What kind of world
A land of old names, and three gods who came to them late.
The people of the Northern March tell it the same way: nothing changed, and then something did. The oldest accounts describe a long quiet century first — ledgers that balanced themselves, gates that opened for whoever carried the right mark, a forge that never went cold.
Then the gods began answering. Each one found a faith that already had more followers than temples, and settled into it. A new faith never arrives as a new faith: it arrives as a strand of the one you already keep, and it does not argue, it shows up. What came out the other side was a stranger cousin of an old religion, with its own saints, its own names for the same hills, and borders drawn where they had not been drawn before.
The people you meet are not hiding anything from you. They are arguing about the gods, the way their grandmothers did. The land is named the way the gods named it, and that is simply where everyone lives now.
Four ways in
A class is a job, not a rank. Each one changes what a fight is.
One line of country, five zones, levels one to sixteen. The road runs north and the levels rise with it. At the end of it something is still announcing a status change nobody asked for.
The first region
Haldor, the ash fen, the pine ridge, the ruin field, the river march.
One world
Everyone is in the same place. No instance to pick, no queue to join, no version of the world that only your friends can see.
Free movement
A stick or a keyboard, and a camera you steer. You go where you look. Combat is an area, not a target list.
No download
It is a page. Open it on a phone on a train, and the same world is there when you get home.
Yours to keep
Play as a guest. If you want your character to still be there next week, you make an account once, and nothing moves.