200 rooms
The Gods have erected a large, circular, ornate Arena here. It looks very similar to an old observatory, and is entirely open to the elements. Made entirely of cold, white marble, the place has an austere feel about it. Tall pillars reach up to the sky, and support ornate arches that hang across the building. The sky drapes itself over the pillars, leaving the hall open and airy. In spite of its openness, only a soft breeze blows through here. A brief thunder storm flashes over the northern end of the hall, and the dark, angry clouds let loose a torrential rain. Yet no rain seems to fall through the ceiling into the hall; the water seems to wash down the sides in sheets. Soon the storm is gone, leaving a feeling of amazement of being able to watch such fury without getting hurt or wet. This large gathering place sizzles with magical energy. There are openings in the hall in all directions. To the north, through an arch, a white sandy beach can be detected. The sand turns more reddish-brown through the western opening. A swamp or jungle appears to be growing in the eastern section giving way to an adjoining forest to the south. To the west is a pathway heading into a mountainous and desolate area.
The white sand stretches out along the length of an azure-colored ocean. The wind whips up small white-caps upon the surface, and blows spray off the rolling surf. The beach gently slopes down into the water, and the waves roll in gently onto the shore. The soft cry of a gull can be heard echoing down the lonely beach. The soft, powdery sand is filled with thousands of tiny white seashells. The beach continues to the west.
The sand sparkles with tiny minerals and is almost black in color. Silt from the tall mountains far to the north has run down a river, and deposited itself here. Sand verbena and some succulent ground-vines have decided that this is the best place to make a home. Hundreds of birds nest in their shelter, even though they are plagued by tiny red fire-ants. A river to the north, runs downstream direct to the ocean. To the south, the land flattens out into some low plains. It appears to be a transitional zone of some kind.
A river has run its course on the earth and now embraces the sea at this spot on the beach. The sand is a mixture of black, mineral-rich silt from the river, and white, ground-granite washed up with the waves. The river has cut several small channels into the sand as it flows out to meet the waves. The force of the two bodies of water has created treacherous riptide currents here, and the waves appear to be jumbled as they move onto shore. The air has a brackish smell.
The water seems very shallow here, as the current and tides join up to form long, gentle, rolling waves. The water rises and falls as the rollers build, crest and then break, moving in a timeless, endless line to the shore. The waves reach the beach to the east, and the ocean continues out as far as the eye can see.
The river flows endlessly, like time and the heavens, down from the high mountains to the sea. The passage through the hills that it has carved has widened here, slowing down the force of the current as it hits the soft sandy beach to the west. Yet even as it seems to flow serenely on the surface, the water that lies, hides sinkholes and fish that enjoy feasting on the flesh of its victims.
A river runs quick and deep through the flat, grassy plains that mark the transition zone between the mountains and the sea. The dark blue strip of water is wide. There is evidence of a strong current as small tree limbs and other debris are carried rapidly downstream to the east. To the south, the hills flatten out into a long, flat plain. It appears to be a transitional zone.
A river flows rapidly from east to west here. The terrain flattens out into rolling foothills, and the raging river slows its turbulent rush downstream. Small, rocky beaches now grace the shoreline between smaller rapids. The river eddies in the shallows near the beaches, and then picks up as the river winds its way down through the low hills.
The rapids flow dangerously westward down the narrow canyon chasm. The river boils white over the icy-green current as it spills over boulders, creating huge rapids. The river sweeps with it anything in its path, down the mountains. Eagles soar silently overhead on the wind currents above the river, a graceful counterpoint to the unmanageable power of the rushing water below.
As the river is forced into narrow chasms, it proclaims its revenge on the mountains. Rapids of water spray white indignation beneath the tall cliff faces of the mountains as it rushes over giant-sized boulders. It challenges any to dare defy its power and claims revenge on any that dare try. The river rushes rapidly to the west as it flows from the east.
Gaining momentum and force as it flows downstream, the river becomes wild. The large amount of water rushing through the canyon dislodges trees and boulders in its path, further proclaiming its power in the high-country. The river cries and roars its defiance of the solid, stone, unmoving peaks, as it flows and moves in snake-like fashion away from the snow and ice.
High up in the arctic snow is the birthplace of the wild river. The snow melts, creating a rivulet of water, that gains momentum as it trickles down the icy slopes. The rivulets meet, and join forces as the water seeks its ultimate freedom from the snow and ice. Further down it flows, channeling its way through the snow and ice, until it carves a path for itself down the mountain.
The deep blue water stretches out endlessly, reflecting the blue light from the sky. The wind whips up white caps, which dot the ocean like popcorn. Off in the distance, far to the south, a bank of white clouds obscures what might be land. A lone gull soars high in the air, scanning the waves for its next meal.
