Drusyënd

Geography

Drusyënd, the vertiginous graveyard of the gargantuan Skorthruxes, who are thick-hided mountains of flesh and super-dense bone - they live lifespans of thousands of years, and from their anatomical vagaries and mutations it is possible for two scholars from different period of history to encounter the same Skorthrux. They do not die of old age, except they only grow larger and larger til their legs, stumpy and vast as an elephant's, yet as abundant and skittering as a millipede's cease after the course of aeons to function - so when a Skorthrux's legs show the slightest sign that they might give way in the next century or so, they make a final pilgrimage to Drusyënd, where they will spend the remainders of their lives as geography. The mountains of Drusyënd still live.
Their thick blood still flows and their cells split. They still breathe as they had in their heydays. Every one of their nerve endings and receptors have long since rotted away, so they live in a world of primal emotions invoked from millennia-old memories. A baleful aura hovers high over Drusyënd, the immense and unthinkably venerable life-force of beings whose souls have remained tethered for millions of years. It invokes feelings of insignificance and reminds one of their mortality. These Skorthruxes have finished their quest - they have once again become one with the earth. Nobody has settled near this plateau.

Fauna & Flora

Wildlife in Drusyënd consists, of course of the living mountains, the Skorthrux first and foremost - while there are the Marching Hives, the hated Kafrets which house hundreds of thousands of inimical copper Kurids. They stomp and buzz furiously on their three legs and drain an area of plants before marching on to a new locale, and stay in Drusyënd for they know that if they attack the plants where the hairless two-legs live, they will face stinging miasma from rocks that fall from the skies (poison gas bombs). Nothing at all in Drusyënd is static. The bushes and rocks, all legged wage war against each other and jealous palm trees vie for territory. The dominant race here are pugnacious cassowaries that have no concept of empathy or pity and will kick you til you are beneath the ground. Earthquakes happen daily, and a great stink billows up shortly after.

Natural Resources

The cracked grey skin of the Skorthruxes, now more rock than flesh, becomes riddled with tumours and warts, the oleaginous pus which fills them is coveted by some magicians who send drilling expeditions to these mountains-once-monsters. That yellowish stuff can heal typhoid and cholera if you fill your belly with it and let nothing else in, let it settle and digest for a week and you will be diseased no more, but you will defecate candles.

Type

Wasteland