Ulrafen. A canopy of leafless trees hangs about these endless marshlands, that stretch as far as the eye could see. Settlements are cut off from one another, few and inbetween. Truly, the only reason one would stay in this land is to make a measly living either through processing the abundance of fine-quality clay that can be found about, or to house the ones on their way from here to there. Ulrafen's small, sleepy hamlets seem to die at nighttime, because despite the muddy islets that permeate this place being numerous, hazards abound, especially during these hours, from pits of quickmud, to snappers, to much worse. Indeed, a nightly traveler may not get the chance to view the next sunrise. It is there, in one of the larger villages, Asanthorne, that our story takes place.
Asanthorne has seen better days, that is for certain. The village, which earned its' name by the briars and dry, tangled vines that surrounded it like a natural barricade, was suffering from heavy decline. Fish were becoming more scarce as time went on, and trade was not in a better state. Outsiders, both merchants and those seeking a place to spend a few nights had also thinned in numbers. The worst part, however were the rumors. Rumors of strange hooded figures wandering about after dusk, muttering in strange tongues. Noone knows from where they come or where they go, yet some of Asanthorne's more superstitious folk blame the mysterious figures for the disappearance of a local child. Still, such stories are dismissed, in broad daylight, but return in hushed whispers in the village's few remaining stores and taverns.
Yet, in an evening much like any other, change and revelation was about to befall small Asanthorne...
Asanthorne has seen better days, that is for certain. The village, which earned its' name by the briars and dry, tangled vines that surrounded it like a natural barricade, was suffering from heavy decline. Fish were becoming more scarce as time went on, and trade was not in a better state. Outsiders, both merchants and those seeking a place to spend a few nights had also thinned in numbers. The worst part, however were the rumors. Rumors of strange hooded figures wandering about after dusk, muttering in strange tongues. Noone knows from where they come or where they go, yet some of Asanthorne's more superstitious folk blame the mysterious figures for the disappearance of a local child. Still, such stories are dismissed, in broad daylight, but return in hushed whispers in the village's few remaining stores and taverns.
Yet, in an evening much like any other, change and revelation was about to befall small Asanthorne...
