The sun comes up above the Bloodrise Mountain Range, as it does every morning, its glow peeking out from behind the jagged peaks. From the valley below, the light is refracted in such a way that it seems to bather the mountains in a deep red glow, which seeps down into the valley like a tidal wave of blood. This happens every morning, with such regularity that the eerie beauty of the event event is long lost on any inhabitants of the area. They regard it not with wonder, or horror, but with yawning half-interest. Even the dwarves of the company towns who now mine this place for its rich veins of orichalcum, and caches of gems regard it only for a moment, before those hirsute mammals return to the unceasing labours…

But to those who dwell in the shadows of those crags, it is an omen of things to come. To the kobolds of Bloodrise proper, the bugbears who skulk in the tunnels by day and stalk mountain-valleys by moonlight, and the outcast elves who sharpen blades deep below even them, the eponymic sunrise of this mountain range tells the tale of the dwarven blood that will pour forth like a river—like an ocean—and baptize a newborn age. There is a new king under the mountain—a Dragon King, copper in hue and humanoid in form, favoured by the Dark Gods to bring about a new epoch—an Age of Darkness to scour the surface of the weak children of light.

They call you many things: champion, conqueror, chosen one, king. Some might call you usurper, or villain, but never in your presence, because even your detractors fear your wrath and eagerly chase your favour. They sense your Fearsome Presence. They can feel the mountain moving. The wyrm has turned.

You are the DRAGONBORN ANTIPALADIN, and you are going to change the world!