Lightbearers are a faction in AFK Arena. They are heroes who serve in the name of Dura. They mainly fight with Hypogeans, Maulers, and Graveborns. Their main goal is to restore the land of Esperia from evil.
Ascended Tier Heroes
Legendary+ Tier Heroes
Common Tier Heroes
"The Lightbearers have always sought immortality, and even more so since mastering the use of magic."
Lightbearers are made up of mostly human beings but can include other races like dwarves. Lightbearers are the most technologically advanced faction in Esperia, compared to the other faction.
Lightbearers have the strongest affinity towards magic than any other faction. Some like Mirael practise elemental magic while others like Lucius and Belinda possess divine magic of the Holy Light.
They are also the most dedicated worshippers and followers of Dura and strive to rid Esperia of evil, particularly the Hypogeans.
On the World Map, Ranhorn City is the starting point of the campaign.
"Ranhorn City. The ancestral home of the Lightbearers was once the most prosperous and bustling city in the realm until the Hypogeans emerged from the Barred Gate and set their covetous sights on it. Since falling into the hands of the demons, the city shambles along in ruins. The people of Ranhorn await liberation from their cruel overlords."
On the World Map, Maldan is the former Kingdom of the Dwarves.
"Castle Maldan rest at the foot of The Oromouth Highlands. Once a place thriving with commerce, it now stands as a lonely monument to yesteryear. Though now abandoned, Castle Maldan once sat upon fertile, green fields, woven together by a crisscross of rivers and lakes. However, with the arrival of the Hypogean invaders, the mountain was plunged into its coldest winter in over a millennium. The walls of Castle Malden froze overnight. King Asgan, king of the dwarves, had no choice but to abandon his frigid throne and lead his people to safety."
The Gallant Three
|Use 3 Heroes||Use Three of the following: Elite+||Use Three of the following: Legendary+|
DEF + 10%
The mood in the encampment was light. Despite the hardships that they knew lay ahead of them, the soldiers were smiling, laughing, trading stories and jests. The fire burned merrily, sending a pillar of smoke funneling into the night sky, the sparks from the flame joining the cold light of the stars before winking out. It was only a short time ago, a few miles off, that they had watched thick pillars of smoke not so different from this one under very different circumstances. The battle with the forces of evil had been bitter and hard fought, but they had prevailed and pushed the enemy back by twenty miles. Even as the men sang and drank, the armies they’d routed were regrouping and adjusting their strategies.
Angelo took in the scene around him. He smiled, feeling the warmth from his canteen of wine spread through his limbs. He had seen these very same men who now seemed so cheerful and harmless fight ruthlessly against a terrifying foe. He had seen the fear and anger in their eyes as their brothers in arms fell around them. He had seen them kill. Every one of these simple, everyday people had risen to a challenge beyond what any of them would have believed possible. Angelo was inspired. He loosened the strings on a bag, and pulled out a lyre. He thought momentarily about the right song for the occasion. Within moments he was plucking out a moving melody, and he began to sing. The men quieted their boasts and jests, turning to listen. The song was one Angelo had composed, taking bits of folklore and bending them to rhyme. The song told the story of Morvus, the dwarven marksman. His feats of daring and marksmanship had reached a near-legendary status. The song was also better chosen than even Angelo realized, as at that moment, unbeknownst to him, Morvus himself sat and listened.
Just away from the warmth of the fire, In the darkness beside a tent, he closed his eyes and frowned. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed hearing these old stories. The memories of the events that inspired the tales and songs weren’t as sweet as a casual listener might imagine. The people in the taverns and town squares who liked to tell these tales and who would listen with rapt attention hadn’t seen the other side of the things that had happened. The blood, the pain, the sacrifice. He grasped his musket, resting his weight on it and sinking the stock into the soft dirt. He would keep fighting, like he always had, but he wouldn’t relish it like he used to. He’d already seen it for what it really was. He lifted his head and stared into the reflection of the firelight on the barrel of his weapon. How many of these men would be inspired to new heights of courage from hearing of his exploits? How many of them would die when they did that? He spat into the dirt. No way for a dwarf to think. No way for a dwarf to act, over here sulking in the shadows. He gathered his wits and stood.
As Angelo neared the end of his tune, the flap to a large nearby tent was pulled back by a rough hand. Several of the soldiers stood at attention, and even those too deep in their cups to manage standing offered a sloppy salute. It was Hogan, a knight and the general of the forces of the frontier. Though he had a reputation for being unforgiving and stern, he was respected and admired by the men he commanded. They knew that their lives and the lives of their loved ones depended on his stoic pragmatism. Tonight, however, was different. The men had scored a victory and gained ground. They deserved a night to relax and let go of their cares. They had risked their lives and made it through to the other side and were happy simply to be still be among the living. Besides, morale was as important to an army as weapons or food. A man holding a lyre and a tankard of ale approached. This must be the nobleman, Angelo. The man offered the tankard and confirmed Hogan’s suspicion.
