In the breath of life there came creation elemental or carnal in nature. Life sprung up out of every crack and crevice of the ground, from every cavern and hilltop and forest and distant mountain peak.
The first to awaken were Dragonkind, creatures akin to an elemental spirit: wind, fire, water, terra. They were as wild as the world itself, untethered and unbound.
Of the four races of carnal men, first born were the dwarves, the Uldun as they called themselves. Men of iron, they were the densest and hardiest of all men and lived beneath the mountains. They were the builders, the masons, the architects and the engineers. The helpers of the mighty hand that shaped Karobos.
With them there felt a need for servants of order, to be both warden and steward. The golems were shaped, elemental beings able to coerce wood and stone. They were servants to the builders until their work was done, and then let free to have charge of lands and waters, which they tended to. Golems were the keepers of legend, the scribes before pen and ink, and the knowers of things. They beheld the order of life and respected it. Their memory and counsel helped shape Karobos.
From the old knowledge, creation struck an accord, and all magickind followed. Beasts of great multitude flourished both on land and in the sea.
More races of men rose from the north to prosper in the wilderness. Next were the Auldur, the men of stone. These were the tribesmen who dwelled among the mountain passes. The herdsmen, the hunters, the remote valley sages.
With them came also the Altaire, the Giant men, men of the sky. Old kings of mountain peaks. Their kingdoms were rich among the clouds, and they possessed much knowledge of the arcane.
Last of mankind came the Alemana. The mud men, the men of clay. From them sprouted cities set among the plains and meadows, on hills and next to rivers, sprawling into vast kingdoms across the lowlands in the south.
And so creation lived peaceably in a time before memory. Knowledge passed freely and trade flourished, particularly among the lowland kingdoms of the Alemana whose kings forged strong alliances spanning many generations and bloodlines. That was until their reach grew long and their appetite more sinister. The men of clay became ornery and selfish. They took much from the land and began to venture far from their borders into places where old things resided.
The lowland men began to hunger for more knowledge, uncovering more secrets. The boldest of them them took to hunting magickind, the fae and the troll and the sapling of the forest. Their great heroes even boasted of defeating the smallest of dragons. They expanded the possibilities of magical and alchemical arts. In their eyes, there was still peace among themselves. All else of creation became a resource for them to harvest in their ambition to reach beyond their means.
Their loremasters and mages delved into forbidden practices, things beyond the ability reserved for mortal men. They hungered for an art that could make them something more, a rite to transmute their spirit and transfigure their carnal bodies.
Such perverse magic was an abomination to older creation. It was just one of many reasons to hate the Alemana. The elder dragon terra dragon Vershar became particularly bitter. Even so, some pronounced tolerance. A rift was sewn into magickind.
In time, humanity continued to overstep its bounds, seeking newer power, and what conflict there had been erupted into what became known as the Dragon War. Magickind was pitted against itself, creating a great upheaval, the consequences of which created a catastrophe so great that its conclusion altered the very nature of creation.
In it, Vershar and the Golem Saen expended the last of their strength in an effort to consume the kingdoms of the Alemana in fire and sand. This was to be the final judgment.
Vershar made war against Balsuun upon his throne, the elder fire dragon of the great volcano. In their struggle, they tore a hole into the side of the volcano and from it lava spread for many miles. Yet Vershar was unable to fulfill his plan, and Balsuun smote him on the steppes of the mountains with help from some of the Altaire who had denounced themselves from the Mad Giant King Slaine, bringing much to ruin. Balsuun succumbed to his wounds as well, and the volcano that was his throne stood forever fractured.
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In the wake of the battle, the golem Saen went ahead with his own plan. For many generations of men he learned to master erosion, and with it he took the rubble and wore down mountains until they were piles of sand. With this, he created a vortex that swept across the kingdoms of the lowland men, burying them in sand.
Balsuun’s throne eventually collapsed, creating a great caldera. It became a place of omen and magical concentration. Some say Vershar’s last words still echo in the pit of it, for the great dragon’s remains were forever entombed close by.
Every so often, a traveler who walks through may find evidence of a great dragon buried there. A scale, a splintered fang. And so it became known as the Scales of Vershar, a place where the stone was warped and jagged, where the ground was hot as dragon’s breath. Few who found it came back the same.
The damage done from the Dragon War was irreparable. The lowland kingdoms of men were destroyed and covered in an ocean of sand. What survivors there were fled to neighboring lands, either to the dry northern plains or to the sea to escape the brutal desert that covered their homes. That place became known as the Buried. Yet, men came to know little of what truly lay beneath.
What old knowledge there was seemed to vanish. Only a few men who hungered for power, however the means, uncovered some of the lost arts. They made their home near the great caldera, which they called the Grand Cauldron. Generations of men dwelled there, and their doings darkened the nature of the land around them. Clouds blotted out the sun, rumbling with a constant thunder. Mists poured into the region, which hid them in that place. It became known as the Haul of Bones, for all manner of death lingered there.
The rest of creation clung to its survival. Dwarves were ousted from their homes underground, and very few were left to remember the grief of it. The Mad Giant King Slaine, who was an ally to Vershar, made war against the Auldur folk of the mountains. The conflict became long and bloody, and reason for its origin has seeped beyond the memory of either side. Its remnant is the only remaining symptoms of the Dragon War. All else has been simply changed.
Creation was deeply scarred and old things began to pass away. Magickind shrunk back from the land. And with time humanity forgot.
Kings were replaced with warlords whose greed was great, and from it there came a need to rule the Buried. The solution was to construct a city, a construct in itself made entirely of metal, able to traverse the sands. It took nearly fifty years to complete the construction of Colossadune.
At last, civilization had been reborn. Trade commenced. A council of government was formed to oversee the most vital industries of this new age: metallurgy, alchemy, magical arts and of course the engine of war.
From Colossadune, the Baron Council ruled. Many men and women held station in the council thereafter, either through succession or betrayal. They ruled with a cruel malice until all humanity across all lands knew the fear of the iron citadel, the golden scarab.
The council ruled from their tower in the center of the city topped with a dome gilded with gold that glinted across the sands like a mirage, beguiling thirsty travelers into thinking it was a place worth seeking. In reality, Colossadune’s greatest commodity were its slaves, of which no one was truly exempt. You either ruled, or were ruled over.
The only freedom from Colossadune was in the sea, where the city could not cross or its servants quickly access. These free men, they called themselves, sailed far and wide to remote islands among the Myriad Isles. They soon discovered there were more original peoples living there. Loose alliances were made, but mostly the violent nature of survival took hold there, too. Men who captained ships became wealthy in their own right, and held their own fame.
The largest port on the eastern coast became the only trustworthy place to access the main land. In an effort to keep it secure, separate from the desert, they built it in the mouth of a huge cavern that touched the sea. In time, Colossadune discovered its existence and attempted to exercise control over it. Several wars were fought between Colossadune and the free men. But, unless Colossadune planted itself within distance to assault the port and exercise constant discretion over it, the free men always ousted them from their territory.
But there was much wealth to be found among the Myriad Isles. So to negate further unnecessary bloodshed and encourage the flow of wealth, Colossadune brokered peace with the free men. The port became known as Parley, and the shallow waters that kissed its beaches became known as Scarred Truce bay to remind men to consider peace among themselves when they entered that place.
This peace was uneasy, but continued to be fostered by future generations of rich men and their constant flow of coin. So long as money traded hands and disputes were kept person to person, humanity remained content enough to let things be.
Picaro was born into this world, and without knowing it, changed it forever, traversing both land and sea, and the knowledge of time to uncover things long forgotten.