The clouds were dark.

They seemed to emphasize, and further inflame, Kyonis's sullen disposition. He had been here so long... and yet he was no further to attaining his goals than he had been when he had first arrived. He had come to avenge the murder of his parents. So far, Kyonis did not even have a description, much less a name, of the murderer. All Kyonis knew is that his parents were killed somewhere here on Imythess.

Instead of aspiring to these goals, Kyonis had instead been preoccupied with survival. He had taken the first job that Kyonis had thought he could possibly fulfill, that of a healer, and had found that no one needed healing. The job paid so little that Kyonis could hardly afford a meal a day. His stomach was growling so often it seemed part of Kyonis environment, to hear and feel the churning of hunger in his belly. Kyonis's only other skill was that of escaping, and what good did that do to a free man?

Kyonis sat upon the gnarled branch of a thick tree, it's roots imbedded deeply in the soft muck that eventually led to The Haunted Marsh. As far as Kyonis could tell, he was somewhere in between The Haunted Marsh and the Forests. He really didn't care anymore. What matter was it where he was? Everywhere Kyonis went he was hungry. Everywhere Kyonis went he was lost. Everywhere Kyonis went he was useless. However, perhaps worst of all, it seemed everywhere Kyonis went he was lonely.