The deep blue water stretches out endlessly, reflecting the blue light from the sky. The wind whips up white caps, which dot the ocean like popcorn. Off in the distance, far to the south, a bank of white clouds obscures what might be land. At sunrise, a pink glow bathes the water in a diffuse, glowing light.
The deep blue water stretches out endlessly, reflecting the blue light from the sky. The wind whips up white caps, which dot the ocean like popcorn. Off in the distance, far to the south, a bank of white clouds obscures what might be land. A flotilla of jelly fish float silently beneath the surface of the water. Their beautiful tendrils covering the deadly poison of their stingers.
The deep blue water stretches out endlessly, reflecting the blue light from the sky. The wind whips up white caps, which dot the ocean like popcorn. Off in the distance, far to the south, a bank of white clouds obscures what might be land. A kelp pattie floats by, providing some shade for a school of fish, that swims in its nether-tendrils.
The deep blue water stretches out endlessly, reflecting the blue light from the sky. The wind whips up white caps, which dot the ocean like popcorn. Off in the distance, far to the south, a bank of white clouds obscures what might be land. At sunset, the waves reflect the rays of the setting sun, sparkling golden on the water like jewels.
The deep blue water stretches out endlessly, reflecting the blue light from the sky. The wind whips up white caps, which dot the ocean like popcorn. Off in the distance, far to the south, a bank of white clouds obscures what might be land. Bits of flotsam and jetsam drift on the surface of the endless ocean.
The deep blue water stretches out endlessly, reflecting the blue light from the sky. The wind whips up white caps, which dot the ocean like popcorn. Off in the distance, far to the south, a bank of white clouds obscures what might be land. A flotilla of jelly fish float silently beneath the surface of the water. Their beautiful tendrils covering the deadly poison of their stingers.
The deep blue water stretches out endlessly, reflecting the blue light from the sky. The wind whips up white caps, which dot the ocean like popcorn. Off in the distance, far to the south, a bank of white clouds obscures what might be land. A squadron of pelicans flies low to the water, looking like their ancient dinosaur ancestors.
The deep blue water stretches out endlessly, reflecting the blue light from the sky. The wind whips up white caps, which dot the ocean like popcorn. Off in the distance, far to the south, a bank of white clouds obscures what might be land. One of the ocean's denizens of the deep, leaps out of the water from below, and lands back into the water with a huge splash.
The deep blue water stretches out endlessly, reflecting the blue light from the sky. The wind whips up white caps, which dot the ocean like popcorn. Off in the distance, far to the south, a bank of white clouds obscures what might be land. Two deadly triangle fins break the surface of the water, as a shark swims in search of prey.
A loud crash reverberates above the sound of the waves as a chunk of a large glacier breaks off and falls into the sea. The glacier is huge, and seemingly lit from the inside. The glacier walls are translucent, and glow blue, green, purple and yellow. It is a beautiful sight to behold. High above, are the snow-covered arctic peaks. In the sky, way to the north, dance the northern lights.
The glacier gives way to dense, snow-covered mountains. They rise high above the tree-line, so that only barren, gray and brown patches of raw earth show through in some places. The snow lies in drifts and patches as the mountains dress themselves in blankets of white.
The snow thickens and deepens, making travel slow and arduous. The wind whips by with icy fingers, reaching down to chill the most warm-blooded of creatures instantly. Flurries of snowflakes are blown with such force, that they become like tiny abrasives, scouring the thickest armor and cutting the thickest skin. To the north, flickering blue and yellow lights flash in a delicate and intricate pattern.
The sky clears somewhat here, leaving the ground a crystalline white. The snowflakes have coalesced into granules, and crunch underfoot. The sky is a constant navy blue. The very northern part of the sky glows with different colors, ranging from bright yellow and bright blue to pink and white. The northern lights are very pretty here.
The mountains become entirely covered with snow, and it is treacherous to cross the tundra. Deep chasms can open up unexpectedly beneath the most careful of feet. The sky is very close here, swirling low in white and gray misty blankets. To the north flash the northern lights. The tundra stretches out to the south. To the east, the path seems to increase ever higher in altitude.
Ice thrusts up from the densely packed snow in sharp, jagged formations. It seems as though a frost giant and a gigantic blue bull have mock-battled it out here. The craggy ice formations are a testimony to the strength of the two combatants from the sheer force that must have been needed to make the ice look like this. The lights flash more brightly than ever in this farthest northern part of the Arctic. It seems as though the lights reflect the spirits of the giant and the bull, and continue to play with one-another for eternity in the blue, northern sky.
