THE END IS NIGH
A Proclamation to All Who Yet Draw Breath
The Church spoke true. The signs are upon us. The world crumbles. The dead walk.
Steel and faith will be your only shelter. Survive the night, if you can.
BY DAY: HONOR AND STEEL
The sun shall rise over a day of valor.
All folk—high and low—are called to don the garb and arms of the 14th century.
Knights and squires, prove your strength in feats of arms.
Men-at-arms, hone your steel and stand ready.
Priests, monks, and nuns, offer prayers—and sharpened sticks if need be.
Lords and ladies, walk with pride before the fall.
Common folk, take what tools you have and hold fast.
An authentic tournament shall unfold—jousts, duels, contests of honor—while the crowd feasts and cheers.
Let there be music, meat, and mirth. Revel while there is light.
BY NIGHT: THE DEAD RISE
As the sun dies, so too does safety.
A fell silence shall settle. And then—shuffling footsteps. The scraping of bone.
The dead will walk.
No more chivalry.
No more rules.
Only survival.
Barricade the doors. Find a weapon—anything you can swing. Hold fast.
Whatever you wore in pride by day, you will fight in by night.
No one is exempt. No one is safe. The portals are open, and something foul comes through.
ALL ARE SUMMONED
Knights. Monks. Nobles. Farmers. Blacksmiths. Tailors.
Sinners and saints alike. We need you all.
Whether you stand as a champion, a witness, or a terrified soul in the dark—your place is here.
Your role will find you.
This is Kingdom Come meets the end of days. This is a tournament for the damned.
By sword, torch, or holy word—stand together, or be dragged down one by one.
The bells will toll. The night will fall. The dead will rise.
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