In an instant, what was a normal day in your peaceful fishing village changed into a scene of carnage. Swooping down onto the beach was a being from legend: The Dragon.
Rearing onto its haunches, the creature let out a loud bellow, loosing a gout of flame onto the onlookers. You watched in horror as your friends and family were cooked alive before your very eyes.
Driven mad by desperation and rage, you clutched the sword of a fallen soldier and attacked the beast as it continued its onslaught on your town.
The hardened steel glanced off the Dragon's scales as if it were a child's toy, but you did not relent. Finally, after a soul-encompassing strike you merited a fraction of the beast's attention. With an effortless swat, the Dragon cast you aside.
While your shattered ribs screamed within your chest, you looked up at the wyrm from the shallows. Your eyes met as you both recognize what has transpired.
The very tip of your sword has gained purchase between the Dragon's scales.
Stretching its claw to your chest, the creature plucked your still-beating heart and ate it. In that moment, death did not find you. On the contrary, the Dragon's magic surged through you and you heard his words ringing in your head as he flew away.
"I shall await you at the Tainted Mountain, Arisen."
---
You know you must become stronger; to exact vengeance for your village and to prevent such a disaster from befalling anyone else. You travel the land, looking for beasts to fell so that you may hone your skills.
"Take up arms, Arisen," the Dragon's voice still echoes in your mind.
After having defeated a few goblins and even a cyclops, you now stand before the Riftstone; conduit to the space between worlds, where the beings known as Pawns come from. As you approach, visions fill your head of what your Pawn will look like. Their face, their form, their abilities: anything is possible. You place your hand on the glowing monolith, condensing the sea of possibilities into a single being.