It all began with the blessings of the Pantheon. Three Gods created the Ojou: wealthiest, fairest and most powerful of all beings. Seven created the Tomboys: great people of hard work and inner beauty, and other seven created the Gyarus: those who enjoy life and its gifts above anything else.
And then nine Gods blessed all the other beings: the Megane, always rummaging for more knowledge – sages that live in their secret coves, the Lolis: eternal youths and innocence, rumored to bring good graces to those who deserve it, the Muscle Girls: mighty titans who test their strength in combat, the OL: the most diligent in all fields, the Christmas Cakes: aged as fine wine, sweet as the name they have been known.
And lastly, the Lombar, or as they’re known for centuries, the Normal People – Men and Women of shifting hearts and complex minds, known for their recurring tendencies to change history in the most subtle of ways.
There was harmony. There was peace.
But things can never hope to become perfect.
Long, long even before the ancient times, four demons rose from the burning chasms of the world, creeping through obsidian, magma, stone and earth… and there beneath the witnessing stars, with their great dark powers, they rose four Spires, all of them entirely made of slade from deep down and parted the clouds and eclipsed the moon.
Four Spires were named:
Ìtdùnedit, the Doomed Castle of the Eastern Marshes, created by the Demon Spugac.
Akmanbërûl, the Sunken Bastion of the Northwestern Frozen Wastelands, designed by the Brute Risa.
Geshud-mothram, the Fortress of Curses of the Northern Tundras, built by Gothum, the Door of Hate.
And lastly Rimtaradur, the Citadel of all Earths of the central mountains at the top of the world, created by something whose name will forever be cursed in all tomes of history and all known cultures.
Ogastozu, the Nethgönarare.
They were the first and greatest evils the world has even been slighted with, and soon, they spread all over Xetsusmata. United, they were invincible, no Tomboy, Gyaru or Ojou could hope to match against the Demons and their raw strength, no sword cut into their skin, no fur was blighted by their own blood, and no one lived past the first encounter.
Yet the onslaught of the Konad Uthgúr did not relent.
With the portals that lied deep within the Spires, they brought lesser creatures upon the world: the omer-ar, the unyielding servants of green flesh… and the Demons used them to reach all places, to walk over all roads, to settle where the Sun did not shine.
The first century passed, and the entirety of the north of Xetsusmata was taken over. Tomboys and Gyarus fell one by one, and soon, the latter have become nothing but myths and the former are at the last vestiges of their History.
Where were the Ojous? Have they left us to our doom? Demanded the Tomboys, yet no word was uttered from the southern winds.
Where are our daughters that the omer-ar have stolen from us? Cried mothers, yet no justice could be brought.
Darkness settled on the deep ends on the world as a scar, and for over a time that seemed to match thousands of years, the peace was tense and fickle. And then, still yet in a time before memory, tragedy struck.
And the last nail in the coffin was the betrayal of the Lombar’s God, Warosp, he who was obsessed with blight, death, disease and deformity. He took an essential part in Ogastozu’s next step to dominate all others, and created a dimensional anchor so that Ogastozu will never fade back to the Underworld after pondering the ineffable subtleties of dreams.
So that great fortresses might be raised and tested in siege.
In order that acts of torture be perpetrated.
So that all should gaze upon a truly gruesome visage.
Fed by power as the God’s Avatar, Ogastozu struck down the three other Demons one by one until he conquered all of their dominions, and rapidly rallied all his acquired armies towards the rebuilding civilization. The spires were turned into fortresses, his rise was supported by all his followers both omer-ar and not, and he settled his burning gaze southward.
Towards Solon Laltur, the last Tomboy Civilization remaining.
Now the trials of the days of old have come back, the Tomboys are the first and perhaps the only defenders of the frontier between the civilized world and Ogastozu’s warmongering.
But they will not fall back. Not before when Evil was born, and not now, even in the face of hopelessness.
And now, there begins a new chapter of History with the gathering of seven young Tomboys, who are to march deep into the snow-covered mountains right at the edges of Rimtaradur. The Tomboys must reach to all the other creations of the Gods and warn them all of Ogastozu’s pretensions at all haste.
…can a meager force of Seven Tomboys prevent the invasion of what seems to be over hundreds of thousands of enemies? Will the Tomboys succeed in their self-imposed mission? Will the others support their struggle?
Or will everything be surrounded by Darkness?
All is left to chance and fate, right in the Tomboy’s embark site, Lunrith, “Cloudytanned”.
Strike the Earth!