For ages the world of Midgard has been covered by great trees of a never-ending forest. With some growing to the width of up to ten feet and a height that no man's eye can reach from the ground, much of the world has remained shrouded in mystery. The few settlements of man that are scattered across the continent mostly lie in seclusion from one another, the ancient roads of the past long gone, disappearing under the cover of the gradual encroaching forces of nature. Located in the few clearings within the forest where the trees were young enough to be taken down, the towns and villages of humanity press on in a shattered existence during an extensive, but fragile peace.

However, stories have circulated for generations of man's once glorious past, speaking of grand cities of an ideal society where strength, honor, courage, and loyalty drove them forward. Legends of great heroes and followers of a forgotten power that helped maintain the serenity of peace. Unfortunately, the ballads of a war that had torn all that had existed of man's grandeur are heard more often. The elders of many villages give these series of wars different names: the Feral Wars, the Wars of Savagery; but all men understand the Scourge of Exterminatus.

The ancient beasts of the forest, older than the race of man, waged a war upon humanity ages ago several times in a string of "Great Hunts," as they so avidly called them. Although most of man refuse to admit to any semblance of intelligence in the creatures, their seemingly sentient nature is difficult to deny as they laid waste to man, nearly destroying the entirety of them. Yet, their advance mysteriously halted. Their presence all but faded from what remained of man's holdings and retreated into the deep shadows of the western forest. Now, the beasts are seen but once in a while, raiding a small village from time to time, or perhaps the curious traveler who wandered too far.

A century later, there have been subtle rumors of whispers within the forest. Few villages recognize it, and fewer people. There is no remnant of human authority or unity, the Old Order has long collapsed and been long forgotten. The beasts have seemed content for a century and man is still too weary to move on in the fear of provoking those who doomed them to their current fate. Yet, the taste in the air differs from before. The rage of the Beasts appears tainted from its nature.

Chaos reigns and darkness falls; there are but a few sturdy enough to be capable of rallying their comrades to fight and still fewer of them who are burdened enough to make the attempt. The Beasts march, humanity cowers, and the last followers of the Old Order stand to make one last mark on history and the ballads of legend.