The Age of Creation
In the silent starry void there was only Laurelin.
A being mere mortals would classify as a Goddess, she had blonde hair that was, somehow, also silver and sparkled like the void through which she traveled. Her garment, such as it was, also blended well with her surroundings, deep blue and cascading with stars, it was a gift she wore to protect her from the cold darkness of the void, on her long journey. She sought something new, in the vastness of space untouched by other Divine hands or darker powers. Something she could call her own. Something far from any other disturbances in the cluttered Multiverse. Something...unique.
Time has little meaning to a being like her, but it still passes, and much of it flowed past as the Multiverse continued to turn and churn beyond her sight, but she did not look back. She had a promise to keep. Eventually, in that massive black void of swirling stars, not far from the expanding edges of the known Multiverse, she came upon a sphere of black stone and earth, alone, listless in the vast empty vacuum. A planetoid of considerable size, far flung from whatever star system it had formed from uncountable millennia in the past, it was vast, cold, ancient, and empty. Laurelin's beauteous visage finally turned up in a smile.
It was free real estate.
"Galdurath."
She spoke but a single word, a single sound that should not have been able to exist in the vacuum of space, let alone travel through it, and yet, it did so. For there was one dear to her who had now waited quite a long time to hear her voice.
He appeared as a Wizard stereotype made manifest in a flash of divine magical power, with arcane prowess few Gods could claim to match or equal. Where her skin was glowing golden and pale, his was shifting shades of blue. Where her garment was simple and flowing, his own was a leftover of his mortal beginnings, an Artifact enhanced by his own hand, possessing great and useful magic, which manifested as finely tailored blue robes with golden trim and shifting arcane patterns imbued into the now divinely enhanced weave. Their communication with one another had long transcended words, and thus she understood just how long she had taken. How much he had missed her presence, and how sorry she was for taking so very long. Time had little meaning to them, but it had still passed, and now finally the long wait was over. They embraced in the void above their chosen planet in the middle of nowhere, and took a moment to simply enjoy each other's presence. In mortal measures of time, Laurelin held onto her husband for days, but being what they were, and where they were, time might as well have not existed.
Before things could turn lewd or romantic, they descended to the mass of rock and stone she had discovered, and Galdurath found it to be suitable for their plans. Into the long-frozen core of the ancient planet, he placed the relic he had spent much of their time apart crafting, though he had long since perfected it. Mortal minds might have dubbed it a Genesis Engine, but Godly minds worked differently. They did not seek to constantly assign names to things, the relic was simply a tool, a device which reignited the planetary core, and began filling it with Magic.
Like a master weaver with a loom, Galdurath began to shine with bright blue aura as he wove lines of magic power around their new home. Divine magical energy which he had long since pumped into the device was now spent in creating an atmosphere, and beyond that, a magical shield that would protect their burgeoning world from the random ravages of space, powered forever by the relic that would continue to function, so long as they were both present. Being classifiable as Gods, eternity was theirs to do with as they pleased, and here, on this nameless chunk of rock and dirt catapulted into the far reaches of the cosmos from the dawn of Everything, they would make their permanent home. Far from any who would interfere, or so they believed. No meteors would impact their home, no alien species on star treks would find them, their world would be safe, hidden, and sequestered in solitude, free to grow and develop with their guidance as it kept its trajectory away from the central Multiverse and its many inhabitants.
Laurelin watched her husband work, utterly enamored by the display. He was very much showing off for her, but she found him quite attractive when he wielded magic on this scale. The shifting lines of magic blended beautifully with the stars, wrapping their world in their arcane embrace as Galdurath irrevocably tied them to the planet's core, and once the atmosphere formed, she began her own work. Where Laurelin walked, life began its gentle stir: forests broke free from the dark dirt and stone, seas of salty filled water poured from her hands and soon glimmered with the light of the stars and the lines of magic above. She shaped the continents randomly, but preferred a series of super-continents, as opposed to a world with many landmasses, or a truly unique geographical profile. Life would someday flourish here, and she preferred for it to flourish together, in the harmony she would promote.
