Korrin’s Revelation:

Back in the Tribal Age of Aravon, when fake deities were worshipped and men
wielded blasphemous magic, Koroko was not yet known as Koroko, it was mostly
dominated by an uncountable number of small tribes, say for one, great nation. A
competitor for the oldest civilization of all time. They lived by a great river, and
dominated the most fertile lands in Koroko. Easily conquering all others who would
rise like them if left alone. Many tribes bordering the lands of this nation were either
subjugated, vassalised, enslaved, or spared to be used as mercenaries. Back in
those ancient times, there was a particular tribe, that was threatened by the ever
growing kingdom by the river, the ruler of the tribe wished to fight the impossible foe,
dying with pride rather than living. However, his son felt that his father was thinking
about his own pride, not that of the tribe. As such, one night, he entered his father's
tribe, binding his pitch black cloak around his head, leaving only his eyes visible.
With a dagger the son sliced his father's throat, and looked his father in the eyes as
he gurgled on his own blood. The son, taking leadership of the tribe, took his people
away from their ancestral land, tarnishing pride for survival. 'The mountains, we will
be safe in the mountains.' The son said, knowing that the kingdom by the river's
chariots would be useless in them. As he pushed his people ever onward, they grew
tired and resentful for the hardship their new leader brought them. Thus they stripped
him of his title, symbolised by them ripping his clothes off, leaving him naked on the
rocky ground of the desert mountains. The tribe turned back towards their ancestral
land. The son, however, pushed ever onward. 'Damn them all, let the carrions feast
on their corpses then' He searched for the highest of the mountain peaks. Not
abandoning the idea of absolute safety within the skies. Once he reached the peak,
he found a cavern, tired, he would spend the night there. During the night, he was
cold, and could not sleep, and he thought about all he accomplished, and realised,
he accomplished nothing. Contemplating suicide, a sudden gust of white mist
entered the cavern, filling the cavern with an otherworldly glow and warmth. When
the son was warm and comfortable. A voice spoke to him. A voice coming from
everywhere, and nowhere. Coming from inside his mind.
‘Stand, and leave the cavern.’ Having no reason to refuse, the son obeyed.
‘By strength of arm, you will climb to the peak.’ The son was confused at this, was he
not at the peak already? Then, a realisation dawned upon him. Moving to the edge
of the cavern, he could see the mountain, reaching higher. Clearly not meant for any
mortal to reach, however, the voice spoke again, listening to the son’s thoughts.
‘With spilled blood, torn skin, broken nails, and screams, you will reach the top.
Where I await.’
The son laughed to himself, it was then that he knew he had lost his sanity, obeying
the voice in his own head. Still, with nothing to lose, and more to gain from listening
to his insanity, he started to climb. As the voice told him, his skin was torn as it slid
upon the rocks, blood covered all fingers and toes, and the nails barely held on. And
the screams were so loud his throat felt like it was being pierced by knives.
Eventually. The now delirious son, reached the peak. And it was there that he saw
nothing. Looking behind him, to his right, to his left, forward. Nothing. He closed his
eyes, and shouted in rage towards the skies. But it was when he opened his eyes,
still pointed upwards, that he saw Him. A gigantic, ghostly shape, covering the entire
sky, looking down on the small human, who stared at his white eyes of flame with as
much awe as terror. It was the God Korrok. A cloak of stars and the night covered
most of his face, say for the eyes. His body was made of desert heat and sand of
gold. ‘Well done.’ Korrok spoke.
‘I am Korrok, I am this land, from the heat to the deserts, from the mountains to the
rivers. All was mine, and will be mine again.’
The mouth of the son opened, but no words left it. He knew what he wanted to ask
but could not speak.

‘You will do that for me. And you will rule this land and all the people in it, for you
have been chosen by me to rule.’

‘All who oppose you, oppose me. All who oppose me, oppose you.’
After that, one of Korrok’s gigantic fingers moved down towards the son. Moving as if
to crush him. Instead, it stopped instantly from the first moment of touch. And an
explosion of golden light filled the peak. Like a temporary sun, lighting all of Koroko
for a mere moment. Letting everyone know, that their rightful ruler, ordained by the
heavens themselves, has come. After the flash, the son was clad in intricate cloaks
of white, gold and black. he felt armour pressed against his skin, covered by the thick
mass of cloaks that did not weigh as much as one would expect, and his eyes were
like lumps of sunlit gold. The cloaks were also wrapped around his face, the same
way as how he donned them when he murdered his own father, and how his divine
patron wore them.

‘You will forget your past, you are reborn, and have been granted my blood. And your
name will be Korrin, son of Korrok. Whether by word or sword, you will make
everyone in these lands know of me. And worship me.’