It starts with a king…

Once upon a time, the peoples of Caerim were at war. Alliances had splintered, leaders fell, and waves of the most abominable fiends closed in from all sides.

In this time of despair, a great warrior king of men sailed from the west. He was called Riothamus, which in the tongues of old means “Greatest King.” Wearing gilded armor polished into a mirror finish and draped in a cloak made from the skin of a dire bear, Riothamus united the disparate tribes of men, elves, and dwarves and they met the armies of Lithim—The Abominable One—on a great field of battle at the foot of San-Terack.

For seven weeks the battle raged, the numbers of men dwindled, and on the forty-ninth day of battle Riothamus led one final desperate charge into the heart of the fiendish army, on the slopes of San-Terack. There, wielding his shining sword, Riothamus struck down Lithim, and smote his ruin upon the mountainside.

But there would be no celebrations that night. During the climactic confrontation with the Lord of Abominations, Riothamus was fatally wounded. In the army camp, after the fiends had scattered back to the holes in the ends of the earth from which they had crawled, the great king lay dying. In the hazy mists before the dawn, a noble gold dragon appeared. Scooping up Riothamus in her claws, she carried him high above San-Terack, west over the great arc of the world, to his eternal castle in Avalon.

There in Avalon, attended by a company of the noblest knights, Riothamus sleeps an ageless sleep, waiting for the day when Caerim needs him most, when he will sail from the west with his immortal knights and usher in a new golden age with his thousand-year reign.

At least, that is what the legend says.

Children of Avalon

LeOban DrewT thatmoiety