After a long day of slaughtering horrendous Fyakkis, gluttonous Ruxuses, and deadly Muck Flys, there’s nothing like coming back to a cozy place called home.
Or perhaps you are not the heroic (some might call mad) adventurer that you brave out and destroy all evil. No, perhaps you are the man (or woman!) behind the buildings, the one who sharpens the blades, melds the armors, and stitches the cloth. Perhaps you build impassive walls, bridges and homes, fortresses and decorations made out of the skulls of your enemy. Perhaps you stitch the banners of the living races.
Whatever it is that you do, all the Gifted share one thing: Home is where your heart is, or so they say. But home is the place to rest and relax, get a lovely night’s sleep.
Only that once you finally close your eyes, after wandering in the Eastern Deadlands for eighteen days without sleep, without food, and without your guard being down, your nights are only the beginning of your nightmares. You almost forgot that a peaceful night’s of sleep is not a luxury the Gifted can enjoy. No, in your sleep, in your dreams, the battles continue to rage on.
Often you find yourself awakening in the middle of the night, your night gown drenched in cold sweat. You quickly realize Fafnir severing your arms and legs was just a dream. And yet, you could have sworn the pain felt real.