It was twenty five years since the Zhong first came. Before then the only thing that seperated the Zhong from any number of other legendary lands that were east of the Great Mountains and the Northern wastes was that of fine silk that rivaled that of the finish Elven weavers and a few artifacts (mostly ceramics and laquerware, but occasionally some clever little mechanical device) which had been ferried overland by series of convoys and the rare explorer, driven by burning desires to see what lay beyond and was willing to face Cold mountains, burning deserts and the various peoples and beasts that inhabited both of them or risk crossing seas which was home to pirate hoards on it's surface and other foul things below. Exact details about the lands of the Zhong varried massively, but most of them spoke of a great and vast human empire that had split into several warring states, each claiming that it was the legitimate sucssesor to the former Empire that waged war with each other to reclaim the lost Jade throne.
This element of the stories also proved to be the most true, at least until thirty seven years ago when the the armies of lord Zhao managed to sucseed where a thousand other ambitious claiments had failed to and reunited the Zhong under one banner. But his thirst for power was not satiated in the re-unification. After seven years of consolidation he sent forth scouting missions and ordered a vast fleet be constructed. At first a few sightings of strange "burning Ships" were seen off the coast in smoke clouds, then odd "merchants" appeared in unusual wooded vessels called "Junks" selling ceramics, trinkets and textiles while buying maps and making conections. Then, a thousand ships with iron hulls powered by burning steel hearts came, carrying cannons that made those mounted on Human, Elvish, Orcish and Dwarven craft look like firecrackers. The heavily armored predators of this armada forced dozens of port cities to surrender with threats of destruction through bombardment while large troopships unloaded tens of thousands of armored riflemen backed up by forces of Geomancers able to shape the local topography to suit their needs, Steam powered walking Machines, Elite women warriors with command of devestating solar magic, savage tiger men, flying tengu, animated statues intrusted to guard the remains of fallen officers that are brought into the fray and clockwork mechanical men commanded by the souls of fallen warriors. These armies had but one goal, to subjugate the lands of the Barbarians for the glory of their Emperor.
With this invasion, the Human and Elven kingdoms, the Dark Elvish Lordships, the Dwarven Realms and even the Dark Lands of the Orcs and their kin and the various catagories of Undead gradually banded together to resist this onslaught. Erlathan was a member of an Elite Ranger Cadre send against the Zhong Agressor and fought in the great battle of Gauntlet Valley to hault a Zhong Army moving towards the capital of the Kingdom of Dellmoore six months after the invasions began. In battle he saw how devestating the refined combat magics and machines could be. Even with the aid of Wyrmriders, several battle mages of notable strength, Dwarven runic artillery, Fearless Zombie infantry and brave human knights the battle was lost and the army routed. His cadre fell back into the surround forest to wage a guerilla campaign, only to suffer several bullet wounds several months in. Without a healer and not wanting to hinder his cadre in their efforts he made his way into the former capital of Dellmoore to keep an eye on what was going on.
As Erlathan moved about the city and took notes, he watched as the population of the city swelled as settlers from the lands of Zhong came in and as families of farmers were uncerimoniously uprooted as more and more of them became redundant to mechnization. His finely tuned skills as a woodsman he found had become completely useless in city and he moved from one drudging unskilled job to another, each mindlessly repetitive, taking up most of the day and paying very little. Eventually he turned more and more to begging which allowed him to observe things on the street more easily. He watched as the city itself was taken apart and rebuilt, new laws were put into effect demanding new buildings be built in Zhong style architecture, a newly established set education programs and schools replaced phonetic writing with Zhongian calligraphy and as dress codes for various buildings and clothing stores replaced the local cloaths with fashions from the other side of the world. Even the local minority of dwarves began embracing these foreign ways while he kept his own clothing, partially out of pride, partially out of being unable to afford replacements. One day he lost connection with his Cadre, he did not know why, whether they were killed or captured or if they had written him off as dead or now useless. As that happened, he began to slip into alcoholism. He read the propaganda of ongoing campaigns, but dismissed most of it. Now he spends his days in the streets with his old helmet collecting the odd coin, occasionally writing notes in cheap notebooks using second hand pencils. Every night, he looses himself in cheap liquor before drifting off to sleep while arround him things and people become increasingly different. As he curls up in dark alleys, he dreams of his small cottage deep in Silven forests, his family and a simple life that he had come to love. These dreams are sometimes twisted by his mind into nightmares where that home he loved so much is destroyed under foot of a steam walker and everything he loved about his home is reshaped by the Zhong.
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