Times historic are often penned after the fact in the lifeblood of the pitiful, forgotten masses. That roiling, uncountable crush of humanity, they who held the pikes and they who threw down the tyrants. Their veins opened by gazes academic, sharp and cruel, and pecked away at with quills, written out of their own story.

The Second Dark Crusade was a time of such poignancy. A time when the light of man waned and flickered, choking in the acrid smoke of its own inadequacy. As befitting of such an age it has been covered more than a capital whore, and so I attempt not to tell that story again.

That story of dull, unfeeling analysis. Neither here will you find the browbeating, propagandistic screeds so common in the hands of men, the light of youth still burning behind their eyes.

Nay, here I shall attempt to cover fresh ground, not tread on the grave dirt of long dead authors. Here I shall attempt to tell the story of the small lives caught, unbeknownst to them, in the great and torrential downpour that we now call history.

Here lies the true story of The Second Crusade.

- Loremaster Ip'Qal