Stories from the Vale

 Wstęp do RPG-owej historii którą tworzę dla moich smoków. Wymagany jest język angielski i nie przewiduję tłumaczeń.
An introductory piece I invented for my dragon RP. This series is gonna be in English.

The Vale
The Vale is bordered by high mountains to the south, and a plateau to the north, while it's only slightly lower than the eastern plains. Craggy outcrops form a hundreds of miles long barrier between the more cyvilised southern areas and the harsher northern lands. The mountain range turns south-east just at the eastern edge of the valley, opening it to the inland steppes of the continent. Formed by two large riversmeeting at the northernmost point, it forms a triangle of warm, moist and fertile land standing against it's harsh neighbourhood - arid steppes to the east and cold, barren wilderness of the north.
Accessible only through the riverbed and marshes from the north and from wild uninhabited steppes from the east, the place remained untouched by human hand for thousands of years. It's lush forests and grassy meadows with abundance of water attracted large numbers of animals to thrive in the mild climate, lacking any large predators apart form a wandering mountain bear now and then. It's been only recently that scouts and trappers form the couth breached the mountains and started to spread the word of paradise existing in the, otherways uninviting, northern land.
Still, not many were brave enough to leave everything they knew and loved behind and enterprise a dangerous journey. The first group of daredevils decided to enter the dragon's domain to the west attempting an easier, but more risky,  route through lesser mountains. They've never been heard of since. After a second party, led by an experienced dwarven mountaneer, disappeared on their alternate route through the higher mountain pass, further attempts were not endavoured. Most people started to doubt the existence of the Vale, and distrust the scouts as confabulating, or even accuse them of some pact with evils lurking in the wilderness and trying to lure poople to their doom.
Several years have passed until one day an alarm was ringed in one of the southern villages of an approaching dragon. Men armed with bows and torches gathered in front of their abodes trying to scare the creature away, but it circled above their heads and chose to land in the fields just behind the houses. To their surprise, villagers running to protect their crops were stopped by a man who claimed he rode the dragon back from behind the mountains to let it be known the long forgotten party of adventurers found their way across the mountains and setted in a friendly environment.
As hard to believe as it was, the settlers seemingly found a way to tame dragons and use them at their services. Since that day, the Vale is no longer cut off the civilised world and messengers mounted on dragons go there and back again, maintaining trade and sometimes even bringing brave souls willing to try their luck in the new world. The custom of picking abandoned dragon eggs and helping them hatch and grow spread worldwide, enabling people to inhabit territories not accesible to them before.

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