There is a land to the south east, called “Atraxia” in the tongue of the western men; it means “The Calm Land”.  And so it was, this long time ago. All that traveled there reported a place that imbued tranquility into your very bones. The Dragonborn that lived there enjoyed a prosperity unheard of and multiplied greatly, led by their mighty king and his advisors, the five great houses or the "Quint'rath"

But this all changed during the First Cataclysm. That explosive force that corrupted the life force of the very earth. This sickness spread and rotted through the whole of Atraxia, the heartlands of the Draconic people. Slowly began to grow a massive canyon in the South that plunged deep into the earth. Growing each day, this voracious canyon swallowed houses, farms, and even towns. But this was merely the beginning, the corruption spread throughout the land, choking out the crops and the livestock. Worse still, the corruption seemed to affect even the people who lived there as they became short tempered and obsessed, many even falling deathly ill.

Least of those to fall ill was the king of Atraxia. The king had reigned for one-hundred and forty-three years of peace but became terribly sick. In his place the rulership of Atraxia turned over to the five. Without the king's leadership, however, the council fell prey to infighting and desperation for power. Things deteriorated for decades until the King's eventual passing. Many speculate as to where the heir to the king, his only son, disappeared to but his absence certainly made things only more tumultuous.

The brightest scholars of Atraxia pleaded with the great houses to act to find the source of the corruption that had taken her king ceaselessly. But by the time the council united their opinions and headed this warning, it was too late. Fearsome monsters began to rise out of the land in droves. The brilliant and valiant defenders of Atraxia braved these hordes, but a force without number cannot be fought, only slowed. With no end to the cruel and overwhelming invaders, the warriors ceded ground over and over again.

Running out of territory and men, the Five Houses made a decision to elect an unimpeded ruler of the nation in stead of the heir. A warrior king, a steward of the nation and against the monsters, the Warden. Thus the Warden and his Atraxian Protectorate became the stewards and governors of Atraxia. Never again would their people suffer on account of slowness to act. The inaugural Warden sought to secure his people a place to live first and foremost. With the brightest minds still breathing, he constructed floating islands free of the corruption of the lands below. But it was a paltry comparison to the lands his people once enjoyed, and they all longed greatly. The crown of the Warden King passed from generation to generation and the Dragonborn people swore to defend the rest of Initia from this cruel fate they had suffered.

But the hatred of their enemy began to poison their souls and minds, turning the lifelong defenders into isolated and spiteful people. This gave rise to the misconception that the monsters in the southeast are the very people that once lived there in harmony. In response to this ingratitude, the gates to Atraxia were closed off. To visitors and to aid, an oath of bitter solitude, for the sake of all others.

In these days, all the males of Atraxia that are of age pledge themselves to eternal service to the Warden at his discretion. This, for most men, means a life of war against the ever growing monsters that almost exclusively culminates in death. For some it means arming and supporting those very warriors. For a select few it involves commerce, governance, or the myriad other needs the nation requires. Atraxia groans under the weight of war forever imposed on her shoulders, ever resentful, begging for relief.