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The first thing you notice about the rowan tree is that it does not belong. Twisted, ancient, timeless, and you're sure that it wasn't standing there just a moment ago. It seems to radiate energy, so much life for such a dead looking tree, and whether you listen to the warning voice in your mind, whether you approach for a closer look, or attempt to run away, it will suck you in.

The life you knew is gone.

The only familiar thing is the tree you've just fallen through, the tree that crossed the boundary between worlds to bring you here. You're naked, disoriented, and cold.

Welcome to Rowan.

You've arrived in Jhelbor, the one spot of neutrality in a land at war, where three races fight for control of a bounded world.

First there are the demons. Chaotic, cheerful and fad-obsessed beings that live life to its fullest in every aspect. They embrace personal freedom, and the freedom of the market; they consider everyone equal.

Then the elves, ethereally beautiful creatures, long-lived and secretive, devoted to the care of life and the pursuit of perfection but dismissive of the cause of freedom.

Then the humans, eternally stuck in the middle, geographically, biologically and philosophically.

These three races cannot coexist. Not in a world as small as this one. They exist in a fragile balance, where the slightest change in any side could lead to crushing victory, or utter defeat.

But things are not as simple as they seem. While war distracts the inhabitants of Rowan, a different sort of energy is moving through the land, the slightest stirring after thousands of years laying dormant.

You are drawn here, worldwalker, against your will.

How is it that you'll change things?

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