Welcome to Gaia! ::

Tall, green trees stretch as far as the eye can see. The rich, earthy smell of the tiny, oblong fruit dangling from many of them, permeates the still, morning air.

Branches snap and crunch as a slender, horned stallion marches through jungle. Incongruous to the ash gray sky that peeks through the occasional break in the canopy, overhead, his coat is sky blue, like a seamless blanket of lace agate. He holds his head high--with a smile--and moves with purpose, whether it’s over mossy rocks and gnarled roots or under snaking vines and pungent fruit.

The dense foliage opens up as he enters a significant clearing. He pauses for a moment to consider a small, auburn, leather bound book. It's ratty, yellowed pages are covered with washed out notes, rough, unfinished drawings, and the current object of his interest: a crude map. Well, half of a map, anyhow. The stallion spreads the map and journal out on the grass in front of him. A broken line slithers back and forth across the page, leading to several landmarks, before terminating ultimately with a shaky red “>” at its ragged, torn edge. Unfortunately for Calaeron, the first half of his path has been exhausted; he has arrived at the final landmark featured on his portion of the map.

After reviewing the map for another second he glances about. “Hmm.” The universal sound of uncertainty, he muses taking in the unfamiliar scene. “Not what I was expecting.” What was he expecting, anyhow?

It was a glorious, sunny day, just the other day, when Calaeron found the journal. He was taking a leisurely stroll on his favourite, secluded beach: just relishing a luxurious zephyr as the hot, dry sand warmed his paws and tickled his ankles. When suddenly, he happened upon an unusual sight: the broken remains of a foreign ship. Not that he has encountered many humans, but rather, he has always been bold and has seen much of the local’s woodwork and water craft. The contraption, that this was, is nothing like anything he has seen before. A massive construct of stained wood and metal. It must've carried a ridiculous burden and he just couldn't help himself; he had to have a closer look.

As evidenced by the abnormally abundant, fresh detritus and debris, a terrible storm had recently visited this area. No doubt, the unfortunate vessel had been driven off course and was sundered on the rocky shoals just off coast. The scene was largely evacuated of both men and treasure, except for one intriguing item. Under a section of wide, heavy planks, he found this book. It was crushed and missing pages, but obviously significant. With no other signs of intelligent life nearby, he liberated the small tome from the scene.

Waking from his reverie, Calaeron idly paces a few feet toward the center of the clearing. He hadn't had reason to venture this far into the jungle before. So many new things to see. He stops to examine a particularly large, yellow striped flower. “Why don’t the trees grow here?” He wonders inhaling the strange plant’s sweet aroma.