Cursory History of the New World

         "Loremaster Reginald Hopps, presenting a brief history lesson for you. You may have unlocked your Primary Skillsets already, but you're still students, and it's at this point that the majority of people feel you're ready to learn a bit more about how we came to be here," Reginald looked out at the group of children assembled in front of him. A mix of heights, ages, and skin tones stared back, made even stranger at the races of the New World mixed in. "You are all children of what we call Ancients, the humans who fled their old home planet called Earth. This makes you an Elder, even if you're only around twelve years old. As you should know, Ancients and Elders alike have a unique ability among the creatures of the New World called Deathless, which allows you to revive yourselves after about an hour of being slain. You have likely not experience this yet, which is good, because dying is very traumatic the first time."
         One of the children raises their hand, a young boy with pale skin and bright, almost glowing blond hair. "Why are you telling us stuff we already know, sir?" The confusion clear on his face, as if he has no concept of the idea of guile. Reginald's stare shifts slightly, annoyed at being interrupted.
         "What you burst in on was me going on to the next part. What's your name, child? I want to know who to keep an eye on in the future," The child paled, if it was possible, pulling into himself, trying to make his presence smaller.
         "My name is Sunshine, sir. Most people call me Sunny," He quietly says, looking down, trying his hardest to let the old loremaster continue his lesson. He jumps to the harsh bark of Reginald laughing.
         "Sunshine. It's cute. Well, Sunshine, it's unlikely that your parents informed you, as most Elders and their children, and on and on have been instructed not to, the Ancients have an ability you don't. It's called Timeless, and it makes it so they no longer age after reaching puberty, unless they came over here after that, then they just stop accruing the effects of aging. Elders live longer than the normal examples of their race, which for most of you is human. Humans in this world with the level of technology and medicine tend to only live around seventy years, while most of you will be able to easily double, and maybe even triple that number."
         Most of the children perked up at this new information. Murmurs spread around, as if the concept of longer lives didn't even occur to any of them until now, even if their great-great-grandparents were still alive. Reginald looked to the other instructor in the room, a smirk on his face. He loved when his knowledge base could impress others, even if they were children. The other instructor didn't seem as impressed, but that might be due to his own ancestry. Marshal Jorgensen was a human, but he wasn't and Elder. He was elderly, though, clearly approaching the end of his natural life in about a decade or less. Thinning gray hair, a face full of wrinkles, and scars criss-crossing almost every patch of skin showed that his life was not one of fun and games, but of strife and struggle.
         "Get on with it, Hopps! The kids don't understand what that means in the long run," Jorgensen chipped in, closing his eyes. Reginald wasn't happy to be rebuked in such a way, but decided to continue on anyway.
         "Ancients lived in a different place, called Earth, many centuries ago. Magic didn't exist at that point in time, but technology was much farther along than it is here. Eventually something happened and one man was chosen by some higher power to be the birth of magic on Earth, and it spread, across the world. He would, in time, come to be the uniting force of the world, teaching many how to harness their new power without fear of doing something dangerous without meaning to. Sadly this peace was not meant to be, as a small group learned how to create a magical storm, more than powerful enough to pull Earth, the surrounding planets, and even a few stars into it, destroying them all in one fell swoop."
         "Of course, we wouldn't be here if that was the end of the story. No, the Archmage was able to force a world into being, made a portal here, and then lead as many people as he could. Three hundred thousand Ancients now reside here as refugees, torn from their own world into a world that was forced to exist based on the whim of a man with too much power to his name. Even stranger still was that he imposed a different world-view here; every effort would be rewarded, directly by the ambient magic of the world. You know this is as gaining experience and leveling up. You can also call to existence a representation of your physical and mental capabilities, and a detailed account of what items and materials that are in front of you are. Many Ancients complain about this "game mechanic" being forced upon them, and those who used to be in charge were upset that any individual would be able to improve themselves in such a way that was easy to check. You can't lie about your experience and level, or even what class you are. Those are easily obtained pieces of information for almost anyone that has unlocked their Primary Skillset."
         Reginald watched as the children looked to each other in confusion, watching the realization that what he was saying was true; they could Analyze each other, getting some basic information on each other without asking anything out loud. Some of the children looked to the two instructors in the room, trying the same on them and being confused.
         "Don't even try it, little ones," Jorgensen chimed in. "You may be able to check each other, but it only works when your target is within about five levels of yours. I can guarantee that none of you whelps can check me, except maybe a Scout or Scholar, but you won't understand what you're looking at just yet." This made some of the children jump, as they didn't realize he was actually paying attention to the class, since his eyes were still closed. "Y'should tell them about that ability a bit more, since you brought it up."
         "I'm just here to teach history. Skills are your area, Jorgensen. So a group of confused and scared Ancients were here, and they began to create a home for themselves, but humans being humans, they began to conflict with themselves. The Archmage suggested a self-imposed divide, allowing those with similar ideas or skills to join with one another, and this idea was jumped on quickly by many others. A total of eight factions were founded, one being lead directly by the Archmage. From there, each faction began carving out their own territories, and while they might not have been large, they were mighty. Nobody wants to fight against a group that doesn't experience death the same way that everyone else does."
