In the far reaches of a long-lost wilderness, there stands a forgotten town inhabited only by children. Though they appear normal enough, their eyes burn with madness, and they speak in a foreign, archaic tongue. Nearly a millenia ago, a powerful spell had gone awry, or maybe it had succeeded - in any case, it ended up blessing, or cursing, an entire generation of children with agelessness. However, as the centuries passed, the children's parents grew old and died, the buildings of the town crumbled to earth, and even the civilization itself faded into history, becoming lost to time. All that remained were the children, driven mad by the psychological toll of living for hundreds of years beyond their age. In time, most children died, killed off by fighting amongst themselves, while many others were driven to suicide. Only a small handful remain, and they are a strange people indeed.
Except, it doesn't have to be. Nighttime can be a relaxing, peaceful time in the world, when nature rests and soft shadows cover the ground. Not every night has to be filled with vampires, ghosts, beasts, and things jumping out from dark places.
A world based not on light and dark in conflict, but light and dark in balance. A world governed by a giver and a taker, rather than a creator and a destroyer. A world where evil is as much a corruption of light as it is darkness. Conflict arises out of a will to upset the balance.
You realize a group of men is going right to you. The man in front has a hard determined look on his face, the two men behind follow him with some uneasiness. He stops before you, holding the handle of his sword in one hand, and slaps (choose person carefully) with leather gloves he carries in the other hand. "Rhadagald Thinvoice, I challenge You to a duel to dea..." Stopping abruptly, he realizes this is the wrong person.