A Volatile Kingdom

Long ago, when the world of Rathe was untouched by human hands, a great and mighty beast gave life to the land now known as Volcor. Beneath its claws, the ground turned to stone; its gaze gave life to rivers of flame, and with its breath, the very air became dry with the heat of a blazing fire. It carved out a home for itself between the rolling fields and wine-dark sea, decorating the land in its likeness.

For a time, all was still and calm. The beast watched over its territory, basking in the dry heat and sculpting mountain ranges out of solid stone. Yet, one by one, new creatures began to appear on the outskirts of its territory. Strange, soft-skinned little creatures clutching makeshift weapons; so small, so weak, in comparison to the great and mighty beast. It allowed them to creep onto the edges of the land, watching from afar.

With time, the beast grew weary. For millennia, it had wandered Rathe, and spent many eons making its home. The great and mighty beast left the tiny creatures to watch over the land, gifting them its fireblood in return. And then, at last, it found a space in which to nest, curling up and falling into a deep slumber. It is said that the beast sleeps on, encased in rock; its breath fueling the fires of Volcor.