When the pair again met at the crown of the world, Galdurath finally spoke, an easier feat now that there was air which could carry waves of sound. "What name shall we bestow upon our new home, my Love?"
The Goddess paused in her creation of cooling caps of ice upon the planet, and began to ponder a name for their creation. Knowing he had time, Galdurath imbued his magical shield with the life-sustaining light of a Sun, a light which would never fade, and which would, for the sake of his sanity, run on a standard twenty four hour cycle, equally splitting the day hours, and the night, with the appropriate lighting gradually shifting forever between each.
Amused by his continued creation, Laurelin finally said, after several shifts between day and night, "Arcadia."
Galdurath made a face at her, as he paused in the creation of what would become their own dwelling. Massive white stone towers rose to caress the sky, forming a bastion that bespoke the power of its inhabitants, that would also serve as a nexus for the energies now surging across the planet. "Not exactly original, but if you desire it to be so, so shall it be." He then shifted his head to look at the planetary core, and uttered the name with the power and purpose of a God.
"We dub thee...Arcadia."
With the basics set into motion, the seas, the skies, the mountains, the two Gods finally took their ease, and on that northernmost point, finally ended their long time apart in all the ways that mattered. The footsteps of a God leave a mark on such a world, therefor it follows that coitus does much the same. Galdurath had plenty of centuries with which to plan their reunion, and his Laurelin was quite receptive to his efforts. Thus did Arcadia bloom, a paradise nurtured by the touch of the Gods as the spark of life quite literally rolled across the entire planetary sphere, several times, before they finally, truly rested.
The Era of Awakening
For years beyond mortal reckoning, Arcadia knew only that gentle embrace, the genuine love of two beings on a level of power not often seen, alone and undisturbed. But it could not last, nor did they intend it to.
With time, somewhat familiar creatures began to roam freely across the grasslands and clustered in the deep glens of the world’s forests. Those who began their existence as minor cells began to grow exponentially. Some, nurtured themselves on the remnants of Laurelin's passing tread. Others, nurtured themselves on the beings who preferred eating her flora. Green kingdoms flourished across each of the continents of the world, and a natural cycle of flora and fauna was established.
In the centuries that followed Arcadia’s initial flourishing, the planet teemed with new beginnings, yet both Gods sensed that something greater awaited. Their partnership had created an entire realm, but in their hearts, they craved an heir, another who would share in their joys and burdens, an echo of their bond to guide Arcadia forward.
So it was that Laurelin felt within herself a stirring unlike any other; the spark of a third Divine presence. In time, she bore a son whose birth shook the very world with his cries. Though no mortals walked the land yet, the creatures that roamed the forests and skies paused in silent reverence as the usually invisible weave of leylines crossing the world became visible from that moment forward, a chorus of cosmic energies that celebrated his son's arrival. Galdurath, joy shining in his azure eyes, held the newborn deity in his arms while Laurelin gazed upon him with wonder.
They named him Dagorion, a name woven from threads of possibility, carrying a hint of conflict yet unkindled. From the moment he opened his eyes, a curious gleam lit his golden gaze, as if he already beheld the boundless potential lurking beneath Arcadia’s tranquil surface.
While Dagorion slumbered in infancy and Laurelin and Galdurath focused their attention on their beloved son, in time, sentient mortal races, free-willed beings with the intelligence and awareness to appreciate the beauties of Arcadia and add their own sparks of creativity began to come forth from flora and fauna both. Their biological patterns drew purposeful inspiration from countless other worlds across the Multiverse, copying certain archetypes which Laurelin had woven into the world's creation herself. This had also been done for the fauna of their new world, every Phylum, from the lowliest worms to the mightiest land mammals, was of her design, and though she could not and did not take credit for their original formation, she did endow every single one with the same potential to one day achieve sentience. Not all would do so, but those species that did desire attributes suited for sentience, namely large, complex brains, would find their path easier than on any other world in the Multiverse. She had not discriminated either; species from all across the known realms had, and would, come to populate Arcadia. Large cats, canids, equines, even the somewhat iconic horsebirds commonly known in countless realms as Chocobos, there were few biological patterns she had not bothered learning and copying for this endeavor.
