The Scarred Lands

This area has been known by many different names in different tongues in the last thousand years, but while the peoples of Eltarra might not agree on its name, they can agree on one thing: no-one in their right mind would want to go there.
  If the legends are true, this area was once the home of a thriving and beautiful civilisation. A place of wonder, music, art, and most of all, magic. If any evidence remains of such a civilisation, it has long since been buried under dark sands or completely obscurred by the passage of time.   It is here that the Breaking occured - a catastrophe that not only marred the lands and destroyed the people who lived here, but altered the very substance of magic around the world. Magic was broken. Or so the records claim.  
The air here is wrong. I can't describe how, but it just feels....different. It's not just the air though. Everything feels wrong. I am still yet to be convinced on our purpose here, but the money was too good to be passed on - and gods know I need it. All I have to do is survive this damned place.
  This barren wasteland has become a barrier to all travelers and merchants. The land has become so scarred that only the hardiest of flora can survive here, the rare creatures that call this place home being equally hard and vicious. Explorers have ventured into the lands, their pursuit of knowledge and hunger for new discoveries overwhelming any sense of caution. As of yet, none have returned.  
I can't shake the feeling that we are being watched. Even Volenna keeps shifting and she's as unshakable as a Kerden tree. Dafren ignores us though, their eyes are too fixed on some important discovery to see that we are not welcome here. I just hope they find whatever it is soon, before this place becomes the death of us.
— Excerpts from loose pages of a journal blown across the border of the Scarred Lands, undated and unnamed.


Cover image: by AP. (via Artbreeder) WA-SC logo (edited in Photoshop)

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