“Commander Hogan. An honor to meet you. I’ve been hoping to find you. I’d like to compose a song detailing your deeds here…”
“The honor is all mine. I heard you singing and wanted to thank you for coming here and lending your support.”
Hogan looked over Angelo’s shoulder as he spoke, focusing on a figure standing at the edge of the firelight, then leveled his gaze back to the bard.
“Did you write the lyrics to that song?
“Yes, I’ve always been fond of the tales of Morvus”
“Did you happen to see a dwarf here among us? A dwarf with a musket?”
“Yes but surely you don’t mean…”
Morvus stepped up beside him.
“Alright, Hogan. Just tell the boy. I’m Morvus. Yeah. That Morvus. I hope you don’t believe everything you heard in those stories.”
Angelo was almost too surprised to speak.
“But… some of it must be true, isn’t it?”
“Most of it, actually. That was a long time ago and it was a very different person who did those things. I was arrogant and reckless, and I’m never going to be that person again.”
He stared hard at the ground.
“That’s all over though. Tonight, we’re alive and in one piece.”
He grabbed a tankard and hoisted it in the air.
“Men! A toast! To victory!”
|Use 2 Heroes||Use Two of the following: Elite+||Use Two of the following: Legendary+|
Estrilda would often sneak out into the formerly stately garfens surrounding the Rayne estate. They had been in a state of disrepair for some time. She would play with her elder brothers and cousins, but those brothers and cousins, the boys anyway, had all perished in a battle that was catastrophic for House Rayne.
Sometimes in big groups. The voices of those children had long been blown away. Estrilda marveled that the condition of her family had come to match that of the garden.
He stood at the center of the garden near a dry fountain. Thane. His single arm held ready for the sword strapped to his waist. "Teacher!" She bounced toward him, waving with rapid little motions. He gave her a curt nod and unsheathed his blade.
Estrilda drew her own in response automatically. She wasn't conscious of the steel leaving its sheath. They began to spar, filling the unkempt gardens with the ringing of blades. Every evening they would meet and work on her swordsmanship.
Though Estrilda had vowed to reclaim her family's lost honor without a male heir, they had decided to keep their arrangement secret. It had taken months of constant badgering to convince him to instruct her, but finally he acquiesced, and truth be told, it seemed as if he was happy to do so.
She progressed quickly from a skinny, clumsy girl to a quick, efficient fighter with flawless instincts. Feeling that her skills were plateauing after years of practise, she was determined to defeat Thane in their next bout.
Thane had more experience in his one remaining arm than Estrilda had in both of hers, and everything she knew at the point had been taught by Thane himself. She had never been able to defeat him. He was careful and moved only as much as he need.
She was a storm of blows. Flurries of strikes almost anyone else would have found impossible to parry. But he did, and as he did he watched and waited. Every time it ended the same. There, a weakness. His blade at her throat. Another loss. She was frustrated.
"You have a lot of courage, but that's not always going to win the fight." He grumbled.
"How am I ever going to be good enough? My father was the most renowned general this family had produced in generations."
"You don't need to be that." He sighed. "You just need to be the best that you can."
"Why does someone with your skill settle for being cooped up in the castle grounds? Surely you're capable of greater things..."
"Your training is over." He turned away, towering his head. "There's nothing else I can teach you." It was true. He was amazing with a sword, but he was only one man. Anything else she wanted to know had to be learned outside of her family's holdings.
She left it at that. Sheathing her sword, she gave him a quick bow and left the garden. Thane was reminded of his old friend, Baden. He had always seen his old friend in Estrilda's eyes. It was like he was looking out at him.
Thane remembered the sacrifice his friend had made, a sacrifice he would continue to repay.
|Use 2 Heroes||Use Two of the following: Elite+||Use Two of the following: Legendary+|
A sharp grinding sound echoed from the doorway to the sprawling manor. As the immense door was slowly pushed open, the stench of blood wafted out. Belinda and Lucius frowned and then nodded at one another as a reminder to remain vigilant.
Only a few days prior, they were asked to visit the manor by the elders of the Temple of Light to investigate. The owner of the manor is the Earl of Oye, who ten years ago retired to a peaceful life here after fulfilling his mission. Not long ago, he received a secret report, claiming that an evil presence lurked within these walls.
As Belinda and Lucius searched the inner realms of the manor, the smell of blood became more unbearable. Suddenly they saw bloodstains covering the walls in peculiar patterns. The floor was littered with moldy scrolls written in the language of demons.
