Heroes of Old
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In the aftermath of the Blackroot War, there was an overflow of warriors and heroes, teeming through the newly claimed King's Valley. Unsure of what else to do, the King created a dazzling showcase of heroics, the Arena of Terth.
Those who could best the many waves of creatures, captured warbeasts from the War, would be instantly recognized for their strength and cunning. People came from all around the world to watch and participate, and with them came trade and prosperity to these lands.
For a time, the future seemed bright and it was all but certain that nothing could stop Sierhaven from being the economic center of the world. But those glory days are long gone.
With the Arena of Terth at the height of its popularity, a tragic accident occurred, when a particularly vicious warbeast escaped the arena after slaughtering a challenger, and escaped onto the streets of Sierhaven.
It took the lives of dozens of townspeople and four other Arena victors before the beast was quelled. While efforts were taken to reinforce the Arena, and ensure this never happened again, popularity waned, and the denizens of Sierhaven were no longer interested in Arena heroics.
As a child I was brought up on the stories of the Arena and like most, played the role of great heroes in my imagination with friends.
Yet in time I realized they were long gone, and for good reason. The world did not need great heroes anymore. I instead followed the path my parents had followed years ago and became a merchant, content to live a quiet life.
However, part of me never outgrew those days of my youth. I still secretly dreamed to see a real battle in the Arena; to hear the roar of the crowd, to smell the dirt kicked up by the warbeasts, to see the blood staining the ground.
Perhaps one day my dream could come true. Events are stirring out in the wilds, and perhaps a time for heroes is coming again.