The first rays of the sun painted the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the landscape. A lone bird soared gracefully through the crisp morning breeze. The sparkling waters of the shore glimmered like a field of diamonds, a serene beauty that contrasted sharply with the grim scene below.

  The once-pristine shore was tainted by the stench of death and the dark pools of blood seeping from countless corpses. The bodies, remnants of battles long past, lay in silent testimony to forgotten struggles. Time had moved on, leaving them as little more than a grim reminder of a violent history.

  At the peak of a hill overlooking the shore stood a man cloaked in a tattered brown hooded cape, his straight brown hair falling to his shoulders. He was tall, around six feet, and bore a rusted crown upon his head. The crown, crafted from cheap, dull metal, seemed more the work of a blacksmith than a king’s jeweler, its rough edges speaking to hardship rather than glory. His name was Bjorn, and despite the carnage below, his gaze was fixed on the sparkling sea, his expression captivated by its endless expanse.

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  Beside him stood a boy, shorter and younger, around 5 feet 6 inches tall. He had dark brown hair and wore a white long-sleeve tunic paired with worn brown pants. A ragged cape adorned his back, bearing the faded symbol of a blue and brown bear. This boy, Bo, looked out at the sea with wide, crystal-clear eyes, reflecting both awe and optimism.

  Behind them, five other figures stood silently, equally entranced by the vast, glimmering waters before them. The beauty of the sea seemed to transcend the bloody battlefield they stood upon, offering a rare moment of hope amidst the horror.

  Raising his hand high into the air, a tear tracing down his weathered face, Bjorn’s voice rang out with conviction,

  "At last, we have made it... Away from this wretched land and into the real world."

  A mesmerized face of optimism and an awestruck Bo.

  241 years ago everyone speculated this group's mighty Tribe had been wiped out of the face of the world, and vanished into a dead man's land known as the Outlands.

  However, with these waters that stand before them, the drought of dead dreams has been washed away into a memory of the past. The waters had inspired a single thought for this group...

  Revival.

  The Ursus Tribe is back...