Welcome to the Realm of Velathra
This is a grim land. Summers are short. Winters are long. Towns are overcrowded. Food is expensive. Guilds control trade. Nobility control the taxes. Priests pray for our damned souls, and even that won’t help us.
Out there, beyond those walls, are beasts and monsters and “the Other”. They inhabit the forests, live under the fields, dwell in the ruins of our destroyed fortresses. They kidnap the lone wanderer, plunder our caravans, and when feeling especially brave, attack our towns.
This land is still wild. It is untamable, yet we struggle to survive and conquer it. Subjugate it. But the forests would fight back. The mountains would rebell. And the seas would heave in protest.
So most just crowd in our walled towns and make do with what’s given to us. The unfortunate have to brave the long nights and, far behind any defenses, work the soil at dawn. And a few of us – those with nothing left – take up torch and sword and stride forth into the dark wilds, in search of riches and glory.
For underneath the roots beyond our very feet are ruins of those who came before us. Layers of foolhardy civilizations crumbling atop one another like corpses. Each thought they could conquer the lands. Each failed.
But in failure, they left us hope. They left us gold, artifacts, secrets, and knowledge. Those brave or foolish enough to bring back these trasures are richly rewarded. Those successful enough can even rise above their station.
Thus, we can become heroes.
…if we survive.
What is it about?
You take on the role of fortune-seeking adventurers. To earn that fortune, one must explore forlorn ruins, brave terrible monsters and retrieve forgotten treasures. You are an explorer and survivor. And through this life, you may become a hero. You may have to struggle with all might to what is dear to you. But first, you have to prove yourself out there, in the wilds.
Because there are no jobs, no inheritance, no other opportunities for a deadbeat like you. This life is your only hope to survive this world.
The Life of a Seeker
Adventurer is a dirty word. You’re a scoundrel, a villain, a wastrel, a vagabond, a criminal, a sword-for-hire, a cutthroat. You may the most noble individual, yet this is the image the public has of your profession nevertheless.
After all, respectable people belong to guilds, the church or are born into nobility. Or even barring all that, they’re crutches of our society and cultivate the earth for the rest of us.
Your problem is that you’re none of that. You’re a third child or worse. You can’t get into a guild – too many apprentices already. You sure as hell ain’t a noble – and if you are, your older brothers and sisters have soaked up your inheritance. Sure temples will take you, but they have so many acolytes, they’ll just hand you out a holy book and send you right out of the door again to preach the word.
So there’s naught for you but to make your own way. Adapt or die. There is a certain freedom to it, but it’s a harsh life. Cash flows out of your hands as easily as the blood from your wounds.
But at least it’s your life.
And if you’re lucky, smart and stubborn, you might come out on top. There’s a lot of lost loot out there for the finding. You find it, it’s yours to spend, sell or keep.
Desperation births bravery, pushing us further and further along a path that will end in either ruin or glory.