On the tiny sovereign state of _ ,on the outskirts of the capital, stood Blood Hill, the keep of what was once the greatest family of mercenary-mages.

Their motto, power from blood, dictated their livelihood and their magic, which they used to raise armies to the ground alone.

Eventually, their power was their undoing. Blood Hill was destroyed, their secrets burned and their members killed and impaled. All but one.

Now, all that stands on the cursed hill is are ruins, rivers of flowing blood that scare the neighboring towns and one solitary mage.