Eyes catch upon the vast expanse of land that drops suddenly to an enormous crater, a deep circle of land littered with rotting corpses of horses and decaying foliage. A light mist seems to trickle over the barren earth, leading your eye to an almost eerily thick forest. The proceeding land, sculpted between a valley lies a glade rolling with thick trees that grow closer on either sides of the valley. Towards the heart the glade begins to decline, cast any hope of light into deep shadow. The whispers of something sinister, almost a bewitching chant roll across the Crypt like a breeze. Their voices are ghastly and wicked as they speak in ways that one cannot easily decipher. Tombstones, broken and scattered, become frequent toward the entrance to the underground chambers. They turn sharply to the right before branching off into a labyrinth of chambers, corridors serpentine in manner. Skeletons of various unknown creatures line the walls and nearly cover the floor of the corridors until each pathway opens to a level underground chamber.


continued...

Goddess: Drogora

For those disenchanted souls who wish to end their mortal lives and begin the afterlife anew, this echoing cavern is where the threshold to death is crossed. The God's are summoned by a simple phrase, and as the conversion from living to dead to ghost proceeds, a small stone is formed and tossed amongst the piles that continuously line the walls. This crystallized soul is your life source now, and the only way you can be killed is by the breaking of this stone. Be sure to guard it well and not allow the living to cross into the threshold. For those of you who would plot rebellion, the locations of Halifax and Drogora's stones are unknown.

These lands are infested with an ominous darkness; the sun shines warily upon the savanna, reaching with tentative rays to grace the surprisingly docile plains. Gnarled trees spread greedily over head, reaching for the little water and sunlight there is. Sparse, sickly green leaves manage to cling to the rough bark of the skeletal branches. The grasses below, often dry and brown, grow to unimaginable heights - sometimes reaching to an equines chest. The rocky, grassy lands reside nearest to the ocean. Rather than the cliffs spreading below the lands and descending, they grow above much like glaciers or mountains - ascending - and as the sun rises, it is barely noticed until late noon. This is gives the landscape a sense of perpetual darkness.


Lead Stallion:
Lead Mare: Valdis