The Disciples of Iron Fist are led by a fallen Shaolin master named Jun Weiming, who is said to have turned his back on all things noble to serve some mysterious dark master. Some say he has since become enlightened, and has left his dark master behind, perhaps slaying him, perhaps not. Jun Weiming formalized his clan to unite all nonaffiliated rogue disciples under a single banner, and freely shared his martial arts knowledge with them. These disciples have all brought various high-level Kung Fu and Chi Kung techniques to the clan that they freely share, creating a deadly range of martial arts for new disciples to train. The deadliest among them are Jun Weiming’s Iron Fist techniques. Those that have joined him keep the clan’s secrets well protected.

So there you have it: four white clans and four black clans, set in contention with each other by The Imperial Emperor. Naturally, skirmishes occurred and alliances were commonly made and broken, typically without major effect to The Land or those commoners who dwelled within it.

Until…
One day a new clan revealed itself, arising seemingly overnight. A clan that was foreign to The Land. This was the Black Dragon Clan, of which little is known, led by a man called The Thunder Emperor. This mysterious warlord sent a decree, written in blood, to each of the major clans, advising them that soon he would control The Land itself and all those who dwelled within it. The message also contained certain pieces of secret information particular to each clan, information that each of the clans’ elders knew to be deadly serious, as each declared moral imperatives for all out war to be waged between the White and Black clans. No sooner had the messages been delivered than the messengers themselves burst into flames, revealing themselves as unearthly golems.

Thus, The War of Nine Dragons was truly ignited.

For ten long, hard years The War raged, spreading pestilence, plague, famine and death throughout The Land. Disharmony touched the life of every man, woman and child, and it became devastatingly clear that no matter who won The War, The Land itself might never recover its vitality. The skies opened and the heavens wept for the common people. A prayer could be found on every set of lips, to gods known, and gods secret, to end The War.

Here now, my throat is passing dry. Let’s have that bottle again… Ahh… now where was I? Oh, yes…