SKYEND CONTINENT, TERRA
Bloody stag tavern, filled with smoke and loud noises, where men loudly swore and laughed, where the smell of liquor overwhelmed the nosebuds, where sailors drowned themselves in liquor, there sat a man. Covered in a long robe with a hood, with his broad back the only sight exposed, his face no different from darkness itself and only identifiable by the cross sigil on his forehead. To those around him, he seemed like an enigma, a man who did not belong, but truly this enigma was simply flustered at where he was. A man from earth, a true office worker all his life, working 9-5 everyday, had just returned home from work. Frustrated at how the day had gone for him, too tired to even change his clothes,he had only plopped down on his bed in the one-bedroom flat he called home when all of a sudden, his roof caved and fell upon him, instantly crushing his skull.
It had happened so fast and painless, and now, just as he opened his eyes here, only to find himself in a body that obviously didn't belong to him. Raising his arm, he saw his skin so dark he was sure it wasn't his. He looked down on his clothes to recognize that this was not the clothes he wore to work and still didn't fit in the society he lived in. Looking around him, he could see the coarse men raving and shouting, the smell of liquor so strange and yet so familiar to him. The dim flicker of oil lamps cast long shadows on him, faintly illuminating his gloved hands cradling a tankard of untouched ale. "Deep breaths, take a deep breath", he muttered as deep in his mind, but deep within, all he really wanted to do was scream his head out at how absurd everything was. Bending down to sip a bit of the ale, he whinced and squeezed his face at how bitter the taste was, using all his strength to sip in the bitter and yet so familiar taste of ale which he could swear he had never tasted before in his life.
A barmaid, her apron stained with ale and grease, approached cautiously, sensing the man's squeezed face."Need a refill, sir?" she asked, her voice cutting through the din. He shook his head, the motion slight but deliberate, and she retreated without pressing further.Whispers began to ripple through the tavern as sharper-eyed patrons noticed him. Was he a mage, hiding from the Elysium's enforcers? A bounty hunter tracking some poor soul in the crowd? Or perhaps one of the fabled Seekers, those who hunted the lost relics of Terra's ancient gods?relics of Terra's ancient gods?
The man's stillness was broken only once, when a drunken sailor stumbled too close, knocking over a chair. The hooded figure's hand shot out, steadying the sailor with a grip that was both gentle and unyielding. The sailor muttered an apology, oblivious to the faint crackle of energy that sparked at the point of contact. Those nearby who saw it fell silent, their laughter dying as they exchanged uneasy glances.
What was he doing here, in this den of vice and noise? Skyend was a land of opportunity and danger, where empires clashed and forgotten magics stirred..