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Unfortunately, there are a bunch of pesky little citizens running around. Fortunately, you know how to deal with them. All you have to do is breathe your flame, and they cower in fear, lest they die in a roaring inferno. What you really want is to have the city as a lair, to hibernate in its ruins, and to eat well of the humans' livestock. But what you didn't figure on was the humans fighting back. Apparently in the millenium since you went into hibernation, humans have acquired some new toys. And some of them hurt quite a bit.

You cannot just roam freely about, like you used to in the dark ages. For the most part, you need to attack at night; smartly, ferociously, and where it will hurt the humans most. Your war is not just a war of destruction, though there is plenty of havoc wherever you strike; your war is also a war of demoralization. If, through wanton destruction, you can convince the humans, just as you used to, that there is nothing left worth fighting for, they might just leave the city behind, to the benefit of you and the others.

And speaking of others, there are three of you. One,

, is a

dragon; jet-black scales shimmering with a menacing sheen should light reflect off them. He is aggressive and destructive, and has an attack that can break through defenses which you and the other cannot. And the other,

, is an old

dragon, battered and scarred from battles long before your time. Centuries, no, millennia of conflict and battle have taught him how to evade attacks in ways yet unprecedented to you.

And speaking of you, you're a

, a white-scaled dragon of terrible beauty, with teeth of iron and a temper to match. You do not have the same limitations as your counterparts; you can venture forth in during daylight to take life. Sunlight refracts off your gossamer wings without paining you as it would the rest of your kind. You don't know why this is; you simply accept it. But what you do know is that the humans will get wise to the advent of daytime attacks very quickly, and due to the loss of the element of surprise, you can only do it once. And you also know that if you do, the humans will call in reinforcements, so it will be nearly impossible for any of you to wreak much destruction that night.

During the day, for the most part, you each sleep a deep slumber in your own temporary lair, separated from the others, and solitary in your recuperation. However, at night you join together to drive out the humans from the city which you relentlessly attempt to inhabit. During these night time battles, you can

with each other to plan the demise of the cursed resistance in real time.

However, one thing is clear: To gain a foothold in this overworld, you must destroy the humans and drive them out of Lansdown.

There was peace. There was tranquility. There was life. There was happiness.
For a brief moment, everything in life seemed as if it could be perfect...

And then that moment ended.

The dark beasts of myth have risen, and you have no choice but to try to survive.

You were never one to hurt anyone, or anything, but since the Great Desolation, even the harmless have found themselves without safe haven, and with nowhere to turn. They come, and they breathe, and fire reaches up to the skies and claws its way through your civilization mercilessly. The horrible beasts with beady golden eyes soullessly rain destruction from above, leaving a wasteland in their wake.

You saw scores, no, hundreds, bathed in flame, and scorched to death without mercy.

You yearned to help. To do something—anything—to quench the destruction and strike back at the scaled aerial predators burning what was once your home. Every night they come. And every night more die.

And your heart aches to be of service.

As a trained medical assistant, you have been stationed on call if any medical staff need to be replaced in an emergency. In the mean time, you help out in other ways.

If any medical staff are killed in action, you will be promoted to the front line. Your responsibility will increase at that time, and from then on you will be able to

any player for a time. At sundown, simply target any player of your choice. If all goes well, they will be safe from harm. But all good things must come to an end. At the end of the next day, the cries for help will ring out anew, and you must choose another life to save.

So help any way you can, and remember: in a crisis such as this, to save one life is to potentially save many. And you must save anyone that you can, so that in your stead, they can hunt down the dragons, and destroy them all.

Unfortunately, there are a bunch of pesky little citizens running around. Fortunately, you know how to deal with them. All you have to do is breathe your flame, and they cower in fear, lest they die in a roaring inferno. What you really want is to have the city as a lair, to hibernate in its ruins, and to eat well of the humans' livestock. But what you didn't figure on was the humans fighting back. Apparently in the millenium since you went into hibernation, humans have acquired some new toys. And some of them hurt quite a bit.

You cannot just roam freely about, like you used to in the dark ages. You need to attack at night; smartly, ferociously, and where it will hurt the humans most. Your war is not just a war of destruction, though there is plenty of havoc wherever you strike; your war is also a war of demoralization. If you can convince the humans, as you used to, that there is nothing left worth fighting for, they might just leave the city to you and the others.

And speaking of others, there are three of you. One,

, is a

; a white-scaled dragon of terrible beauty, with teeth of iron and a temper to match. She does not have the same limitations as you and your other counterparts; light-refraction off her gossamer wings enables her to venture forth during daylight as well. And the other,

, is an old

dragon, battered and scarred from battles long before your time. Centuries, no, millennia of conflict and battle have taught him how to evade attacks in ways yet unprecedented to you.

And speaking of you, you're of the

breed; jet-black scales shimmering with a menacing sheen should light reflect off them. You are aggressive and destructive, and can sometimes break through defenses that your counterparts cannot. No matter how well a target is defended or protected, with your special attack, you can punch through and wreak destruction regardless. But the humans will get wise to your special attack very quickly, and due to the loss of the element of surprise, you can only do it once.

