In a cataclysm known as the Nightfall, the worlds were almost completely destroyed by a harrowing surge of darkness.
In the shadows of the ensuing chaos a new group has taken shape. Led by an Aegyl named Kalos, the 11th Hour touts an esoteric knowledge of how to combat the darkness and restore the worlds. They might be the worlds’ best chance at survival; but nobody really knows enough about them to confirm or deny their claims.
On the brink of collapse, the universe holds its breath in anticipation. Of restoration? Of destruction? It is up to individuals like yourself to decide.
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There aren't enough praises in the world I'd like to give to wonderful coders for the Proboards community. The following have contributed to World Destiny in some way: W3 Schools for countless how-tos and countless of other souls who have helped get WD up to where it is.
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Only ten minutes until 3 a.m. were to welcome itself onto the night. The wind was gentle, just enough to cool the body on a warm night. Marxs scratched his head as he peered into the black sky, lit up by the stars.
"Another day, another empty motive. Why do I persist on living. I have nothing to really live for..." He thought.
His weight was shifted as he stared down onto the streets from the rooftop of the building he had been occupying that particular night.
"Where is the keyblade I once bore. Why did it leave? I can feel it, but I can't call it. Maybe I should persist on finding it for the time being," he uttered under his breath.
This was true. He once wielded a keyblade. Not only did he wield it, he was unmatched in battle with it. Marxs once sought out the most famous of all keyblade wielders in hopes of a competition, but for some reason his ability to summon the keyblade had all but left him. The only reason he could think of... well, there was none.
Someone must know.
"I'm bored. This town is too quiet for such a great hour of the night. Someone must be around to quench my thirst for entertainment."