Laurelin’s first and dearest creation however, were the elves, the first race to emerge with full sentience, and the ones most closely bound to her life-giving essence. They formed from living trees in Arcadia’s oldest groves, giving them slender bodies, sharp senses, and a deep attunement to natural magic, and the source of it. Laurelin sensed them immediately, and the gentle beings quickly became her favorites forever more. Some elves preferred the bright sunlight and open fields, developing lighter complexions and an affinity for tending the natural world. Others gravitated to caves and deep delves within the earth, their skin darker and their arts more focused on the forging of metals by means of magic. These 'dark elves' as they would come to be known, became fast followers of Galdurath, but though they possessed skill and ingenuity, they were not his favorites, for there was another template of sentience he himself had woven into the fauna of the world, with the hope that one day, they would grow into what he knew they could become.
From the quick-witted primates that flourished in Arcadia’s canopied jungles, Galdurath encouraged the growth of a race that valued curiosity and adaptability. Humans, as he called them, possessed slightly shorter (in Godly measurement) lifespans than elves but compensated with bold ambition and an eagerness to push the boundaries of possibility. Galdurath hoped these mortals would learn from the mistakes of other worlds the human race occupied, evolving beyond any flaws their genetic ancestors might have known. He had made them smarter, but more predisposed to compassion and ingenuity than violence, insatiable greed, and a near-constant lust for reproduction. Despite his alterations, humanity was and always would be by far the most fecund race on Arcadia.
Though elves and humans were first, they were by no means the last. Feline folk both slender and mighty, bipedal lupine tribes who hunted their large prey in packs, rabbit-eared and near-human looking beings who became fast allies and friends of the elves, humanoid ursine warriors who preferred to hunt and live in the cold climates of Arcadia's mountains, and feathery avian folk with wings and hands both soared or stalked Arcadia’s wilderness as time passed.
Each subgroup evolved from the template of land, sea, and air bound creatures Laurelin had encouraged to grow, typically walking upright, and speaking with a single common tongue taught to them by an often disguised Galdurath, multitudes of new sentient species soon joined the growing global community established by humans and elves. These races inherited both bestial instincts like hunting, tunneling, or swift flight, and the capacity for reason and culture. Over time, the so-called 'beast races' diversified even more, but with the guidance of their Gods, the humans and elves welcomed each without pride nor prejudice, overjoyed to welcome new members into what they saw as a global family focused on progressing their collective technology to make all of their lives comfortable, happy, and easy. It was, by every metric, a Golden Age.
Born of melding bloodlines between elves, men, and the more beast like races, centaur folk soon appeared as well with combined torsos of elves and men, but with powerful equine, leonine, or otherwise bestial lower halves, blending speed and strength with eloquent speech. These genetic mixes ended up preferring to roam Arcadia’s vast plains in nomadic caravans, believing that freedom of movement was life’s greatest gift.
Along Arcadia’s coasts and coral reefs, sentients formed from the fauna of the oceans thrived as guardians of the seas. Some were like humanoid whales or dolphins while, with time, others again blending the ever abundant elves and humans with seafolk traits became colloquially known as merfolk. They formed underwater cities from living reefs and possessed an innate gift for controlling water magic. Some merfolk embraced more adventurous lifestyles, venturing onto land in search of trade or alliances while others remained in the depths, content to reign in the watery deeps, but always they kept the peace, unwilling to be the first of the races to sow discord. In this first age of Arcadia, things were, at least for a time, genuinely and truly peaceful. There wasn't a complete lack of conflict, but by and large the sentient peoples got along, wary of their Gods and unwilling to even contemplate what their loving creator's wrath might look like. Wrath, was the furthest thing from their Divine minds, as their young son and bountiful world brought them unmatched joy.