During the day, you each sleep a deep slumber in your own temporary lair, separated from the others, and solitary in your recuperation. However, at night you join together to drive out the humans from the city which you relentlessly attempt to inhabit. During these night time battles, you can

with each other to plan the demise of the cursed resistance in real time.

However, one thing is clear: To gain a foothold in this overworld, you must destroy the humans and drive them out of Lansdown.

There was peace. There was tranquility. There was life. There was happiness.
For a brief moment, everything in life seemed as if it could be perfect...

And then that moment ended.

The dark beasts of myth have risen, and you have no choice but to try to survive.

You were never one to hurt anyone, or anything, but since the Great Desolation, even the harmless have found themselves without safe haven, and with nowhere to turn. They come, and they breathe, and fire reaches up to the skies and claws its way through your civilization mercilessly. The horrible beasts with beady golden eyes soullessly rain destruction from above, leaving a wasteland in their wake.

You saw scores, no, hundreds, bathed in flame, and scorched to death without mercy.

You yearned to help. To do something—anything—to quench the destruction and strike back at the scaled aerial predators burning what was once your home. Every night they come. And every night more die.

And your heart aches to be of service.

All you've done for the past ten years is facilitate communications at independent corporations. You were never trained in any of the valiant skills that some of your human brothers and sisters have been, but you can help where it counts, and battlefield communication is key.

You have the passive ability of enabling communications for a group of comlink operators of which you do not know the size or identity. If you die, others will lose that precious ability to communicate in battle.

So help any way you can, to hunt down the dragons, and destroy them all.

Unfortunately, there are a bunch of pesky little citizens running around. Fortunately, you know how to deal with them. All you have to do is breathe your flame, and they cower in fear, lest they die in a roaring inferno. What you really want is to have the city as a lair, to hibernate in its ruins, and to eat well of the humans' livestock. But what you didn't figure on was the humans fighting back. Apparently in the millenium since you went into hibernation, humans have acquired some new toys. And some of them hurt quite a bit.

You cannot just roam freely about, like you used to in the dark ages. You need to attack at night; smartly, ferociously, and where it will hurt the humans most. Your war is not just a war of destruction, though there is plenty of havoc wherever you strike; your war is also a war of demoralization. If, through wanton destruction, you can convince the humans, just as you used to, that there is nothing left worth fighting for, they might just leave the city behind, to the benefit of you and the others.

And speaking of others, there are three of you. One,

, is a

dragon; jet-black scales shimmering with a menacing sheen should light reflect off them. He is aggressive and destructive, and has an attack that can break through defenses that you and the other cannot. And the other,

, is a

, a white-scaled dragon of terrible beauty, with teeth of iron and a temper to match. She does not have the same limitations as you and your other counterparts; sunlight refraction off her gossamer wings enables her to venture forth during daylight as well.

And speaking of you, you're of the old

breed. Battered and scarred from wars past, millennia of conflict and battle have taught you how to evade attacks in ways yet unprecedented to your counterparts. But even the staunchest of opponents must meet its match in battle some day. Though you can avoid destruction once, the second time you will be vanquished.

During the day, you each sleep a deep slumber in your own temporary lair, separated from the others, and solitary in your recuperation. However, at night you join together to drive out the humans from the city which you relentlessly attempt to inhabit. During these night time battles, you can

with each other to plan the demise of the cursed resistance in real time.

However, one thing is clear: To gain a foothold in this overworld, you must destroy the humans and drive them out of Lansdown.

There was peace. There was tranquility. There was life. There was happiness.
For a brief moment, everything in life seemed as if it could be perfect...

And then that moment ended.

The dark beasts of myth have risen, and you have no choice but to try to survive.

You were never one to hurt anyone, or anything, but since the Great Desolation, even the harmless have found themselves without safe haven, and with nowhere to turn. They come, and they breathe, and fire reaches up to the skies and claws its way through your civilization mercilessly. The horrible beasts with beady golden eyes soullessly rain destruction from above, leaving a wasteland in their wake.

You saw scores, no, hundreds, bathed in flame, and scorched to death without mercy.

You yearned to help. To do something—anything—to quench the destruction and strike back at the scaled aerial predators burning what was once your home. Every night they come. And every night more die.

And your heart aches to be of service.

But you were never trained in any of the practices that some of your human brothers and sisters have been. You have no power but your voice and your vote, but sometimes that is enough.

So help any way you can, to hunt down the dragons, and destroy them all.

There was peace. There was tranquility. There was life. There was happiness.
For a brief moment, everything in life seemed as if it could be perfect...

And then that moment ended.

The dark beasts of myth have risen, and you have no choice but to try to survive.

You have long watched the city as it slept, all but ignorant to the outside world. But now even the harmless find themselves without safe haven, and with nowhere to turn. Some time ago, dark beasts of myth fell upon the city with rage, scattering before them what was once a teeming center of civilization, turning all they touched into rubble and ash. They came, and they breathed, and fire reached up to the skies, clawing its way through all in its path. The horrible creatures with the golden eyes soullessly rained destruction from above, and left in their wake a wasteland.

