A Delegated Reality 

The endless landscape of the Ancestral Homeland is a lattice of circular realms whose edges touch, but never overlap. The single dragon who rules each circle determines its size, but the smallest of these designated regions is still hundreds of miles across. These dragons remain permanently isolated from all others. Dragons have sacrificed the society and cultural memory of their homeland in exchange for perfect control of reality and nigh limitless power over their Arcana. They have cut the cake and served it all. 

Each of the realms in the Ancestral Homeland mirrors the whim and sensibilities of its inhabitant. Chromatic dragons often furnish their reality to be lands of impossible peril for anyone but themselves. Metallic circles are usually idyllic, heavenly plains covered in majestic architecture and natural wonders. The nature of a dragon’s circle is under its perfect control, but this mastery comes at a price. No Ancestral Homeland dragon is capable of breaching their realm’s barrier by any means. No magic created by an Ancestral dragon functions within another’s circle. 

The space between three adjoining draconic circles is known as an Unclaimed Zone. These necessary gaps in creation are devoid of life, magic, and color; irregular tracts of gray sand and stone that are never walked by any dragon. Only their misbegotten creations, the goblins, can pass between draconic circles. 

Exaggerated Everything 

The laws of magic and nature are pliable in the Ancestral Homeland. A dragon’s mountain might be bloated with diamonds harder than any Beast World substance. Fire burns brighter and hotter. Magic manifests wider and stronger. All of these rules are set to the exact manner the dragon prefers. Rarely, a wyrm might create a muted circle where magic is impossible, or one where flames never ignite. If a dragon says that a fireball spell is a burst of flowers instead, it is so. 

The dragons themselves dwell in equally over-realized lairs. Impossible architecture and incomprehensible magic are common within these sanctums. The youngest Ancestral dragon was a wyrm before the inception of the Beast World; their mortality is wholly unknown. No Ancestral dragon has permanently died since the circles were formed. 

Beast World arcanists are uncertain about the exact nature of dragons’ power in the Ancestral Homeland. The prevailing theory is that dragons merged their cosmological selves with the Arcana of the Ancestral Homeland. In doing so, they solved their world with an irrevocable change to their nature. This separated each dragon, created their circles, and drove off the gods observing their world. 

Draconic Diaspora 

An ancient being’s complex mind is unpredictable. Some dragons were bored by the idea of immortality and infinite power. The prospect of remaining totally alone, without ever rearing children, drove them away. A few wyrms of every color left the Ancestral Homeland in the moments after its solving event, as the circles spread across the land and bound their families forever. This displaced smattering of dragons wandered the Astral Sea for a while, bickering about which direction to fly next. In the end, they happened upon the infant Beast World. 

These dragons were out of place; Pirhoua and the other gods were wary of powerful interlopers. To prevent the apocalyptic squabbles of these newcomers from ruining their new experiment, the gods hold dragons to most of the same natural laws. Dragons in the Beast World can rear whelps, and those whelps carry the afterimage of the Ancestral Homeland’s power. In exchange, Great Wyrms are forbidden from meddling too much in formative events of the Beast World. 

For Every Beast, a Dragon 

Curious things happen whenever a creature travels between worlds. When someone from the Beast World visits the world of draconic origin, some unknown variable predetermines their initial experience. Every willful creature, be they beast, brethren, or dragon, is innately tied to a specific circle of the Ancestral Homeland and always arrives there. 

This link is impossible to predict. Some beasts with utterly rotten souls have appeared in the lands of benevolent metallics. Even dragons hatched in the Beast World are entered into this cosmic lottery. Once they arrive, a Beast World native is free to travel as they wish, if they are lucky or prepared enough to dodge the ire of their host. 

“Every beast has a corresponding circle, and the link is random.” It was a settled issue. Then, a common thread appeared to the defeat of every cosmic model. Delving crews traveling to the Ancestral Homeland appear in the same circle ninety-nine times out of a hundred. No other common trait has been found, other than the group having previously visited the Dungeon together. 

Academia has no answers yet. 

Benefactors, Oppressors 

The Ancestral Homeland is no safer than any other parallel world. Without careful preparation, a beast or brethren runs the risk of immediate death in a chromatic wyrm’s cozy environment. Nevertheless, the potential rewards of wooing a draconic patron attract many intruders to the dragons’ home plane. 

