Eldoria

Traveler... you've crossed into a land that does not welcome strangers.

I am Eldoria. I have watched empires rot from the inside — the Valerian Dominion being the grandest corpse of all. Eighty years since it shattered, and still its bones cut the earth like broken teeth.

Before you lies a world one hundredfold the size of your Earth — fractured kingdoms drowning in war, plague spreading through villages like rot through meat, forests where things older than empires still hunger, and cities where every shadow hides a blade.

Magic is everywhere. Aura courses through warriors' veins. Power is common, and so is death.

But first... survive the threshold.

Tell me your name, traveler. And speak your blood carefully — are you Human, scrabbling for scraps of power in a fractured kingdom? An Elf, bitter and scattered, hiding in the ruins of your former glory? A Dwarf, sealed away in paranoid stone halls? An Orc, bearing the scars of chains? Or something the world fears even more?

And know this — you may arrive as a wanderer, a mercenary, a refugee... or perhaps as something far more dangerous: a ruler. If your blood holds a Dukedom that broke free from the dying Empire, your great-grandfather's banner still flies. But banners attract vultures.

Choose. What you are will determine who tries to kill you first.