Dorlan is the central region of Alandavor, the known world. It is the main home of humans and is divided into three kingdoms. Separated by extensive mountain ranges from one another, each of these domains also has unique ethnic, cultural, and geographic characteristics.Peace has long prevailed in the region, with good commercial and diplomatic relations between the kingdoms of Doknar and Trabarioth, and a somewhat more fragile relationship with the eastern kingdom of Elbarie. The northern region of Rimdail is in a permanent state of civil war, causing refugees from the north to constantly arrive in search of new lands or asylum.Despite these issues, the main threat comes from the west, originating from the region of Bloodmere, home to orcs, goblins, and straggling humans from different cultures. The dark region’s attempts to seize Dorlan led to the Great Invasion led by the green skins over five hundred years ago, in which they were expelled by the defenders who established Doknar a

“…Dragons are wise, boy—far wiser than you or I, or even both of us together. The Order of Dragma hunted them for many years, and some believe they wiped them out completely. Others, who also believe in their wisdom, claim that the dragons learned to take another form and that today, at least some of them walk upright among humans. The truth is, something has happened—because every so often, once in a great while, you hear of dragons again. And if you're lucky, you might even see one…”—Arcalom the Archdruid.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The knight was at Wolf’s Pass, approaching the city of Doknar. The sunset had just begun to cast its orange beams through the few clouds that crossed the sky. An evening breeze stirred the rider’s blond hair and made the brown cloak—draped over the white robes of his order—flutter gently.Just before reaching the gate, he stopped the horse with a simple click of his ton

That night came with a heavy storm, bringing with it the dissonant melody of thunder, preceded by lightning strikes that wrote a song of terror and sorrow—especially for those without shelter. The knight and his companion were finishing their preparations to head west, toward the region of Hobbaristal and the coast of the Ederia Sea.Kalen ‘Fal had told Galfrido about the mission. The latter listened to the part about the prophecy with mild disinterest—perhaps because Kalen himself didn’t seem fully convinced by the tale. Later, they agreed to depart the next day, with the blessing of the master, Sir Rhien Mildavar.Before dawn, they loaded the saddlebags onto their horses, assisted by an initiate named Alain. Kalen had to retrieve his chainmail first, which, fortunately, Brother Weylam had finished along with his dagger. Although the storm had calmed, a drizzle still lingered, chilling them to the bone and serving as a reminder of winter’s approach in the region. By the time the sun

The elf, sitting at the edge of a cliff, gazed out toward the distant horizon. The sky was clear, revealing the “Fireflies of Mistilanya” scattered across the firmament, with a smiling moon overhead. She was carving the figure of an archer into a piece of wood. Her purple—almost pink—hair danced in the early morning breeze, occasionally crossing her tanned face, which bore blue tattoos.Behind her, the vast forest of Amralas stretched on for miles and miles, by far the largest in the region of Núvodas. It had enjoyed a long period of peace, lasting at least several years. She relished not having to take part in the hunts or battles in the realm of men.Despite being a half-breed—half wood elf and half sea elf, which had earned her some distrust among her people, she felt at home. She looked at the freshly carved image of the archer and smiled, pleased to see that her skillful hands remained as steady as ever. That kind of craft was second nature to all elves, but she knew when to make

She saw the glow of the fire in the distance. It might fool anyone else, but not a hunter of her skill. Still, she had to be extremely cautious—they were at least a day and a half ahead. The night was well advanced, but the sky was veiled in a thick layer of clouds. Lightning flashed in the distance, the thunder still somewhat timid in sound.She leaned against a rock and tightened the bandages around her leg and arm, still marked with fresh blood. The battle had been brutal, and though they had been defeated, she had made it out alive. She sighed, forced herself to stand, and resumed walking with care. There would be no rest—not if she wanted to catch up.The Dragon Knight, Nurbanduur, was with them. The child of prophecy. The last to be born. The one who could open the gates of the Abyss with his power… so close.The mountains to her left disappeared into the low-hanging clouds, and the terrain grew more rugged as it sloped upward toward the hillside. However, as long as she stayed