By Amnhatep the Wise

When recounting the tales of old, there are several truths one must always keep in mind. First: history is shaped by the hands of its victors—their parchments inked with pride, omission, and ambition. And second: try as we might to tame it, history is an elusive mirror, a thing that reflects not the past itself, but the world we now inhabit. To presume one knows history is to utter the words of a simpleton.

Still, I shall do my best to grasp at the frayed edges of time. If I am to begin anywhere, it may as well be at what we believe to be the beginning.

We call it the Elder Age, a time when the beings we name the Elders—half-gods of unimaginable power—reigned supreme. From their design came the first sapient civilizations, ancestors of the Rin peoples, though they were not alone. Other races—centaurs, kitsune, trolls, and many others—were also brought forth into this world, shaped by design or divine whim. With their great might, the Elders also wrought the Arcanum: an eternal tome of knowledge, the cornerstone of what we now call Arcana—or, more plainly, magic. You are likely unfamiliar with Arcana, novice, but rest assured: you will learn. For now, know this—mana, the lifeblood of magic, is ever-present in our world of Calad.

The Elders, in their hubris, came to see themselves as gods. And like all gods, they desired to be all-knowing. They sought to fill the Arcanum with every secret of creation, even those not meant for mortal—or immortal—minds. Their travels spanned planes of existence, but in doing so they encountered anomalies that shattered reason, twisting their thoughts into unrecognizable hungers. Their final folly was the opening of a great gate at the world’s center, believing it to hold the truth behind all things. But what poured forth from that gate was no enlightenment—only darkness.

A foul miasma spilled into our world, and with it came horrors that defied the laws of flesh and sanity. The Elders, unable to contain what they had unleashed, were themselves corrupted—some say they vanished, others that they were consumed. In the telling of the Rin, it is said the Elders still exist—unseen, forgotten, or sealed away beyond the veil of time.

And so, civilization was left to fend for itself. The miasma was poison. It blotted the sun, withered the land, and cast all things into what seemed an eternal night. Refuge became the only pursuit. Cultures fled to hidden sanctuaries, abandoning the old world to rot beneath snow and shadow. This era, bleak and near-terminal, is remembered as the Age of Dusk—when the world nearly died.

Yet even then, life found a way. The Rin tribes, who bore the most enduring legacies, fractured and scattered, carving out survivable niches across Calad. But the moment reprieve came, fate struck again. As the darkness at last began to wane, a new threat emerged—an invasion, one not born of our world.

Their arrival was swift. They called themselves Men, and they came not in peace, but with fire and fury. Bereft of pointed ears, unlike the Rin, these invaders sailed vast vessels and claimed divine justification for their warpath. They saw all things as prey, proclaiming it their sacred task to slay and conquer. Thus began the Crimson Ages, a time of blood-soaked centuries.

Some claimed the Men had tamed the miasma, even accused us of causing it. I know not the truth of this claim. But something in this world had stirred their wrath.

The peoples of Calad resisted, valiantly. And though the war raged for generations, it did not rage forever. Over time, the tide shifted. Disillusionment spread among the foreign colonies. The northern settlements of the Men began to rebel. Inner conflict fractured their ranks, and in time, half turned against the other. The native Rin, seizing the opportunity, forged an alliance with the dissenting colonials.

Together, they pushed the invaders back—through the great gate, which they then sealed, deep at the heart of the world.

The World as It Now Stands

Today, Calad is shaped by four great factions, the heirs of these trials and wars.

In the north, from the ashes of the foreign colonies, rose the Empire of Soga—a realm of iron discipline and ancient feudal order.

To the east, on the searing volcanic lands of Thenion, the Coalition thrives—fierce, cunning, and forged in darkness.

Southward lies the Helian League, radiant and storied, whose people seek to restore balance and enlightenment to a world still haunted by ruin.

And in the great western dunes, rise the enigmatic and prosperous Sand Kingdoms—mighty, arcane, and of uncertain origin. Though largely composed of Men, their connection to the original invaders remains a mystery lost to time.

In the wake of the post-war treaties, peace is now tenuously held. Trade flows, and relations remain cordial, yet beneath the surface, conflict simmers. Memories of blood and conquest run deep. Skirmishes break out between and within factions, for Calad is a world rich in ancient remnants, terrible secrets, and powerful relics. And wherever such things exist, so too do motives for war.

So then, novice—what is your purpose in this world? What legacy will you carve in the stone of history?