The Empyrean Age
When the young Dagorion finally was introduced to the flourishing community of the sentient races, he found himself surrounded by a kaleidoscope of various mortals, each forging small communities near fresh rivers or deep within forests. Though many worshiped Laurelin, giving thanks for her abundant life and nourishment, just as many turned to Galdurath in search of arcane knowledge, or grateful for the knowledge he had imparted upon them to make their lives and survival among the elements easier. All of them, regardless of species, did not know what to make of Dagorion, for while he was an honored child of their beloved Gods, his domain was not yet defined, for he himself had not yet found something that called to his very core, and melded with his powers and personality.
As the years passed in the northern realm of the Gods, Dagorion grew into his divine gifts. He walked among mortals in various guises, observing how they lived and thrived. At first, he admired the ways they competed: wrestling for sport, racing across fields, honing archery skills, even staging friendly tests of physical strength. While some basic weapons had arisen to combat the more violent and predatory creatures of the natural world, the sentient races had yet to turn them on each other, though Galdurath knew that day would, inevitably, come. Laurelin chose to believe otherwise, unwilling to give up her faith in their beautiful creations. She could not conceive of a world where their creations, those she saw also as their children, in a sense, turned on each other in violence. Here in this hidden corner of the Multiverse, she argued, things would finally be different. Galdurath let her win that argument, but he also knew well the nature of mortals. He knew time would prove him right, but he promised his beloved that he would never lose faith in them, even if they did inevitably fall to violence, corruption, and wanton slaughter as so very many Universes had before them.
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Galdurath was not idle, and thus in this age of unity and peace, he founded, in the world capital of Primus upon the equator, the Galdurian Academy of Magic, where he reigned as headmaster for the duration of what would one day be called the Empyrean Age. His efforts bore fruit. The sentient races of Arcadia advanced at a pace so rapid, it almost frightened their creators. With the molding and nurturing of the best and brightest the world had to offer, regardless of species or place of origin, the mysteries of Magic as a concept, and a power source, were unraveled. Runes once known only to the Lord of Magic became commonplace. Those who could conjure, control, and form magic into patterns to do their bidding, or cause a specific effect began appearing in great numbers, and Galdurath made a point of ensuring that these 'spell casters' adhered to his morals, as well as Laurelin's.
With magic as a source of power, society advanced rapidly in terms of technology, and though the wisest scholars of Arcadia slowly plied the natural forces of existence, they had a tendency to find a single method that worked, using magic, and not innovate further. Galdurath, in his eagerness to raise up multiple generations of brilliant minds, did not see this for the stagnation it would one day cause. As life became easier thanks to the advent of advanced magitech devices, typically powered by natural crystals refined into geometric shapes suited to guide and store magic, the culture of the people also boomed.
Everything, from waste disposal to the simple act of reading, was powered by magic, and slowly, a hierarchy began to form as it became clear that those with an affinity for drawing and shaping Arcadia's energies were being held in higher regard than their peers, who simply lacked their potential. The invention of currency, further established this hierarchy, as those with magical skill became better suited to earning larger quantities of their world's coins, colloquially known as Gil. This was done entirely on purpose, and would be historically regarded as a bad decision. Laurelin was openly against the use of currency from the beginning, but it was an argument that she lost to Galdurath, and the growing needs of a world-spanning society that required large amounts of trade to function and progress.
Naturally, with the rise of a hierarchy and experimenting with things like adding magic to axes or swords, their culture developed a needlessly gaudy but challenging tradition, of having duels between the highest level of spell casters. Like everything else on Arcadia, self defense had also become powered by magic. Dagorion reveled in these contests of skill, as they made his blood ignite in a manner he had never experienced, and could never get enough of. In them he saw the spark of true progress, mortals pushing themselves beyond their limits to new heights of strength and skill with a ferocity that called to him on a instinctual level. The simple honor in a fair, even contest of strength had a deep appeal.
Meanwhile, his parents remained enraptured in their own blossoming paradise. Laurelin continued to sow new seeds of life, as the flora of Arcadia grew ever taller, and its many cities became even more connected. Despite the progress of society, nature was not ignored, and their pollution was simply teleported elsewhere. Galdurath obsessively tested the boundaries of his own magic, refining Arcadia’s leylines and weaving more advanced protective wards around the planet. His knowledge of the Multiverse and its many denizens, and variations of denizens, had instilled him with perhaps not entirely unwarranted paranoia. Their love for each other, and for the world they had built, was so profound that Dagorion’s budding discontent and obsession with combat went unnoticed for far too long.
