This is a tale about a world long ago. Before Prontera was a bustling metropolis. Before the War of the Witch and Comodo's colonization. Before Al De Baran was even dreamed of. The city of Glast Heim was the capital; beautiful and stately, with gorgeous fountains and flower gardens all around. Not far from Glast Heim was the Tower of Geffen, a fortress for those who wished to study the anti-physical. To the north were the mines, rich in ore and precious stones, a maze of tunnels snaking through the pristine Mt. Mjolnir. To the south, an expansive desert, dotted with oasis. A beach ran along the southern shore, curling up around the eastern side of Rune-Midgard. It is near this beach, that our story takes place, in the beautiful uplands town of Payon.
Payon was seen as the frontier by the people of Glast Heim. It kept a tribal system as well as a class system, but one tribe reigned over all others. It was quite complicated, and small civil wars were not uncommon. However, Payon was typically a peaceful town, beautiful and lush, set like a glittering emerald in the crown of the forest.
During one particularily strange summer in Rune-Midgard, demons began rustling in the underworld. The tiny inn and toolshop known as Prontera was burned to the ground more than once. News leaked from the south, of strange beings wandering the desert and the marshes near the sea. In Payon, at the temple, a horrific being awakened one night and nearly destroyed the entire city. Only by chance was the demon imprisoned under a statue from where it had come, but the damage had been done; many people were forced out of their homes just as autumn was setting in.
In the winter after the demon woke, Payon was besieged by both terrible snowstorms and cold, and a violent plague. Most of those wounded by the demon were struck down; children were especially susceptible, as well as some adults. Even the palace was not safe, as we shall see, for that is where my story really begins.