Life sprung up out of every crack and crevice of the ground, from every cavern and hilltop and forest and distant mountain peak: all manner of growing things, some that possessed speech and others that did not find the need for it, creation either elemental or carnal in nature.

  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. Entirely magical, yet entirely animals of tooth and scale.

  Of the four races of carnal men, first born were the dwarves, the Uldun. 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, the engineers. The helpers of the mighty hand that shaped the bones of Karobos. With them there was a need for servants of order, to be both warden and steward of the natural realm.

  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 had struck an accord and all manner magickind followed. Beasts of great multitude flourished both on land and in the sea.

  More races of carnal men rose from the north to prosper in the wilderness. Next were the Uldur, 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 Altair, the Giant men, men of the sky. Old kings of mountain peaks, their thrones set amongst the clouds. They possessed much knowledge of the arcane.

  Last of mankind came the Almana. The mud men, the men of clay. Men of coin and trade. From them sprouted cities set amongst plains and meadows, on hilltops and next to rivers, sprawling into vast kingdoms across the lowlands of 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 Almana whose kings forged strong alliances spanning many generations and bloodlines. That was until their reach grew too long and their appetites more sinister. The men of clay became ornery and selfish. They took too much from the land and began to venture far from their borders into places where old things resided. The Almana 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 ever boasted of defeating the smallest of dragons. They expanded the possibilities of magical and alchemical arts. In their eyes, there was still peace amongst 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 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 Almana. The elder terra dragon Vershar became particularly bitter. Yet some pronounced tolerance.

  A rift was being sewn into magickind.

  As humanity continued to overstep its bounds seeking newer power, what conflict there had been finally erupted into what became known as the Dragon War. Magickind was pitted against itself creating a great upheaval, the consequences of which were so great that its conclusion altered the very nature of creation.

  In it Vershar and the Golem Saen expended the last of their strength to consume the kingdoms of the Almana in fire and sand. This was to be their final judgment.

  Vershar made war against Bal'suun upon his volcanic throne, where the elder fire dragon defended the volcano against the hulking aggressor. In their struggle, they tore a great hole into the volcano's side and lava spread from the wound for many miles. Yet Vershar was unable to fulfill his plan, for Balsuun smote him on the steppes of the mountains with help from some of the Altair who had denounced themselves from the Mad Giant King Skanaar, bringing much to ruin. Bal'suun eventually 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 man he had learned how to master erosion, and he wore down the mountains and created a cataclysmic sand storm that buried the lowland kingdoms of the Almana.

  Bal'suun'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 closeby. 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 forever 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 western plains, to boggy southern swamps or to the eastern sea to escape the brutal desert that had devoured their homes. That place became known among men as the Buried. Yet, few remember what truly lay buried there.

  What old knowledge there was seemed to vanish. Only a few men who hungered for power however the means uncovered a fragment of the lost arts. Some 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 and hid them in that place barren 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 Skanaar was an ally to Vershar, and continued make war against the Uldur folk of the mountains until his own death nearly a century later. The conflict lingered long and bloody until it seemed the knowledge of its origin seeped from the memory of either side. Its remnant is the only remaining conflict directly linked to 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 just sa great, and from them there came a shared desire to rule the Buried. The solution was to construct a city that could traverse the sands. It took nearly fifty years to complete the construction of Colossadune. A city spanning nearly three square miles, a moving monstrosity of metal that required no camels to pull itself across the desert, instead processing sand through its underbelly to take the place of the dunes themselves.

  At last, civilization had been reborn. Trade recommenced with earnest. A council of government was formed, four figureheads to oversee the most vital industries of this new age: metallurgy, alchemy, magical arts, and the engine of war.

  From Colossadune the Baron Council ruled. Many men and women have held station in the council thereafter, either through succession or betrayal, ruling with a cruel malice until all humanity across all lands knew the fear of the iron citadel, the golden scarab, the city of slaves. The council rule from their tower in the center of the city, its top a dome gilded with gold that glints across the sands like a mirage, beguiling thirsty travelers into thinking it is a place worth seeking. In reality, Colossadune's greatest commodity is its slaves, of which no one is truly exempt. You either rule, or are ruled over.

  The only freedom from Colossadune was in the sea where the city could not cross nor its servants quickly access. These Free Men, they called themselves, began to sail far and wide to remote islands among the Myriad Isles. They soon discovered there were more original peoples already living there. Loose alliances were made but mostly the violent nature of survival took hold there, too. Men who captained ships could become wealthy in their own right and hold their own fame, for the price of blood and pearls.

  The largest port on the eastern coast became the only trustworthy place to access the main land. In an effort to keep it secure and separate from the desert, they built a new city 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 Colossadune could not plant itself within distance to lay siege to the port city and forever exercise constant control over it, for the Free Men could take to the sea and lay their own ambushes, and they were more patient than the Baron Council. With time, 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 whenever they entered that place.

  Yet this peace was uneasy, fostered only by future generations of rich men and their desire for the constant flow of coin. Those in power made sure money traded hands and disputes were kept person to person, and so people seemed 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.