Defenders of the Ruined (Not a fanfic)

Once, Urth was a simple kingdom ruled by the Dwarves, Elves, Humans, the tribal folk, and even the occult magicians who continued their studies of the Supernatural in their strongholds. 

Wars continued to stir amongst these tribes, magicians, humans, and such. Although ununited, the world was still forgiving and kind to most who lived there. 

Until… they came. 

It was just another day when it happened. The tribal men were at the foot of the dwarven mountain, screaming at the dwarves to return the gems which they stole from their rivers. The Dwarves were laughing maniacally at the top of their mountain walls. 

Then, all of a sudden, a crimson light shattered the sky itself, ripping apart a hole in the atmosphere. The booming sound that roared across the lands of Urth silenced both the screaming tribals and the laughing dwarves. 

One moment later, otherworldly creatures began to descend upon the fields of Dezzar. Creatures with the faces of death and destruction itself. An unholy sight to behold even. 

Urthians never believed their world would End. But at that moment, everyone had a doubt in their hearts. The charging beasts stung the flesh of the tribals with their eerie dark claws and ripped one or two apart by the mere swing of a limb. 

The tribals retreated into the mountain. The dwarves aided them inside their walls, fending off against the beasts ravaging their mountain. 

Hours later, the mountain was surrounded by strange beasts, colors of deadly purple and crimson. The Urthians had even witnessed dragons. Yet, these beasts did not radiate the fear and pride of a dragon itself.

The only thing these creatures reflected was death itself. 

An hour before the dawn of the next day, the chickens in the Mountain began to cry to wake the Urthians up. The tribal men did not merely hold the wild boomerangs and spears which they fought with. They now had heavy hammers in hand, shields, and even the new strange mechanism called muskets which the Dwarves had invented.

For the very first time, the cry of two different clans came as one. 

"Forward, Urthians!" 

The gates of the dwarven mountain unleashed, armies of Urthians plunging head first into the face of the otherworldly creatures. 

The Mountain of Roth fell that night as half the tall men of the Ulkali tribe were buried at the foot of this mountain. Yet, some escaped and lived to tell the tale and spread the rumors of how Ruined beings from another world had come to invade Urth. 

…100 Years Later…

Urth was no longer, simply, Urth. It was The Ruined World now. 

If not for the brave and bold ones that stood against the Ruined creatures, it would no longer hold at least the 50% of the population left in Urth either. If not for us, the Defenders of the Ruined, Urth would've fallen ages ago.