Ever since the
Scorching of Mercury destroyed the atmosphere, the planet has been pushed towards two extremes. The sun sears the life out of every square inch it touches, and in the scrapes, crevasses, and craters where it doesn't the landscape turns space-cold.
As wildfires burn the forests to ashes, as the water boils out of the oceans, lakes, and swamps, and as the sun bleaches the sands and rock, Mercury slowly becomes a homogenous skeletal grey.
Flora and Fauna
The sunbleached wastelands are barren, but not entirely devoid of life. Those who could burrow deep, or otherwise withstand the extreme cold and heat remain. Mummified exoskeletons litter the landscape, their bodies nourishing the few plants and creatures left.
The
walkers continue to be cornerstones of the ecology even in death. The shade from the gargantuan husks provides shelter from the searing sun, allowing bold critters to dart between the shade.
Extreme Weather
Without the atmosphere for protection, the wastelands experience frequent micro-meteor storms, especially during the twelve
days of dawn. The thin coating of dust and regolith can be a blessing, revealing the otherwise invisible tornados that form in a snap as the solar winds hit the planet.
Each Solar Pulse ravages the surface further with magnetic storms, and as the storms sweep through the
Iron Spires abberant electric charges power the long-dead cities. All lit up, like ghost cities on the horizon.
More and more of the surface becomes sunbleached with each passing day, competing with the permafrost of the shade. In the boundaries between them, the earth thaws and re-freezes repeatedly, reshaping into a mosaic landscape.
Poor Mercury. :( I'm glad some life is still able to survive though.
It's really unfortunate for any location to be the main site of a story I write, because then it has to have all kinds of devastating things happen to it. I'm not a very kind author, heh.