A region once in tune with all the Great Powers. Wars bloodlust had been sated, famine had taken its fill, illness was in remission. Harmony reigned supreme.
Balance though, once lost, is a difficult thing to reclaim. A Beast born of embers defiled the skies with ashen wings its cries terrorizing the people of the Land. This was the long-slumbering Liengrum, The Last Dragon, whose hunger had grown over centuries of hibernation but was outclassed by his rage (upon finding no others of his kind alive). Liengrum laid waste to the countryside, leaving next-to nothing in his wake. Cattle were plundered, treasuries emptied, sacrifices ignored- nothing could stop the rampaging creature.
The King of Airedale sent word throughout the land, calling for a hero to step forward, to slay the Beast, to save what remained of the land. The Elves ignored him, as did the Shantymen of the South. Even the KulAmati (fierce though they were) sent no assistance. Only a single soul stepped forward, right from under the Kings thumb. An apprentice blacksmith, a wiry lad of no more than 16 years, was sent to slay Liengrum.
For days the boy tracked the Dragon, but that bled on into weeks, then months. In the winter of the following year, the boy finally found the Beasts lair: The Mound. By this time the boy had grown in many ways, the greatest of which his skill with the bow. As the Beast took flight from its nest, it spotted its newest prey served straight to its home, and circled in the sky- ready to dive into its next tasty morsel.
It was with that thought in his mind that the Beast died, pierced by an arrow made from its own scales through its heart.
A silence was heard then, throughout the Realm. The Dragon was Dead. Cheers shouldve erupted from the masses, but another feeling had come over them, one of great dread.
The Mound, long-laid dormant, suddenly erupted. Liengrum was consumed by the flames & carried down into its depths, but across the land something else stirred. You see, the Dragon was an embodiment of both the Element of Fire and one of the most powerfully concentrated forces of Magic in the land. The defeat of the Dragon left a hole in what should have been a balanced world. As opposing Forces attempted to fill the void, the land underwent violent changes. Tides flooded the coasts, and subsequently dried up, forests grew heavy with all manor of strange sights, mountains crumbled.... Perhaps the worst of all though was what we now call the Rising, when the Dead began to come back to life.
It is with these horrors in mind that I tell you this tale. Our so-called Hero has failed us, bringing more pain than we ever thought possible. Even now, he refuses to reveal himself to us, or make any attempt to right the wrongs he caused. Will you, adventurer from beyond our shores, take up the task of saving our home? Will you become a true Hero of Eltora?