The sun was setting over the rolling hills of Eridoria, casting a warm orange glow over the landscape. In the distance, a small village lay nestled in the valley below. This was the village of Brindlemark, home to Lyra, the warrior-mage.
Lyra stood atop the hill, her long hair flowing in the gentle breeze. She gazed out at the horizon, her eyes narrowed in concentration. She could feel it – the darkness stirring, growing stronger by the day.
Suddenly, a figure appeared beside her. It was Arin, the thief.
"Lyra, we've received word from the council," Arin said, his voice low and urgent. "The prophecy is coming to pass. The darkness is rising, and we need to gather the hundred heroes."
Lyra's eyes snapped to Arin's, her grip on her staff tightening. "Then let's get started. We have a world to save."
The scene shifts to Eira, the noble knight, standing in the great hall of her castle. She's surrounded by the other heroes, each one arriving in response to the council's summons.
"I don't know what this is about," Eira says, addressing the group, "but I assure you, it is of the utmost importance."
The heroes nod, their faces set with determination. They know that something big is coming, and they're ready to face it head-on.