Over time, a restlessness took hold in his heart. Winning a contest of magical strength or an archery tournament only satisfied him briefly, for his skill was God tier and soon the clever mortals began to easily see through his disguises once his skills and reputation were recognized. Obviously, no Arcadian alive in that era would've ever dared to even accidentally injure the young God. In the face of these rigged contests. Dagorion began to crave something deeper, more visceral, a challenge that would raise the stakes, quicken the pulse, and truly ignite the soul to heights his father couldn't imagine. He wandered the outskirts of mortal lands, whispering to the more predatory beastkin and stoking their ancient instincts to hunt and battle for territory. He desperately sought one among the mighty beastial warriors who might rival his power, and yet, he always proved superior.
A flicker of unsettling darkness accompanied him on his travels to the far corners of the world. Laurelin was not blind to her son, for he tried stoking discontent among the elves and humans as well, albeit with less success. From distant eons of cosmic wandering, she finally recognized his growing darkness as a vestige of the evil that had dominated one of the oldest and largest parts of the Multiverse, one from which she had taken her own name, now forever lost in the evil shadow of its Dark Lord.
Even on Arcadia, this darkness, one might even call it the oldest, first, or original evil, had managed to seep past all of Galdurath's wards.
The Age of Murder
Dagorion, enthralled by the adrenaline of battle, eventually crossed that line between contest and slaughter, and in his rage, committed the world's first murder.
As the blood stained his hands and the visceral shock of seeing someone cut down filled his darkening eyes, he embraced his savagery, finally eagerly believing he had found his purpose. He and those who followed him, mostly members of the beast races, but no small amount of humans as well, also engaged in the act of murdering those who were weaker than they, simply because they could. The power, the excitement, the depraved sense of superiority it gave them opened them to the cosmos's natural darkness, which had been all too eager to flood the peaceful world for ages now.
Mortals who embraced Dagorion’s teachings and methods found themselves physically and spiritually twisted by darkness, losing the gentle shape Laurelin had blessed them with. Their forms grew monstrous, reflecting the violence within, and soon other, darker, and all too familiar patterns associated across the Multiverse with monsters began to form as well. Orcs, goblins, trolls, and other warped races began appearing in Arcadia’s dark corners, reveling in pillaging, bloodshed, and murder. They established primitive war-camps in remote places, devouring those they conquered in body and mind, heedless of how sick and depraved such things were to those with morals instilled by the Gods.
Upon discovering the atrocities arising in her beloved realm, Laurelin was horrified. Galdurath, equally dismayed by the sheer number of departed souls arriving in their northern abode at the peak of the world to reincarnate. They came in states of terror or despair, and he finally confronted Dagorion. Yet, once he did so, he found his once curious son was barely recognizable. Renouncing his old name with a scornful, mocking, laugh, he claimed a new name.
Dagorath, the God of War, a new identity fully aligned with chaos and bloodshed. In a final act of defiance, Dagorath empowered his monstrous champions to a new level of power.
They would come to be known by the decent, life-loving races as the Demon Lords, commanders endowed with slivers of Dagorath's divine power, who set entire civilizations ablaze in their war paths.
Realizing the existential threat posed by these Demon Lords, Galdurath formed an elite cadre of spell casters known as the Arc Wardens. These chosen mages, warriors, and scholars stood at the forefront of Arcadia’s defense. Under Galdurath’s guidance, they tracked each Demon Lord’s rise and unified the mortal races to purge the abominations, with great success. Each conflict saw the Arc Warden's skills grow, and their methods of killing Dagorath's abominations became more practiced and methodical. Under the threat of death, their technology, powered by Galdurath's will and his follower's ingenuity, advanced even further, as weapons of war gave the Wardens an inherent understanding of how to create other new and wondrous things. Artifacts of war, yes, but also magical energy grids, sturdier building materials, and devices that could send spells to ranges far beyond those that mortals could reach on their own power.
