The Peninsula Of Krull
Where does one begin describing this festering sore upon the world? Some would say, the most dangerous, others the most mysterious, still others places that treasures may lay. Let us start from the point that civilization leaves off and the corruption begins. The closest civilized people and those with the worst memories of the place are the Wolf Riders and the Woodland elves.
The first thing a traveler will notice is that the green scrub and grass quickly becomes sickly and yellow looking. Then, with but a few minutes of travel, one comes to almost a line that marks the beginning of the Dead Lands, as the Elven people have named the plains. At this line, all of the plants go from yellow to black, it is rumored that the line of death and decay slowly moves closer to the towns. Many report hearing ghostly howls echoing across the plains, and these are the lucky ones, for quite a few adventurers are set upon soon after by misshapen wolves of enormous size. Injerín scholars believe that these are the same wolves that were once used as mounts by the armies of Eckra the Cruel. The past few decades have seen a resurgence of these packs. Although very close in apperance to the western riders, these creatures are larger and much more scragly. Their fur matted with ancient dried blood, and the riders muchmore barbaric with the flesh and bones of their prey hinged to their bodys as clothing.
Little known to most but the Wolf Rider tribes of the west, but their ancestors too once served under the cruel whip of the mighty Sorcerer Eckra. But eventualy escaping his tyrancey, they fled to the councel of elves and had bestowed upon them a mystical forest in which to live free of human evils.
If one first survives the several days ride in these “Dead Lands”, then they will come upon the forest known as the Folkmore Trees. In all truth this can not even be called a forest; for all that remains of that once re-grown place are endless blackened trunks and splinters of trees. This continues far into the horizon and creates a place for beasts to hide in the shadows and wait upon those that might enter their realm. Older elves make a journey of remembrance to this place and go into the depth of the forest to visit the ruins of their city Parthenon.
Blackened rubble and desiccated woodland is all that remains of this once proud example of the merger of nature and Xeuá magics. What once was a regular journey for elders, is now a seldom done thing due to the increasing dangers to be found there. Adventurers though, flock to this place to fight all manner of the foul thing that has now taken up residence here. Those that return, do in fact come back with some treasures, though many will say that it was not worth the loss of friends, nor the nightmares that will forever haunt them.
Very few people travel further eastward, deeper into the peninsula and the horror it contains. A vile river of filth, aptly named the Ebony River flows from the Ebony Lake, and cuts across the land like a knife. It is well known that the waters are not to be drunk, nay they are not to even be touched. For, the very waters which run black as night will boil your skin away should you touch them, and if you dare drink them, then your very stomach will melt and run out of you taking your bowels with it.
Luckily though, there are some points where the river narrows enough to allow a strong steed to jump from one bank to another. Never go near the lake for strange reptiles with thick, mottled scales inhabit it, somehow immune to the poisons it contains. Long razor sharp tongues flick out and can catch a horse at full gallop, slicing it in half. Stay furthest to the south if you dare to journey onward.
Now the Forbidden Zone, so named for it is believed that Eckra forbade the very ground to give life to any living thing. The earth is cracked and dust flies about constantly. No sign of bush nor weed can be found. The very earth cracks with ones footsteps, causing even more dust to fly. It is as if the harsh, gritty, dust attempts to carry on Eckra's orders.
There is not a single place that it will not invade. Armament, clothing, eyes, throat, all things are prey to its invading force. Whether it is simply the now exhausted mind or some lingering effects of foul magics, but the heat of the sun is enough to crack and blister skin. A man's brain may fry until not even his sanity is left to him.
If an adventurer is so lucky, or more likely, so cursed he will be living still. Creeping out like a deadly fog, a mesmerizing power will then draw them to the above ground remains of Tak'Dinal. Like a brooding master it sits elevated on an immense plateau. Stone the color of midnight, enormous craters, and downward spiriling staircases to oblivion is all that will greet your eyes.
Only a few of the strongest Injerin mages have survived this pull. All others have met their death in the depth, or worse they have been subverted into the very creatures that they had been fighting the whole of the way. If one so dares to travel to the Peninsula of Kr'uul, they better say their goodbyes for they will likely die there.
