It is springtime. The sun rises over an infinity of glittering seas, punctuated by the islands which form the only known land masses on the planet: the archipelago of Kyasor. Nysthera rises from the crashing waters like a fortress planted into the ocean itself, monolithic. Aiacus climbs lazily into the sky, its steep mountain range flanked by rolling hills and low fields which end eventually in endless stretches of rocky beaches. A blood-red moon hovers over the southern horizon. A wrinkled hag, bent-over with age, grinds herbs in the shadow of a massive hemlock.

You are Tiryn. You are a member of a race steeped in history, conflict, and magic. You live in a city teeming with culture; flourishing arts, evolving sciences, political allegiances and bloody games which set apart the Great from the lowly. Your own unique talents flow through you, strengthened by the Aesir and by your very will, growing stronger through each quest, each battle, each discovery. Seek out your fate.