Act 2

Talistay

In the land of Faerie, on a craggy outcrop of black basalt that rises majestically from the sea and connected to the mainland by a vast drawbridge called the Wyrmgate, sits the city of Talistay.

Its once-shimmering spires and turrets - now weathered and worn - remain a faded relic to a once-glorious period in its history.

The ruined battlements that once stood proudly defiant against attack, now lay in a mess of crumbled stone - deserted when it was razed to the ground by dragon fire over a thousand years ago.

The Baleful Ditch which encircled the city had been cruelly overrun with an impenetrable tangle of brambles, hogweeds and thorns. Now, it was home only to the long-dead warriors who had laid down their lives to protect it; whose bones now lay resting, scattered in the shadows here and there amongst the trees and fields or hidden quietly tucked away somewhere with the mouldering moss and the noisome weeds of Faerie.

The late evening sky had turned a vivid shade of purple and the ocean waves had stilled.

The quick tempered wind that before had whipped the long grass had now died to become an imperceptible breeze, and with that breeze came a feeling of unearthly calm which descended on the whole area.

Not a bird chirped or tree rustled.

In fact it was all rather strange - it was as if there had been a change in the weather.

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