The entire kingdom had been in a state of panic ever since evil had returned to the world. That is, all apart from cult groups and secret societies, who were spreading messages about doomsday, calling on everyone to give up their religions and sacrifice their souls to demons.
Common people can easily become ignorant, foolish or even insane when their hearts are full of fear or they are led astray by temptation. This makes the need for guidance from devotees of The Light, like Belinda and Lucius, even more pressing.
Their calling is clear: To be like shepherds who lead lost lambs back into the light. They embody what is just and right and hold the scales of good and evil in their hands, leading to either punishment or salvation. They will judge those who commit evil and do wrong in the name of The Order of The Light. As devotees, they must deliver impartial judgment.
Belinda and Lucius heard desperate screams coming from the cellar. They followed the screams down the stairs, lighting candles to find their way. In the dim light they made out an old man hobbled over in the center of the room wearing an evil smile all over his face. He was constantly muttering profanities to himself. Belinda and Lucius quickly discerned that the elderly man was in fact the Earl of Oye.
The elderly man stood over a young girl as she lay helpless on a sacrificial altar. Her throat had been cut open and fresh blood was oozing out.
The candlelight was flickering erratically, and the shadow cast on the wall was not that of the elderly man, but of a demon with large horns and wings extending high above his back. Belinda and Lucius were well aware that the Earl of Oye was demon possessed.
They decided to observe what was going on before taking any action. They noticed a large steel cage in the cellar with boys and girls locked inside cowering. Judging from their clothing, they were most likely the Earl’s children.
Some were sobbing while others looked fatigued like lambs waiting to be slaughtered. It was obvious that the Earl was willing to sacrifice his own children to ingratiate the demon and the girl he killed on the altar was most likely one of them.
“Earl of Oye, you are guilty of devil worship and blasphemy. In the name of the Temple of Light, I command that you stop resisting.”
Though Lucius wanted to tear this scoundrel to pieces, he reminded himself that he must not act in anger. As a devotee of The Light, he must uphold righteousness and not act in spite.
The Earl was still muttering as if he was insane.
“They have arrived and nothing will stand in their way. All must bow down at their feet.”
“Nothing can save them now! Their souls have been taken over by demons.”
Belinda gasped as she placed her staff in front of her.
“We must eliminate him before he does something even worse.”
She closed her eyes and recited a majestic prayer and her staff became covered in light. As the gentle light shone over the Earl, he suddenly started to glow as he wailed in the voice of a demon.
His body transformed into the likeness of his shadow. Sharp horns appeared and wings rose above his figure. His skin turned deep red and the demon who had taken over his soul revealed itself.
Belinda’s staff shined brighter, illuminating every shadow within the hidden corners of the cellar. The children trapped inside the cage were no longer afraid as the divine light shined over them.
The demon was disgusted to see his worst enemy, The Light. He wasn’t going to sit there and do nothing. He worked up all his might and leapt at Belinda. He failed to swipe at her as he was blocked by a shield which stood between them.
The demon bounced right off the shield. Most of the force of the impact was absorbed by the shield as Lucius groaned in agony and refused to concede. He had to protect Belinda and fight against time so that Belinda could expel the demon.
The demon let out a screech. He swiped his claw at Lucius in an attempt to tear him to shreds. But Lucius, with strong conviction, also stood strong in his defense so the demon had no way of getting his claws on Belinda.
“The Divine Light”, Belinda called out as she opened her eyes wide. Rays of divine light showered over the demon’s despicable frame and he began to burn.
“Wretched humans! Everything you do is worthless! You’re nothing more than greedy, selfish cowards! Even if you kill me, there will be many more humans like this ugly, rotting old man who will offer up their souls to us.”
As the demon burned in agony, he continued to ridicule.
Belinda and Lucius watched in silence as the demon was reduced to ashes. The Light could defeat the demon, but they were well aware that the shortcomings of humans would remain and that more would surrender themselves to demons.
Belinda and Lucius held firmly to their belief that The Light, as long as it remained, would guide them towards the beautiful side of humanity.
The Bounty Hunters
|Use 3 Heroes||Use Three of the following: Elite+||Use Three of the following: Legendary+|
The patronage at The Rusty Anchor was more rough and tumble than usual. A series of attacks on the nearby port town had discouraged travelers while drawing in nearly every bounty hunter and mercenary for a hundred leagues.
Where there was war, there was chaos, and where there was chaos, there was opportunity. For regular folk, times of war meant times of scarcity, but the motley assembly at the inn relished times like these. Many of them might not survive to year's end, but those who did could look forward to a fat profit.
Of particular interest among the gathered was the bounty board. Here the constabulary would post new bounties. Everything from tracking and retrieving lost livestock to tracking and destroying a lich lord could be tackled for a good coin.
