Chapter 4 : The Birthright

Chapter 4
The Birthright


So, here you are. Thrown through time and space thanks to what can only be called a celestial mistake. It is only by the grace of the merest chance that you have arrived at all without being strewn like so much quantum confetti against the wind. So maybe you should feel lucky.

But don't. Life has a way of sparing you one horrid fate only to substitute another. A gangrenous limb is lopped off to prevent death; now you're crippled. The infested crop is burned to save the village; what will you eat? The thief is cut down to protect your home; the pale, worn face of your calamity-addicted brother stares back at you.

Your case is no different. Delivered into the wild of the most dangerous expanse of land this side of the Wastes, you're isolated from home and country and, indeed, the world. Storms fill the seas, great cyclones of cataclysmic mystical energy that tear and strain against the very fabric of the world (this is also probably your fault). Trade or escape is quite impossible. Given what you know about the state of the world, perhaps its best they stay out. You've got enough problems as it is.

From north to south, the land is filled with more diversity (and danger) per square kilometer than anywhere else in the world. You've the lucky privilege to experience the coldest of the Wastes' winters bordered by the most sweltering of Sarkun's jungles, with a healthy sprinkling of volcanic plains. Here you'll find both flora and fauna unknown to anywhere else in the world; I don't place their chances of being friendly very high.

And of course you're not alone. Ancient tribes, three in total, divide great swaths of the land between them, engaged in constant conflict, each wielding knowledge of the arcane that no tribe ought to. They've competed for the greater part of the last eon over land that each proclaims rightfully theirs; one must wonder how they'll react to your claim(Not very well). And beneath the stone murmurs the remnants of a civilization that once ruled the land, a people that, perhaps, advanced the art of magic beyond any people that exist today.

Fortunately, (Unfortunately?) the storms won't be able to keep out everyone, and you'll soon find a world committed to tearing itself apart on your doorstep. And, for some reason, they'd very much like control of this slab of rock you've resentfully learned to call home. Perhaps it has something to do with the incredible fertility of the land, the vast stores of mundane and mystical metals unparalleled anywhere in the world, or the vast labyrinthine ruins of an empire long crumbled. Everyone wants this place, and few will be able to stay neutral for long.

Well, life is hard, no doubt about it. It seems that you've been dealt the second worst hand in the entire deck. But maybe there's something worth all this blood, sweat, and tears. Maybe, beneath the stone, soil, and memories of a world before, there exists something worth the struggle. Something with the power to change the world.

Welcome to Ara'ki, newborn Arena of the World. Enjoy.