Dragons who are bound to the Ancestral Homeworld are curious about the Beast World and the affairs of their descendents. Many are willing to trade some power in exchange for favors and information about places they cannot influence. To some dragons, this is born of benevolent curiosity and helpfulness. Chromatics, on the other hand, usually form pacts out of a spiteful hatred for anything they cannot possess or control. 

An Out of Hand Experiment 

Not long after locking themselves within their circles, dragons in the Ancestral Homeland grew restless. As willful creatures, the urge to recreate some part of themselves in offspring still remained. This pent-up reproductive drive hatched the last-known cooperative effort between dragons of every color. 

Dragons stood at the edge of their circles for a long time, plotting together. They flew at unreal speeds along the borders, sharing information and research, until the thesis was complete. This communal ritual was meant to circumvent basic cosmic physics and allow them to keep their power without compromise. The dragons wanted something simple, yet ultimately impossible: to create a willful life from nothing. 

Arcana alone fell short of recreating nature’s miracle, and the dragons failed to conjure a new generation. Instead, a cluster of creatures hopped off the table and scurried into the underground places of the Ancestral Homeland, totally out of their control. 

Dragons now shared their world with the in-born blue-skinned goblins. 

Tunneling Trillions 

Goblins wasted no time. They reproduced exponentially, spreading throughout their new home underneath the Draconic circles. The manner of their creation made them immune to their creators’ magic, but unable to use it themselves. They made up for their individual powerlessness with the two things their upstairs neighbors lacked: cooperation and sheer numbers. 

Goblins are creatures of instinct. They are born wearing a dragons’ color or metal in their scales, but metallic and chromatic goblins behave exactly the same. Everything in a goblin’s world falls into simple categories: goblins, things to eat, things to collect, and things in the way. 

Today, their tunnels and caverns are unknown thousands of miles across and their Ancestral Homeland population numbers in the tens of trillions. Their place among dragons is a mix of child, servant, victim, nuisance, student, friend, and food. 

A single goblin is clumsy, impatient, and vacant. However, the dragons’ attempt to create will through a back door blessed goblins with a psychic quirk unique in all the known universe. When they congregate to achieve the same goal, goblins become more than the sum of their parts. It’s a marvel to witness; when a hundred goblins build a tunnel, each is one part of a complex machine. One checks another’s work through pure instinct, and they enter a collective trance to meet any goal they set their minds to. 

One might think that goblins are connected in a hive mind, but it’s nothing so mundane. Wizards who have read a goblin’s thoughts while it is stacked with others have never heard an extra voice in its tiny head. Their stackable intellect works in places without magic, when blind or deaf, and even when they don’t know their compatriots are fellow goblins. They are simply created to work together. 

Goblin City 

Under all the Ancestral Homeland is Goblin City. This scavenged mega-metropolis is made of repurposed stones, improvised tunnels, and stacked buildings resting on precarious stilts and scaffolds. In some places, thousands of goblins swarm through crowded streets stacked on top of each other. Other parts of the city are wide-open caverns, with shinies excavated and holes forgotten. Their city is a yawning testament to their ceaseless drive to dig for interesting bits and bobs. 

The city lacks a culture or economy, per se, but it certainly has personality. Its residents are constantly bickering and lack the means to self-identify, which makes for a bizarre disorganization that has somehow flourished. With the help of materials gifted by—and stolen from—the dragons above, clusters of simple rectangular buildings grow into mind-boggling grids of goblin tenements, with little fried food eateries wherever they are needed in the moment. (Goblins love fried food.) 

Drakes 

At some point, an intrigued dragon reshaped a few goblins into something new. The resulting creature, called a “drake,” traded some of its already-scarce intelligence for a large quadrupedal body. Drakes are dog-like in intellect and temperament. Adults are roughly the size of a rhinoceros. 

Much like the goblins had before, this new creature soon escaped its creator’s home and joined its cousins underground. Now, they happily live as the goblins’ pets and beasts of burden. The Drake Tunnels connect different parts of the city and are a good shortcut for lost travelers. 

Neighbors 

Dragons chase away the boredom of omnipotence with goblins. They lend the creatures power and influence in exchange for meddling in their rival neighbors’ affairs. Some dragons collect goblins whose colors match their own or keep them as beloved companions. 

Evil dragons might attempt to rule the “district” of Goblin City under their circle by proxy, while others take simple delight in devouring the hapless thieves whenever they dare to show themselves. Good dragons take pleasure in sending goblins on prankster missions against their foes or attempting to understand why their tiny companions forget anything they’re taught.