Despite these advances, too many people continued to fall before the Demon Lords. Laurelin was inconsolable, and Galdurath was forced to get creative. His son wanted to empower his followers? The God of Magic could do the same. Thus was the concept of Status Magic given to Arcadia's people, and on the eve of his retirement from the newly renamed Galdurian Arc Warden Academy, he described the concept of classes, advanced classes, and divinely granted access to intense concentrations of magic that were known simply as skills.
Though he explained much, Galdurath also, quite purposefully, left much of the system unexplained, which helped encourage more advanced minds to test its limits, and in so doing, expand them. The part that infuriated Dagorath most, was that it was now the planet's natural power, and the power of the Warden's own natural abilities, that elevated them to potential that could rival his Demon Lords. His father wasted not a drop of his power constantly fueling his Wardens, nor did he have to wait for that power to recoup.
Heroic adventurers, those with skills in certain types of magic or weapons, began to answer the Arc Wardens’ call from across the world, forging permanent alliances between elves, humans, beastfolk, and merfolk to vanquish the infernal armies of the God of War. Though many lives were lost, the Arc Wardens managed to destroy each Demon Lord within a few years of their rise, restoring a fragile peace for a time. Yet every victory left scars on Arcadia’s surface, the hearts of its people, and their weeping Goddess. With each new Demon Lord her despair grew, and for a long time, no one, not even her husband, could rouse her from her sorrow. Each soul who passed through her divine abode after dying to her son's abominations only reinforced her despair, and stoked Galdurath's anger.
The Age of Wardenfire
Unable to bear the ongoing carnage twisting her most cherished creations directly caused by her beloved baby boy, Laurelin withdrew in a deep depression to the far northern pole, into the ethereal complex that mortals revered as the Divine Fortress of Eldarheim. Enclosed by glacial peaks and hidden behind swirling magical auroras, it became a sanctuary where she could grieve and reflect. Her presence in the mortal realm grew all but nonexistent.
Meanwhile, Galdurath took more direct responsibility for Arcadia’s future. He reasoned that by continuously advancing magic and technology, mortals could better protect themselves from Dagorath’s twisted outbursts, and once a Demon Lord could rise and be felled within a day, he hoped that his son would see the foolish futility of his actions, and renounce this senseless bloodshed. With this goal in mind, he encouraged the Arc Wardens to refine their spellcraft, build grand cities brimming with arcane marvels, and improve their capacity to fight monsters. The power of flight was soon achieved, as advanced classes were discovered and unlocked. Magically powered ships began soaring the skies, and regularly rained down spells and martially skilled adventurers who were unrivaled in combat onto wandering hordes of monsters.
Though she had retreated in despair, Laurelin could not entirely ignore the mortal's cries for help. Driven by compassion from the genuine pleas of her favored races, she gifted certain priests and chosen adventurers with healing miracles and enhancement magic, blessings that empowered heroes to stand against monsters and other terrors when the darkness seemed all-consuming. Knowing she would find herself eventually, Galdurath had, naturally, incorporated classes who could give life as well as take it, and thus more natural oriented classes also began appearing in the groups that formed to put down Dagorath's spawn. It was the Warden's bravery that eventually drew her from her malaise, and she raised several of those heroic souls to the status of Divine Paragon, immortal and divinely blessed Champions who managed to reach beyond the System's level cap of two hundred. She kept these powerufl warrior's souls sequestered and hidden in the far northern pole of the planet. A plan was slowly forming in her mind, and for it to work in conjunction with Galdurath's efforts, she knew each mortal race would require a Champion.
Over the course of many wars, heroic adventurers, often times aided by Laurelin’s holy spells from one of her sages, druids, and clerics, drove back each successive Demon Lord. Over time, adventuring became both profession and entertainment, with the Arc Wardens codifying official ranks and bestowing ever more grandiose insignias within their hierarchy. There were, after all, numerous foul monsters in the world now, and the strongest of warriors should not be wasted wiping out tiny goblin nests, when fresher adventurers could do it as well, and gain more experience as a result.
