The archipelago of Agarthia had long seen conflict. If the western island of Chordia didn't have two nations fighting for land, then the eastern island of Bolchia did.
Chordia was split into nine separate nations, while Bolchia was split into five. Between the two main islands lie the island nation of Yuan, which practically monopolized trade between the two due to its geographical position intercepting them.
In the far East of the nation of Carth on the Bolchia side, in the small hamlet of Coibrada, temporarily resided the restless draconian Marcus.
Marcus had always been protective of those he cared about, and quick to defend his friends. Well... if he had any. It felt like any time he'd start to develop any friendships, they'd always leave the village to go off on some adventure and discover themselves.
But Marcus wasn't ready to leave just yet - he may have some skill with a blade, but he wasn't too terribly confident in his ability to avoid danger. He always felt clumsy and accident prone - but Coibrada was starting to get boring and stifling.
Maybe there was some simple job he could take to the nearby village of Pinhanivega? He knew if he didn't get out of town, he'd go stir-crazy from walking the same town borders every day. Militia work wasn't usually the most rewarding - and it's not like there was any real danger around anyways. The villagers could survive without him.
He thought about what he'd need to pack, but ever since he'd joined up with the militia, he'd been sleeping out of the small little guardhouse they'd had built way back when the hamlet was new.
He still had the simple hand-me-down leather armor that he'd had to manually adjust for his frame from the last guard who had retired when he'd joined. He also still had his basic iron sword he'd cobbled up enough militia pay to afford the last time a traveling peddler had stopped by.
Technically, militia were given lances, but they always felt unwieldy and impractical in a real scuffle. It was hard to threaten a violent drunk with a big stick that you don't have room to swing or stab with indoors.
He could probably scrounge up some field rations, but he'd have to rely on his paltry savings after that, so he'd have to make sure he was picking up enough work. He grimaced - the pay here wasn't great, but at least the food and bed were guaranteed.
Maybe he'd be able to find information about his birth parents? Draconians weren't terribly common around these parts, but he'd heard mention of lizard-folk in Xi-Anc on the western coast of Bolchia. They weren't necessarily related, as draconians didn't really have a nation to themselves, but it'd be a place to start.
It was said that draconians were usually the product of dark magic interfering with natural dragon eggs - since humanoid dragons were supposed to be easier to train and could be outfitted with powerful weapons to further augment their natural physical prowess.
Marcus grimaced. He might never learn who his biological parents are. Or if there was someone who changed his fate. Maybe he was stolen. His parents could be long dead.
He stopped and took a deep breath. But he'd never find out by staying here. It was time to find out who he really was. And just maybe, find somewhere he felt like he belonged.