It is hard to make out how far the mountains range, as the vast tundra of white is obscured by swirling snow. The bitter cold bites deep, freezing anything warm-blooded within seconds, if not protected. The sky way to the north glimmers and flashes, as if some celestial activity were occurring there. To the south, the mountains slope down into a high desert transitional zone.
It is hard to breathe here, both from the intense cold, and from the thin air up at this altitude. It would be surprising if anything was hardy enough to survive here long, let alone live here. The wind howls dangerously, trying to push intruders off the edge of an icy cliff or back down the steep, snowy slopes.
As the steep arctic path of the arctic mountains breaks through the clouds, the view is breathtaking. The peak of the arctic zone is strangely silent. Even the wind does not blow here. The air is extremely thin, making even the most stout of souls light-headed and irrational from lack of oxygen. It can be imagined that this is heaven, and perhaps, unless one moves back to where the air is purer, it can be heaven's gate for some. The clouds stretch out endlessly in all directions, making it impossible to see from whence one came, or to where one may go.
The skies of Armageddon stretch for miles in all directions. The wind currents shift north and south, or east and west, depending on upwelling heat rising from the land below. At this great height, the atmosphere is extremely thin, making it hard to breathe. Land and sea masses can be made out beneath the swirling clouds on the world below. The atmosphere curves into an arc at the horizon, indicating that the world is round, not flat like some say.
The white sand stretches out along the length of an azure-colored ocean. The wind whips up small white-caps upon the surface, and blows spray off the rolling surf. The beach gently slopes down into the water, and the waves roll in gently onto the shore. The soft cry of a gull can be heard echoing down the lonely beach. The soft, powdery sand is filled with thousands of tiny white seashells. The beach continues to the west.
The light from above filters down through a bed of kelp, casting soft blue and purple shadows on the rocky bottom of the sea. Long, torpedo like fish with yellow tails chase tiny bait between the trailing strands of seaweed. Long narrow fish with sharp, pointy teeth patrol the waters just outside of the kelp bed. Looking up, one can see the bottom sides of sea birds resting on the surface of the sea, their webbed feet keeping them in place, or moving them about the surface.
Various rocky outcroppings rise up from the sandy ocean floor. The cold, clear current gives way to a muddy, brackish undertow. Silt from an above-ground river spreads out here, creating an alluvial fan. The tides are treacherous, causing many ships to founder on the sharp rocks nearby. Silvery salmon swim about, waiting for that inert biological signal to begin their annual migration upriver from whence they came.
The ocean floor descends gradually here. Coral reef formations grow in the shallow depths, looking like intricate elven sculptures. Bright, multicolored fish swim within the formations, darting about as they carve their niche in the ecological food chain. Sea urchins wave their many tentacles in the drifting current of the deep sea.
A coral reef glows brightly underwater, reflecting purple and brown in the muted light of the sea. The yellow light from the world above is diffused in the salty medium. Long, brown eels undulate within the holes and caves created by the silicon growth. They open and close their mouths in a very menacing way.
Various rocky outcroppings rise up from the sandy ocean floor. They are the result of underwater volcanic activity, that forever changes the landscape of this underwater world. Large conch shells house hermit crabs and sea slugs. An eight-armed octopus darts about in a rock. As it stops and camouflages itself, only its previous movement gives it away, as it blends into the rock.
The ocean floor is sandy, and stretches out into the dark, underwater gloom. Flatfish bury themselves in the sandy bottom, peering through the silt with two eyes atop one side of their flat head. The current moves back and forth, so that pieces of kelp, fish eggs and other bits that float in the water drift to and fro endlessly. It is easy to detect the motion, and feel a bit queasy here. The water is very salty, and the light shines from the surface in a deep emerald green.
A sunken ship of old looms up from the ocean floor. Settled in the soft sand, the ship is decayed, and covered with barnacles. The prow has broken off, and below, the figurehead of a beautiful brown-haired woman looks like it is weeping. Silvery fish swim in and out of holes in the bulkhead, and brown-mottled bass and grouper stake out territories on the high-points of the wreck.
The ruins of an old, large city loom into view underwater here. The cold current keeps the water clear. The ravages of war and time took their toll on the city, and nothing is left now but the crumbled stone columns of the front gate and the shell of a large arena. Sand and silt have covered all but the tallest pillars and statues of this once grandiose town. The fish seem to avoid this area in deference to the people that once lived here, but the sharks don't seem to honor such practices as they circle above the ruins.
