The First Silent Pocket

Silent pockets, areas of death and silence, grow from places where old magic is seeped deep into the earth and sky. Often the old magic is from days of yore, during the First True Empire, though some magic creeps in from today, and even from tomorrow. This one, this specific silent pocket was the first one that was found, escaped, and reported. And much of that group did not survive, the madness of the stillness brought by the pocket disoriented the group, separating the mad from the sane, leaving them to be eaten by shadows. It was a cruel ending for the seven brave adventurers, they had no families save their companions, and they knew the danger they were to face, though no one could have guessed the greatness of the danger. It starts with the ringing, the whine in their ear, being the only sound, not voice nor footfall could be heard, shout though they tried. Then the whispers, not really there, but the faint hope that someone found a way to make noise, but the whispers said no words. But the feelings were clear. Death. Doom. Long forgotten. Unworthy of remembering. The heroes began to claw at their ears, their heads, trying to distract themselves from the horrors of the whispers. The whispers lasted days. They hardly were able to cover ground, the whispers driving them mad, leaving them impulsively throwing themselves to the ground, trying to get the shadows from their heads. But the whispers remained. The land was unforgiving. The land itself was corrupted, with a mind of it's own. It hurt, it felt the pain of being forgotten. The magic, once supporting great warriors and queens, had poisoned the land, like greed had poisoned the crown. And overtime, the queens died, the kings died, and the warriors died, eventually the common folk died as well. But the magic remained, grasping deep into the land, reaching for the sky, to the heavens. The magic consumed. Feeding off of the dead souls, and leaving the land infected with their runoff of malice, want, yearning, love, memories. And the land cried, it lashed out, killing it's animals, its humans, its dwarves, its life. The plants wilted, the trees came crashing to the ground. And the land wept silent tears as the life ebbed.

Type

Wasteland