Sunbringer

Velas and Malfer, a long time agoOnce upon a time Velas was a land like any other land in Raal. The sun would rise in the south and lazily crawl to the north. And once the ever-fierce globe disappeared beneath the tall north mountains, lush green forests all over Velas would wake up from their slumber, growing and giving life.On sapphire coloured meadows the proud elf cities stood, tall and beautiful. Almost as beautiful as their builders. Almost. Few were brave enough to set out into elven lands. For thousands of years they thrived, while their might and hardened silver weapons repelled all invaders.Then came the disease. The bright-eyed silver-skinned warriors turned into bloodthirsty monsters. Almost a third of the population succumbed to this new illness. The monsters hid in the dark and waited for night in search of their next meal. They were hunted at every turn, but it wasn’t enough. Nights became a source of fear, menacing and u

Canestor and Zanestor, a long time ago West of Velas lay the most inhospitable land in Raal. Canestor, the rocky land. Canestor was a harsh country, devoid of most life. The only thing that was in abundance there were rocks, from small piles of polished grey stones to gigantic razor-sharp mountains. The sparse tufts of sickly grey grass made the whole land look even gloomier.Yet, as in all things in life, nature found perfect tenants. Trolls. They were huge creatures with thick grey skin that you could easily mistake for a stone and with big shiny diamond shaped eyes. They looked scary, and yet there was some inexplicable beauty in them. But the trolls were not the only inhabitants of Canestor. Deep underground there were whole cities decorated with gold and jewels, cities of the dwarves.Dwarves, a short, hardened race of warriors and builders who dug tunnels deep in the bowels of the earth in search of precious metals and gems,

The age of magicIt is not known how the elves got their knowledge of magic from demons. Even today, it was a closely guarded secret. But there was one thing that everyone in Raal knew. To be able to control magic, you had to have the spark. Without it, magic was as useful as a wooden sword.The first school of magic was founded on the outskirts of Veltas, the capital of the elves. In those days, when the vampire disease had already spread throughout Velas, it was not difficult to find an abandoned estate. Entire families were slaughtered by their own kin who turned into beasts and fed on them, or were executed by the elven guard for helping the monsters they still considered family. One of the largest empty estates was converted into an academy for future sorcerers.Across the country, children and adults were tested for the spark and sent to the academy. The spark did not discriminate. High-born elves, low-born elves, elven women, elven men. A

Nio’s story Nio's mother Vina was a noblewoman. The Dal House has stood proud for thousands of years. They ruled over the utmost southern region of Velas. The household at the time consisted of Vina's father and her brother Kontar. Everyone knew that young lord Dal would one day take his father's place on the high council. The Dal House was one of the few houses that retained its power after the vampire plague.When the most powerful sorcerers in the country replaced the high council, the nobility was pushed aside. They were still aristocracy and had vast estates all over Velas, at least those not killed by the vampire scourge, but their grip over elven present and future was no more. The new high council now had seven members instead of thirteen. And of those old thirteen seats, only two families managed to hold on to it. The house of Dal from the south and the house of Sif from the northwest.Unlike the rest of the nobility

Nio’s story Nio was a spirited boy. Growing up in the countryside he had a whole world to explore and experience. Like any curious boy, he often got himself in trouble. When he was four, he couldn’t understand why chickens from their coop don’t fly. All the birds were flying. He tried to help them by throwing the smaller ones into the air, but to no avail. In his little brain, he concluded that they needed more room for take-off. One early morning he snuck out of the house and opened the chicken coop door. The chickens stayed inside. Nio pushed them into the garden and then to the nearest meadow. It was a slow and time-consuming task, but the boy persisted.An hour later, his mother found him in the meadow. Nio's face was wet with tears and distorted with frustration. Not a single hen even tried to take off. His mother took him in her arms and comforted him, explaining to him that chickens could not fly. Not everyone was