There were also higher levels of monster, as Dagorath made use of the planet's System as well. Like adventurer, monsters also gained classes, it just took them much longer. The worst of these, were the dragons. Trained and grown by Dagorath himself, the winged monstrosities were his attempt at mirroring his mother, and her kind of magic. His success managed to forever darken a large swath of her precious planet, and that more than anything, made her determined to stop her son. Permanently.
One way or another, he would atone for what he had become. The Goddess of Life began sharing her own skills with her most devoted followers, and almost overnight, adventurers became much harder to kill.
To better organize the constant flow of would-be heroes, the Arc Wardens established the global organization known simply as the Adventurer’s Guild. With Galdurath's aid (and amusement, for he had been one such adventurer himself before he was ever a God), they laid out six core tiers of advancement, each reflecting the adventurer’s skill, magical aptitude, and overall contributions to Arcadia’s defense. The lowest and first of these tiers was bronze, where fresh recruits were given simple tasks like gathering herbs and ores for potions and weapons, or wiping out nests of smaller monsters.
Next was steel, by far the largest rank, this was where those with average skills that were unlikely to ever really advance ended up. The majority of adventurers journeyed and formed parties at this rank, and often they formed guilds within the Adventurer's Guild of multiple steel ranked parties, with which they could handle larger forces. Above them were mithril ranked adventurers, those who had true potential and never stopped advancing. They had the drive and luck needed to survive dangerous quests, and they did not know fear, thus they delved ever deeper into monster hordes, sometimes perhaps a bit too heedless of the dangers they could discover.
Adamantine adventurers were considered the elite, and were often granted titles or lands under an Arc Warden's domain. They were largely tasked with training bronze parties into steel ranked ones, and with them leading said parties, kept their domains safe from the ever encroaching violence seeking monstrosities of the God of War. Above them were runic ranked adventurers, genuine heroes who were often blessed by one of the Gods in a particular skill or fighting style, fearless and well equipped with magical artifacts gained through lifetimes of questing and dungeon delving, their experiences hardened them into monster killing one-man armies. They tended not to form parties, and if they did, only did so with other runic or adamantine ranked adventurers, and usually not for very long. There were of course exceptions to that rule, as certain advanced classes, like knights, began forming orders to pass on their skills to the next generation in a manner that would survive eons. Luckily, the Status Magic also helped with this. As long as one was the same class as the skill they desired to learn, training and practice would eventually grant it.
Finally, at the top of he hierarchy, but still considered lesser than an Arc Warden, draconic ranked adventurers were the final ace up the sleeve of every domain. Only usually appearing when a calamity class monster showed up, they were considered living legends, and often, led entire branches of the Adventurer's Guild. Monsters on that level were almost always one of Dagorath's dragons, or a monstrosity on par with one. Once one reached that status, becoming inducted into the Arc Wardens was all but guaranteed, and Arc Wardens, or those with their level of magical potential, were considered draconic class adventurers by default, once they reached a certain level. Naturally, their offspring were also typically near or at the same level as their forebears, and with time, special academies formed in Arcadia's largest cities to train these ridiculously skilled children into the next generation of living legends, often expediting their rise through the Adventurer's Guild and its ranks and being granted top tier items and relics from the start of their journeys.
The Dungeon Era
Once again, time passed, and over millennia, this hierarchy fostered a functional, if stratified, society. The magically supreme became Arc Wardens, while the rest of the people, namely those without incredible magical aptitude, were relegated to the menial, dangerous, and darker side of their society. With power, came corruption, and Arc Wardens went from being defenders of the planet, to people who could ruin a commoner's entire life if they felt like doing so.
Remarkably, after a particularly nasty Demon Lord who'd reigned for forty years of darkness was slain by a party of draconic ranked adventurers led by the most powerful Arc Warden of the Age of Wardenfire, Arcadia entered an extended era of calm. No monstrous armies emerged to threaten the capitals, and the dreaded southern polar regions where Dagorath’s corrupt creatures once marched forth from, lay quiet. The world at large turned its attention to commerce, art, and technological progress under Galdurath’s guiding hand.
