Long before the rise of the great empire of modern times, when the world was young and gods walked among mortals, there was Mycenae. Legend holds that the mighty Heracles, son of Zeus, weary from his labors, sought a place of peace. Upon a fertile plain, nestled amidst craggy peaks, he founded a city, a haven for the firstborn of humankind. This city, named Mycenae, became the cradle of our humanity, a beacon of civilization in a wild and untamed world.

For generations, the people of Mycenae flourished. Their strength and ingenuity, a reflection of their divine founder, allowed them to tame the land and build a society of remarkable advancements. They were masters of stonework, their citadels reaching for the heavens, and their artisans crafted wonders that rivaled the works of the gods themselves.

However, as "Empire" began to rise, jealous eyes turned towards Mycenae. The whispers of its wealth and power spread like wildfire, and the city found itself surrounded by threats. The gods, witnessing the peril of their favored children, intervened. Not with armies or divine wrath, but with a veil of illusion and enchantment.

Mycenae was hidden, plucked from the maps of the world, and shrouded in a magical mist. The city remained, but its location became a mystery, known only to the gods themselves. To prevent the people of Mycenae from stagnating, and to keep them strong, the gods left a challenge: the surrounding lands, once bountiful, became infested with monstrous creatures, tests of their resilience.

For centuries, Mycenae has existed in isolation, its people locked in a perpetual struggle against the horrors that surround them. They are a people of warriors and artisans, their culture shaped by hardship and the constant need to defend their home. The blood of Heracles remains strong in its peoples, but they live a strange protected life.