And you saw scores, no, hundreds, bathed in flame; scorched to death without mercy.

Despite your aversion to society, you yearned to help. To do something—anything—to quench the destruction and strike back at the scaled aerial predators burning what was once the home to so many. But every night they come. And every night more die.

You were never trained in any of the practices that some of your human brothers and sisters have been, but you can help out by communicating things that happen to other

around you. You do that by using your

. The airwaves are only open for battle at night; during the day they are used by the medical staff and fortification teams.

Using this tool, and the help of the other Rangers, you help to fight back against the dragons, and destroy them all.

There was peace. There was tranquility. There was life. There was happiness.
For a brief moment, everything in life seemed as if it could be perfect...

And then that moment ended.

The dark beasts of myth have risen, and you have no choice but to try to survive.

You were never one to hurt anyone, or anything, but since the Great Desolation, even the harmless have found themselves without safe haven, and with nowhere to turn. They come, and they breathe, and fire reaches up to the skies and claws its way through your civilization mercilessly. The horrible beasts with golden eyes soullessly rain destruction from above, leaving a wasteland in their wake.

You saw scores, no, hundreds, bathed in flame, and scorched to death without mercy.

You yearned to help. To do something—anything—to quench the destruction and strike back at the scaled aerial predators burning what was once your home. Every night they come. And every night more die.

And your heart aches to be of service.

As a trained medical doctor, you can

any player for a time. At sundown, simply target any player of your choice. If all goes well, they will be safe from harm. But all good things must come to an end. At the end of the next day, the cries for help will ring out anew, and you must choose another life to save.

You do have the ability to mend your own wounds, but this will stop you from helping others for a time. And the demand is too great for you to do this more than once.

So help any way you can, and remember: in a crisis such as this, to save one life is to potentially save many. And you must save anyone that you can, so that in your stead, they can hunt down the dragons, and destroy them all.

There was peace. There was tranquility. There was life. There was happiness.
For a brief moment, everything in life seemed as if it could be perfect...

And then that moment ended.

The dark beasts of myth have risen, and you have no choice but to try to survive.

You were never one to hurt anyone, or anything, but since the Great Desolation, even the harmless have found themselves without safe haven, and with nowhere to turn. They come, and they breathe, and fire reaches up to the skies and claws its way through your civilization mercilessly. The horrible beasts with golden eyes soullessly rain destruction from above, leaving a wasteland in their wake.

You saw scores, no, hundreds, bathed in flame, and scorched to death without mercy.

You yearned to help. To do something—anything—to quench the destruction and strike back at the scaled aerial predators burning what was once your home. Every night they come. And every night more die.

And your heart aches to be of service.

As a trained soldier, you have the ability to

players who you think are dragons. At sundown, simply target any player of your choice. If all goes according to plan, they will be dead by morning. Your decisions must be made judiciously in the heat of battle; for stray shots can kill the very people you wish to protect.

Your mission is to help any way you can, and from your training you've always remembered: in a crisis such as this, sometimes to take lives means saving lives. And you must save anyone that you can, so that together, you can hunt down the dragons, and destroy them all.

There was peace. There was tranquility. There was life. There was happiness.
For a brief moment, everything in life seemed as if it could be perfect...

And then that moment ended.

The dark beasts of myth have risen, and you have no choice but to try to survive.

You were never one to hurt anyone, or anything, but since the Great Desolation, even the harmless have found themselves without safe haven, and with nowhere to turn. They come, and they breathe, and fire reaches up to the skies and claws its way through your civilization mercilessly. The horrible beasts with golden eyes soullessly rain destruction from above, leaving a wasteland in their wake.

You saw scores, no, hundreds, bathed in flame, and scorched to death without mercy.

You yearned to help. To do something—anything—to quench the destruction and strike back at the scaled aerial predators burning what was once your home. Every night they come. And every night more die.

And your heart aches to be of service.

You don't have some of the specialized training that others have, but, ever determined to help, you scrounge weapons and ammo for others, with which they can fight back against the archaic terrors of the sky.

You have a passive ability that allows you to

that you scrounge from the streets. If you die, others may lose their capability to fight back.

Your mission is to help any way you can, to hunt down the dragons, and destroy them all.

There was peace. There was tranquility. There was life. There was happiness.
For a brief moment, everything in life seemed as if it could be perfect...

And then that moment ended.

The dark beasts of myth have risen, and you have no choice but to try to survive.

You were never one to hurt anyone, or anything, but since the Great Desolation, even the harmless have found themselves without safe haven, and with nowhere to turn. They come, and they breathe, and fire reaches up to the skies and claws its way through your civilization mercilessly. The horrible beasts with golden eyes soullessly rain destruction from above, leaving a wasteland in their wake.

You saw scores, no, hundreds, bathed in flame; scorched to death without mercy.

You yearned to help. To do something—anything—to quench the destruction and strike back at the scaled aerial predators burning what was once your home. Every night they come. And every night more die.

And your heart aches to be of service.

But you were never trained in any of the practices that some of your human brothers and sisters have been. You have no power but your voice and your vote, but sometimes that is enough.

So help any way you can, to hunt down the dragons, and destroy them all.