Where does one begin describing this festering sore upon the world? Some would say, the most dangerous, others the most mysterious, still others places that treasures may lay. Let us start from the point that civilization leaves off and the corruption begins. The closest civilized people and those with the worst memories of the place are the Wolf Riders and the Woodland elves.
The first thing a traveler will notice is that the green scrub and grass quickly becomes sickly and yellow looking. Then, with but a few minutes of travel, one comes to almost a line that marks the beginning of the Dead Lands, as the Elven people have named the plains. At this line, all of the plants go from yellow to black, it is rumored that the line of death and decay slowly moves closer to the towns. Many report hearing ghostly howls echoing across the plains, and these are the lucky ones, for quite a few adventurers are set upon soon after by misshapen wolves of enormous size. Injerín scholars believe that these are the same wolves that were once used as mounts by the armies of Eckra the Cruel. The past few decades have seen a resurgence of these packs. Although very close in apperance to the western riders, these creatures are larger and much more scragly. Their fur matted with ancient dried blood, and the riders muchmore barbaric with the flesh and bones of their prey hinged to their bodys as clothing.
Little known to most but the Wolf Rider tribes of the west, but their ancestors too once served under the cruel whip of the mighty Sorcerer Eckra. But eventualy escaping his tyrancey, they fled to the councel of elves and had bestowed upon them a mystical forest in which to live free of human evils.
If one first survives the several days ride in these “Dead Lands”, then they will come upon the forest known as the Folkmore Trees. In all truth this can not even be called a forest; for all that remains of that once re-grown place are endless blackened trunks and splinters of trees. This continues far into the horizon and creates a place for beasts to hide in the shadows and wait upon those that might enter their realm. Older elves make a journey of remembrance to this place and go into the depth of the forest to visit the ruins of their city Parthenon.
Blackened rubble and desiccated woodland is all that remains of this once proud example of the merger of nature and Xeuá magics. What once was a regular journey for elders, is now a seldom done thing due to the increasing dangers to be found there. Adventurers though, flock to this place to fight all manner of the foul thing that has now taken up residence here. Those that return, do in fact come back with some treasures, though many will say that it was not worth the loss of friends, nor the nightmares that will forever haunt them.
Very few people travel further eastward, deeper into the peninsula and the horror it contains. A vile river of filth, aptly named the Ebony River flows from the Ebony Lake, and cuts across the land like a knife. It is well known that the waters are not to be drunk, nay they are not to even be touched. For, the very waters which run black as night will boil your skin away should you touch them, and if you dare drink them, then your very stomach will melt and run out of you taking your bowels with it.
Luckily though, there are some points where the river narrows enough to allow a strong steed to jump from one bank to another. Never go near the lake for strange reptiles with thick, mottled scales inhabit it, somehow immune to the poisons it contains. Long razor sharp tongues flick out and can catch a horse at full gallop, slicing it in half. Stay furthest to the south if you dare to journey onward.
Now the Forbidden Zone, so named for it is believed that Eckra forbade the very ground to give life to any living thing. The earth is cracked and dust flies about constantly. No sign of bush nor weed can be found. The very earth cracks with ones footsteps, causing even more dust to fly. It is as if the harsh, gritty, dust attempts to carry on Eckra's orders.
There is not a single place that it will not invade. Armament, clothing, eyes, throat, all things are prey to its invading force. Whether it is simply the now exhausted mind or some lingering effects of foul magics, but the heat of the sun is enough to crack and blister skin. A man's brain may fry until not even his sanity is left to him.
If an adventurer is so lucky, or more likely, so cursed he will be living still. Creeping out like a deadly fog, a mesmerizing power will then draw them to the above ground remains of Tak'Dinal. Like a brooding master it sits elevated on an immense plateau. Stone the color of midnight, enormous craters, and downward spiriling staircases to oblivion is all that will greet your eyes.
Only a few of the strongest Injerin mages have survived this pull. All others have met their death in the depth, or worse they have been subverted into the very creatures that they had been fighting the whole of the way. If one so dares to travel to the Peninsula of Kr'uul, they better say their goodbyes for they will likely die there.