Welcome to Gaia! ::

Hyjon's Rest It is less of a village than it is a ruin. There are no more than 30 stone structures here, mostly houses; each of them ramshackle and misshapen from sunken foundations and walls. Gray, grasping vines claw up their sides like mummified hands, mutant and trembling in the moaning wind that moves between the buildings.

There is but one paved road here; its cobblestones are cracked and split, but equally ragged wagons travel its trail. Their stop is always the tavern, a place no more put together than the houses around it. The sign that once hung from a post at its front now leaned against its narrow porch. Among it's peeling paint, only two of its three words can be managed.

T-e P-e-sant Omen

A haggard old man sits on the porch alone, watching the street with one hateful, glossy eye as he smokes from a long wicker pipe.

It smells of tar and manure here. There is no livestock to be seen. No cats or dogs that prowl the broken streets for scraps of food. They were eaten months ago.

In the distance, past a field of marshy hillocks topped with rusty brown grass there is something stark and shocking - brand new, gleaming in the rising sun. It's washed and chiseled stones fit together seamlessly to form a glowing tower; golden banners flapping triumphantly in the breeze. It was no more than 200 yards from Hyjon's Rest, yet it appeared to be in a world all it's own.

Weary eyes watched the newcomer with suspicious caution. Seeing no distinguishing marks of their current Tyranist, they turned back to their discussions. The bartender waved the young girl over with a grim look on his face.

"What's an outsider like you want with this cursed land?" the bartender growled as he finished wiping out a grimy glass. "If they catch ya, you're as good as dead."

Chatter in the room stopped completely at the mention of Arron's name. A couple tavern members removed their hats as well. "Aye, we know the name. Man helped keep a lot of our lot from ending up in that gleaming hell up the road. But those bastards..." Many people spat at the floor. "I'm sorry, lass, but your friend sits in the City of Swords."

The bartender chuckled darkly. "The City of Swords is the gleaming hell. Caer Benowyn is the domain of those evil bastards, The Swords of Salvation. They claim to march under Tyral's word, but do so in Pital's land. They murder scores of families. Men, women, children. They don't care. All under the guise of purifying our land."

The sunlight from outside started its slow fade. "You might wanna be on your way, lass. The men search the homes and our tavern just after dark to make sure we don't have any 'impurity' sleeping the night." He gave her a last long look. "And it would be a right shame to have you carted away."

"Hope you travel swift and safe," the bartender said as Lizzy departed. Outside, the faint sound of marching could be heard coming from the city up the hill. And it seemed to be getting closer...

A snorting sound shook the bush, causing a small male fae to buzz out of the bush. "A darkling hiding to ambush my brothers?! Prepare to prepare to perish!" he cried, a bolt of searing energy headed straight for Lizzy.

Fae Cleric

Rank D
1 str/ 13 spd

Bolt of Judgement
Rank C damage
Classic bolt, deals damage proportional to Cleric's rank, and one rank higher damage to all Dark or Unholy beings. Five post cooldown. (Kakuberno are alignment Dark)