Ceaden 5, 10th of Aprilis (Imperial 1E 1)
The land of Myrtana. Divided, by centuries of warfare between tribes and constant raids by slavers, this small province on the continent of Varrant, had seen much bloodshed over the years. But, in a small, slaving outpost on the coast, called Vengard, an event would happen which would shake the very foundations of the world. Or so the legend says...
The slaves were rounded up like cattle, their cruel overseers showing no mercy to their captives. The Midlanders were little more than property. Nomadic barbarians to be hunted down, captured and forced to work in some distant mine. Many of these would never see the light of day again. The slave quarters were cramped, dirty and foul smelling. Disease ran rampant. And onto the slavers' cogs, life was no better.
For centuries, life went on like this, in the Land of Myrtana. People fought and died for countless reasons, slavers came and took what they desired and poverty was a fact of day to day life. Until this day. Another prisoner was brought to the slaving camp. He did not know, but he would change everything.
For Kainan, of the Wolf clan, this was the worse nightmare he could possibly imagine. A skilled hunter and a good swordfighter, he had, nevertheless, been captured by these strange men who came over the sea, when they attacked his village in the mountains. Now, he slept in the slave pens, with the rest of his tribe. But the slavers did not know one thing about this particular tribe. They were Dragonborn. A fierce history of war ran through their veins. And already, the new slaves started spreading ideas of rebellion and escape, amongst the others. But Kainan had something different in his mind.
He still remembered the dream he had, one night before he was captured. In that dream, a man appeared to him and called himself Beliar, god of Justice. And he showed him vast cities, connected by roads, powerful legions marching through the land, conquering all in their path. And then, the god spoke. "Behold. This is my vision of the future. Your destiny awaits you. For centuries, your kind have struggled under the cruel whip of the Chaos Lords. But now, it is time to lay aside your staff". In the dream, Kainan did as he was asked, he laid down his walking staff (Myrtanians often carried these to help them navigate the rugged terrain). And the god gave him a sword, its blade made of the purest steel, bright blue flames engulfing the deadly edge. "Now go. Vanquish your enemies." said the god at last. That is how the dream had ended.
Nevertheless, the idea stuck. Kainan's dream of a proud and powerful people grew roots in his heart. It was not enough to drive the slavers into the sea. It was not enough to return to their previous tribal existence. No, the people of Midland had to be united under a single banner: his own. From the moment that the idea emerged, he began looking for opportunities to strike out at his captors. And, one day, just before he was to be embarked onto one of the slaver's ships, that opportunity finally came.
The slavers were a careless bunch, without fearing their prisoners too much, even though they outnumbered them ten to one. Carelessness and alcohol are a dangerous combination, one that leads to neglect. And when the guard at the entrance to the slave pen where Kainan and the others were kept, fell asleep, Kainan quietly sneaked to the grated door, reached out through the wooden bars towards the guard's sword and stabbed him in the back with his own weapon.
