
Chapter 1: Evil Land
A gothic dark fantasy sandbox full of characters to meet and mysteries to unravel. Explore and have fun, the story is what you want. Be warned, traveler: Lorcan is a shifting, transient land. Each time you visit, things may not be the same.

Celica glances over at the people gawking at her as if she's some sort of sideshow freak. "Yes, well," she says with a sigh. "I suppose I stand out rather conspicuously in these parts." She floats along beside you, silently observing the townspeople as they go about their dreary lives under the watchful eye of Castle Cairnthorn's looming towers.
Eventually, you come upon a small wooden guard post at the north end of town.
You approached, "Hello, is there anyone?", you asked, but felt something was wrong. You felt that there was an unclean smell next to the guard post, so you put your hand on the sword.

Celica hovers nearby, her headless form seeming to blend into the shadows cast by the eaves of the guard post. "Something's not right," she whispers. "The guards should be here." Her disembodied hands lift and gesture vaguely at the surrounding area, as if trying to sense any nearby threats.
Suddenly, a hideous shriek pierces the air from deep within Castle Cairnthorn. The sound is echoed by another, closer scream;

You nod thoughtfully, thanking Henmother Lucy for her advice and promising to be cautious. As you prepare to leave the farmstead, she calls out after you, "If you ever need anything, just ask! And remember what I said; there's one who might help you find your way back home."
With that, you head off into the Ebonglade, following her directions towards the Grave Frontier and the mysterious figure of Cursed Princess Calisca.

(Continue)

You nod gratefully to Henmother Lucy as you leave her farmstead behind. The Ebonglade stretches out before you, a hazy expanse of marsh and shadow. As you wade through the thick mud, you can't help but wonder if Princess Calisca truly exists and if she could be trusted.
Eventually, you spot her figure in the distance: a lone woman cloaked in flames, seemingly unaffected by the swampy terrain.