image of adventurers facing a ruined castle on a mountain

Welcome to Skazka

A land forged in myth, ruled by mystery, and whispered about in forgotten tongues. Here, ancient creatures stir beneath moonlit forests, and the stars themselves bleed secrets into the night. This is no place for the faint of heart.

Within these cursed realms, every tale is a trap, every wonder a warning. Yet those brave enough to adventure here may uncover lost legends, forbidden magic, and truths too terrible to remain buried.

Enter the dream then, if you dare — for stories don't always have happy endings.

image of a little girl thief

The Thief

Back where the soldier began his journey, the streets of Calarium are choked with the dust from passing horses and carts. A small child weaves through a crowd of merchants and soft skinned gentry. Spotting her mark, she approaches confidently. With practiced ease she feigns a trip and bumps into the unsuspecting gem cutter. With an apology she pushes away from the man, but not empty handed. The concealed blade in one hand has liberated a purse of its strings. Stepping casually away from the crowd she slips into a darkened alleyway to assess her work. Only five gold coins. Not bad, but not enough to get her to Ku'Than. That will have to wait, for now.

image of a young witch with a fairy in a bottle

The Witchling

A three week journey away the beggar's sister stifles in the humidity of Ku'Than's forested canopy. Insects constantly gnaw at her ankles and the sweat stings her eyes. Her companion, a small white owl, hoots impatiently. She bends down to retrieve the bottle that is the focus of her task. Inside, a tiny winged creature flutters and bashes the glass in frustration, its lips mouthing silent curses. The Witchling wonders what will become of the fairy; her mistress and mentor is oft cruel. "I won't be like that when I'm a full witch", she tells herself.

The Warlord

A lone adventurer steps off the longboat that has taken him to the necropolis of Dargav. The aging jetty creaks underfoot and the forest seems to mimic the sound. A crow lands on a nearby branch to judge the visitor. It caws, perhaps in approval? Clutching the urn he has brought here, the warrior takes a deep breath and steps forward. This place is hallowed so he must tread carefully.