The Riven Lands are a fractured realm born from a magical event, The Sundering which violently pulled people from countless realities into a bleeding scar across existence. Magic here is a vile, twisting curse, its power warping flesh and mind. Its inhabitants, xenophobic and without loyalty, cling to life amidst decaying lands, endless wars, and horrifying Gods that everyone worships in some form. Hope is a lie; only brutal struggle remains in this world drowned in cynicism and sheer cruelty.
| Played | 8 times |
| Cloned | 3 times |
| Created | 2 days ago |
| Last Updated | Yesterday |
| Visibility | Public |
| Size | 0 |
| Type | Arid, cursed ritual wasteland |
This arid plain is perpetually blanketed in a fine, dark ash that chokes the lungs and smothers all life. The land is not a place of natural rock and soil, but a sterile, grey waste, scarred by the raw power of Vesperian rituals and arcane experimentation. The wind carries a fine, toxic dust that can drive a person to madness, and the ground is littered with the petrified remains of failed experiments and the withered bones of ritual sacrifices. It serves as a grim ritual site, where Tiefling priests conduct their most horrific ceremonies and test their grotesque creations. The threats here are relentless. The very ground is a curse, and the air is a poison. Ash-Wrought fiends, twisted creatures that are born from the corrosive atmosphere, roam the steppe, hunting anything that moves. The ghosts of mutineers and victims of the brutal pirate code are a constant, mind-rending presence, and the corrosive dust can slowly erode a person's will and sanity.
The steppe is a vast expanse of grey ash and dust, with twisted, blackened petrified remains scattered across the ground. A constant, choking wind carries fine, toxic ash that obscures vision and distorts the horizon, while ghostly apparitions flicker in the distance, haunting the cursed landscape.