The small crowd perusing the bounties buzzed with discussion about the jobs posted. Two grizzled Dwarves stroked their beards while debating the likelihood of finding a treasure chest supposedly hidden in a nearby mine, suspecting the local lord probably just wanted to send in someone to clear out anything nasty that might have made the mine a home.
A young man heatedly tried to convince his companions that they could take on the bandits who had been stealing from the surrounding villages. The buzz died down as an unlikely-looking woman approached, clad head to toe in black. The others nervously edged out of her way, jostling with their comrades to clear a path.
Mirael smirked, barely noticing the crowd. She scanned the board. Most of the jobs were on the mundane side or too good to be true. She sighed two long threads of smoke from the corners of her mouth and trudged over to the bar and glared over the people seated on the barstools.
No seats left. She snapped her fingers and instantly sparked and pointed to the toe of a man's shoe, which instantly sparked and set alight. When the wearer of the shoe noticed two seconds later he jumped up, hopping around on one foot and trying to kick off the flaming footwear. Mirael sat. "Barkeep! A pint!"
Two shadowy figures seated in a far corner watched with still eyes. They looked to each other. No change came over their faces, no slight twitch of muscle could be observed, but they came to a consensus.
A faint vibration rose from the floor of the building. Again, but stronger. Some noise now accompanied it. Everyone, at this point, was looking around, bewildered except for Mirael and the two figures, now staring across the inn at each other.
The crash that sounded was a tree, having been ripped from the ground like a weed, used as a club to smash another tree in half. A deep, hoarse bellow drowned out the scared noises inside as if it too had been voiced on their side of the wall.
Most of the adventurers began hiding under tables and crowding behind the bar. The three who had been frozen in their odd standoff filed out the door.
The thing before them was something that was, mercifully, extremely rare. It was a vaughur, a gigantic beast from the sea that could, not so mercifully, survive on and travel over land. With their long limbs, they stand as tall as tree men. Their claws and jaws can bisect a horse with a snap. Their eyesight is poor, but their hard carapace is effective protection against small weapons and, strangely enough, magic.
In the water they are docile, living mostly as scavengers, they can easily become enraged on the odd occasion that they are driven to land. The attacks on the port must have driven this one on to the shore. It stood at the edge of the clearing, black claws glistening and clumps of white barnacles shining in the sun on a blue carapace the same color as the sky above it. It let loose an ear-piercing shriek from between countless rows of teeth, and Mirael attacked.
The fireball hit the creature square in the face, but seemed to irritate it further rather than harm it. It rushed toward her and she only just got the flame wall up in time to deter it. It stalked around the burning perimeter, snapping at the flames.
Mirael followed it with her eyes, hands held at the ready, a ring of fire around each. Meanwhile, the shadowy pair circled the scene, taking their positions. The woman stood well back, taking aim as the man crept low and almost imperceptibly slow toward the monstrosity.
When the man reached a certain point near the beast and his stealth become more likely to become compromised, the woman began firing. The shots were as regular as they were precise. Most of the rounds glanced off the carapace or lodged in it, causing no harm, but a few hit relatively softer joints and drew a thick, greenish blood.
The vaughur bellowed again with a screech that made Mirael wince and turned toward this new threat. Just as it was steadying itself for a charge, the man closed with the beast, rushing in silently behind it and placing his left hand on the creature's leg.
The thing immediately went silent, its black eyes clouding over as it went slack. Then man's flesh on his hand and arm was glowing an eerie blue, and it seemed to ripple. When he took his hand away, a blacked pit was forming on the creatures's leg, dark tendrils of color spreading from it, widening as the edges of the mark flaked and fell away like ash.
The creature's eyes became clear again and it gave a sharp barking kind of call, swinging one massive claw downward. The man rolled away just in time and began to run. The man rolled away just in time and began to run. The beast pursued, slowed by the rapidly spreading corruption and the fresh flurry of bullets sinking into its joints and shell.
Finally, a swooping gout of flame hit it from the side, causing it to stumble and collapse. This time, the fire caught along the corroded edges of the corruption. The carcass produced an inky black smoke.
"Why did you come out to fight?" Asked the woman.
"Why were you watching me?" Asked Mirael.
"Because we saw the same thing in you that you saw in us. I'm Raine, and he's Fawkes, and we're looking for a third. We were thinking maybe a fire witch."
Mirael inspected her fingernails. "Well, I was thinking that I could use a couple of tough types around to take on the boring jobs. Sure. Why not?"
Raine smiled. She knew what Mirael was really saying. Fawkes, as usual, said nothing. Raine placed her hand on Mirael's shoulder. "Welcome to the team."