Human blacksmiths invented new metal alloys, elves honed magical horticulture that could feed entire cities, and adventurers safeguarded roads from lingering monsters. Draconic tier heroes faded into legend. Some believed the threat of war had truly ended, as the peaceful era lasted for centuries.
Yet this peace brought unintended consequences. With no great battles to unify them and only small groups of monsters popping up more and more infrequently, the mortal races gradually sank into complacency. The Arc Wardens, flush with wealth and privilege, grew preoccupied with maintaining their lofty status. Taxes rose, magical artifacts remained locked behind bureaucratic charters, and corruption festered in the guildhalls. Without epic quests to sponsor, local leaders hoarded resources for their own comfort.
In an effort to stymie this stagnation, Galdurath used his magic and the world-spanning leylines to occasionally spawn Dungeons, full of magic ore, rare herbs, and of course, high tier loot created by the randomness of the arcane. These dungeons, powered by the core of the world itself, naturally, and by design, attracted Dagorath's minions, splitting his armies of monsters up across the world, and beyond even his reach from his seat of power on the South Pole, the dread fortress of Golgorrath. In time, the monsters within the numerous Dungeons ended up forming their own kingdoms, separate from Dagorath, though they still universally worshiped him as their God, and he would, sometimes, begrudgingly empower them, mostly out of irritation, so that his father's precious adventurers delving greedly for loot would find only despair and ruin waiting in those dark labyrinths.
As the centuries rolled on, despite the success of Dungeons keeping the adventurers sharp and questing, a mounting disparity crystalized. Those born with considerable magic or resource connections enjoyed the privileges of advanced artifacts, easy access to healing, and comfortable city homes. Meanwhile, commoners, especially those with scant magical talent, scraped by in cramped urban districts or rural settlements far from the Guild's protection.
Arcadia had once championed unity in the face of Demon Lords, but now wealth and status were concentrated among the Arc Wardens and high-ranking adventurers who turned wealthy off of their Dungeon delving, leaving the majority of mortals without large magical reserves vulnerable to exploitation, and surges of low level monsters capable of leaving Dungeons. The gilded white towers of Arcadia's glorious cities that had once symbolized hope became monuments to inequality.
Laurelin witnessed this slow rot from the solitude of her northern fortress. Her tears once more fell upon its white stone ramparts as she recalled the dream she and Galdurath had once shared. Had they truly condemned their children to a life of hierarchical oppression?
She saw no easy solution. If she swept down and revoked the Arc Wardens’ power, what new chaos might fill that vacuum in this age of unchecked greed?
Arcadia stood on the brink of another pivotal chapter in its history, one shaped not by Demon Lords or monstrous invasions, but by the moral decay of a stagnating society. Even Galdurath, ever the optimist, sensed that Arcadia’s magic-laden brilliance was becoming dull, when so many of the just over two billion inhabitants of the modern era remained excluded from its fruits.
Laurelin, unwilling to see her creation slip further into cruelty, contemplated a drastic measure. She recalled her and Galdurath's wanderings in the broader Multiverse, where lost civilizations sometimes found salvation in an unexpected traveler or a revolutionary concept from beyond their world. Perhaps an outside influence could jolt Arcadia awake, reminding them of their original ideals and bridging the gulf between the powerless majority and the privileged few.
With that final resolution, the Goddess of Life stirred from her hidden domain, a glimmer of resolve shining in her sorrowful eyes. Her divine mind drifted across the far reaches of space and time, calling forth a champion unsullied by Arcadia’s rigid hierarchy, a brave, kind soul who might inspire hope rather than merely enforce order, and change their decaying society for the better. Yet, in her deepest heart, she hoped they would not just shake the foundations of this new, and to her perspective, modern Arcadia. She also hoped for a soul that would bring redemption, atonement, and balance to her long lost baby boy, and with that wish in her heart, her divinely guided gaze settled upon the Sol system, and third rock floating around its Sun.
