The Mythic Age before the Draconic Calendar[]
In the beginning, there were dragons; creatures of pure divinity, so deeply connected with the cosmos, that their battles and friendships echo in what we now call the “Worlds of the Astral Sea”. Time, space, chaos, order, matter & energy all originated from their minds, bodies, talons, wings, scales & breaths. And as their breaths torched wings and talons tore scales, what makes up our world and all other worlds, fused into what we see today.
Many worlds were created, some from battles, others out of unions of love; most flourished with life, diverse and ever-changing. These worlds scattered across the void, and remained isolated; none the wiser about the existence of everything that stretched beyond their skies.
The sentient creatures of this world spent countless eons living in peace and war, struggling for survival and living lives in luxury, forging their destinies and embarking on quests of virtue and valor or decadence and hunger for power. The great among them became heroes and whole cities gathered to cheer at the slightest provocation. The great among those commanded kingdoms and shaped the world more than any other in their time. And the greatest among those were so accepted by the people of the land to rise to power beyond what a mortal could wield, and so they abandoned their names and their bodies to become something more. These embodiments of power and faith are the gods that some pray to today.
Then came the first seers, humans in their inception, the first mages, who managed to open pathways between the realms and in doing so understood the power inherent in each world. They spent centuries walking the million planes, collecting knowledge on how to manipulate all the facets of reality.
As their portals remained open the different races mixed, migrating from world to world, elves, humans, orcs and the like setting and calling new lands their home, soon forgetting whose world it was they took residence in.
And then, it happened. A Dragon’s drop of blood fell on a distant world, not drawn by talons or let out by fire, but drawn from a wound caused by a sword. Someone across the universe had declared war on the dragons, and planned for it to spread like the plague across the million realms. The dragons grew furious at this hubris of the new races and turned against the seers with great vengeance. All who possessed the powers of portal-making were hunted, with the dragons allowing only one in each plane, sealing his fate with a terrible curse, for each gatekeeper was bound to their realm destined to die should he ever step outside again.
Draquelien, the Gatekeeper, had no choice but to destroy the remaining Gateways and hide the last one so that it may never be found. Tired and distraught he fell into a slumber until his services were needed again.
The remaining practitioners of magic abandoning the title of the seer, scattered, each pursuing different goals, inventing new names for themselves and using magic as a tool and a weapon during the 2nd Age and the rise and fall of the Imperium.