brave Sir Robin.

CUT to black. The voiceover speaks again as the scene fades slowly into view.

Voiceover: The story of three heroes, lost in realms of which they've never dreamed. And trying to find a way home.

The metal corridor again. Adrus makes eye contact with the Air Aspect, the three blooded are yet to rise to their feet.

Adrus: “Lief.... Where are we?”

CUT to black.