         "Many time the factions fought each other, but the Archmage was there to mediate and remedy many situations. Those he couldn't get involved in happened too quickly. The leaders would, after a time, become complacent and bored with the current status quo, and a few of them planned to remove the biggest obstacle for their growth; the Archmage himself. He couldn't be killed, because he was an Ancient like them, but he was also the most powerful being that anyone had met, including many from this world. Even dragons paled in comparison to him. Every year the leaders would meet to discuss things that needed the input of everyone, and for ten years a vote to remove the Archmage from power was held. You're young, so you wouldn't know when it happened, but I imagine that since you don't hear anything about him anymore, you can guess that it eventually succeeded. The former Archmage was dethroned, and the Round Council was formed."
         The children started to look a little bored, as this was new information, but it didn't help them at all these days. Whenever this happened, it was long enough ago that it shouldn't affect them anymore, right? The loremaster cast a spell and called forth an illusion showing a mana storm raging full force between a few of the faction cities.
         "I'm sure you know what that is. A mana storm, called forth from the ambient mana going crazy from so many of us, and the monsters, utilizing it so often. This is an effect of the Archmage leaving. He was able to control all ambient mana with but a thought, and since he was exiled he has refused to do anything that works outside of his home," A bit of anger slipped out at the end there. Reginald took a deep breath, calming himself back down. "Ambient mana rages in occasional storms, and monsters gather in larger groups, and the dungeons that we know of, if not kept in check by diving groups, would overpower anyone who went inside. Learning your combat skillsets will help you become adventurers, which we need to fight the monsters, to warn us of the storms, and to dive in the dungeons, keeping the world safer for everyone who isn't able to fight. Luckily, the world will reward your efforts, even if we don't. Fighting monsters will reward you will plenty of experience, and whatever loot they're carrying with them if it doesn't break itself down for the mana-flow of the world. Warning us of the storms will allow us to shift them, allowing our safe areas to stay safe. Dungeon diving gives great loot, and as each dungeon is unique, you have a chance to get specialized gear that you couldn't find anywhere else."
         The group of children looked on, eager for more information about what kind of things they could look forward to in the future. Many whispered rumors they had heard, sharing what little info they knew of dungeons in the area or the different types of monsters that they would fight frequently, spreading the names of well-known monsters who had a monster core, allowing them to claim a Lair and revive themselves like the Ancients, but to a much lesser degree. They would turn into monster dens, making more of the kind that claimed it. The loremaster looked to the old Marshal, a small chuckle escaping as he heard a gentle snore over the growing roar of the children.
         "So! Humans escaped Earth, became Ancients, formed eight factions, fought with one another until eventually a delicate balance was struck. They broke the piece that created the balance, removing one faction, creating the Round Council, and at the same time, letting the world become more wild due to the one controlling it leaving. Each faction now maintains records that are checked against one another, so that they all match for the most part. History is fickle, and the winner of each conflict writes what happened, which is usually true because the loser is often either dead, or so weak they can't argue. Magic contracts between factions keeps us safe, as we're not allowed to fight when in other factions' territories, and many disagreements are played out during special tournaments. Two hundred years after the exile of the former Archmage, and things are finally starting to balance out a bit more, but during all of that time, we have fought, expanded our holds, grown stronger, been ravaged when the Elders finally started dying off the first time, went into a frenzy trying to establish a controlled educational system, which is where you are now. Seven factions exist, and while you were born to family members who were born to one or another, you have the choice of who you pledge yourself to. I suggest learning a bit more of our history, but you can do what you want on that front, as my politics shouldn't affect yours. You're also very young, so you likely don't understand what exactly that means," Reginald released a large sigh, getting tired of the low murmurs that continued through the group of children. "Hey, Jorgensen, I think it's your turn for the rest of the day. Try to tire them out a bit, as they seem a little restless."
         The old Marshal opened his eyes and stood quickly, using his right fist to punch into his left hand, creating a loud resounding clang. The chatter stopped and all of the children looked to him with wide eyes, a mixture of fear and awe. "Right, here's where we get to play for real. You'll get your arses outside, and gather based on the type of skillsets you have; warrior types, mage types, specialist types, gatherers, and crafters. Any of you who are Illusionists, Chronomancers, Beast Masters or Summoners, break off and form a separate group, as you'll have special instructions later. We're going to get you into groups, and then I'll send you off to fight, and likely die. Again and again." His eyes seemed to almost glow with malice, likely enjoying how his power was able to easily affect a large group as the children waited a second and then quickly grabbed their starter gear and ran outside.
         Reginald sighed again, looking bewildered at his fellow instructor. "Jorgensen, I know that you have the power to Command, but sometimes it's not the best way to get your point across," He wasn't sure his words were heard, or just being ignored. Either way, the Marshal stepped with power and confidence out the door after the students. In the quiet of the room, Reginald looked to his notes, seeing all of the points he wasn't able to get to. At some point, a group of Scholars and Orators would be happy to join him in talking about history and the folly of the Ancients. He sat down, hoping that very few of the students would quit by the next time he would see them. Jorgensen wasn't known for being kind, or especially easy on anyone. He prepared for the older class he had coming by in a few hours, shuffling his notes, writing his thoughts on the current class of beginners, and grabbing the tomes and notebooks he would need later.

         The lesson may be over for now, but many tales can come from a land of wonder such as this. Maybe the boy Sunshine will have a story to tell, or a retelling of one of Jorgensen's old adventures, but we won't know until they surface from the Archmage's Will.