The ocean floor drops off a little here, and stretches out into the dark, underwater gloom. There is a steady current that moves along shore to the west. The water is very salty, and the light shines from the surface in a deep emerald green. The water is a bit cooler, as if caused by an upwelling from the deep depths far down in the sea. The water is not as salty, and filled with rich nutrients that the current brings up from the sea floor.
The sunlight barely filters down through the foamy surface of the ocean here. The water tastes salty and brackish. The underwater current tugs at everything, as the long, rolling waves try to wash everything to the shore. Visibility is limited, as the wave action stirs up the sandy bottom.
The sense that one is prey as opposed to hunter here is strong. There is an uneasy sense of being watched, but as visibility is limited, it is hard to make out if something dark is circling around, just out of eyesight range. It is eerie here, and the depths of the ocean are silent and murky.
The deep gray-blue of the water surrounds one in darkness, not unlike a watery tomb. The water is a bit salty, and slightly rancid in taste. The depths of the ocean are silent and murky. It is eerie here, almost like being suspended in nothingness. Visibility is limited, and strange, dark shapes seem to circle just out of range of eyesight.
A school of porpoise frolic by to investigate this intrusion into their watery realm. The sunlight barely filters down this deep, in the dark, blue and murky depths of the ocean. The water tastes less salty and brackish. Visibility stretches out about as far as one can throw a small, round rock. There is a feeling of weightlessness and neutral buoyancy here.
The depths of the ocean are silent and murky. It is eerie here, almost like being suspended in nothingness. The deep gray-blue of the water surrounds one in darkness, not unlike a watery tomb. Visibility is limited, and strange, dark shapes seem to circle just out of range of eyesight.
The wind currents blow strongly to the south. Far to the south, on the horizon, there appears to be a large, black thundercloud. Flashes of light blink through the cumulonimbus as if the very elements are gathering together to do battle in this aerial realm. Locally, the wind is warm, gathering heat and moisture from a sub-tropical zone far below.
The wind currents blow strongly to the north. The wind is warm, gathering heat and moisture from a sub-tropical zone far below. A few stray clouds wisp by, dissipating almost as soon as they are formed. The sky glows a subtle pink, as the far-off rays of the sun start to peek just over the horizon line. The air is clean, thin and smells fresh.
The skies of Armageddon stretch for miles in all directions. The wind currents shift north and south, or east and west, depending on upwelling heat rising from the land below. At this great height, the atmosphere is extremely thin, making it hard to breathe. Land and sea masses can be made out beneath the swirling clouds on the world below. The atmosphere curves into an arc at the horizon, indicating that the world is round, not flat like some say.
The wind blows strongly from the north to the south. Far to the south, large, dark thunderheads pile high up in the air. The thick, dark clouds pile high up on one another, forming dense towers that shimmer and flash with lightning. It seems like the elements are gathering to do battle in the stormy skies of Armageddon.
The wind blows strongly from the north to the south. Far to the south, large, dark thunderheads pile high up in the air. The thick, dark clouds pile high up on one another, forming dense towers that shimmer and flash with lightning. It seems like the elements are gathering to do battle in the stormy skies of Armageddon.
Strange winds eddy and swirl in the skies above Daleville. Swift, invisible funnels twist in the atmosphere, creating extreme turbulence in the air. Strong gusts of winds buffet anything that tries to move here, pushing it back from where it came. The wind is cold, and biting.
The skies of Armageddon glow with a deep, dark blue. As the sun sets in the west, faint rays can be seen from the east, lighting the eastern sky again. Here, night reigns supreme, and the sky is dotted with zillions of stars. From this vantage point, they look large and bright. The feeling of floating in eternal night is overwhelming.
The skies of Armageddon glow a deep, dark blue. A light breeze drifts east and west. The setting sun can be seen in the west, and the faint rays of sunrise can be seen in the east. Here, night reigns supreme, and the sky is dotted with zillions of stars. From this vantage point, they look large and bright.
The skies of Armageddon glow a deep, subtle purple. The breeze shifts to the south from the west. Night becomes dominant here, and the sky is dotted with zillions of stars. The air feels soft as velvet, yet there is a sense of unease here. Looking out at the stars makes one feel very small and insignificant in life's eternal dance.
The skies of Armageddon glow a rich, dark purple. There is no breeze here. The stars cover the sky, and are so bright, that it is almost blinding to stare at them too long. The air is still, and soft as velvet.
The air around you swirls softly. The soft breeze brushes your body as you move through the sky, and smells faintly of dawn. The stars are starting to dim above you.
The breeze begins to pick up, blowing your hair and clothes in strange directions. The wind is constantly shifting direction, which can disturb your sense of direction if you are not careful.
Strange winds eddy and swirl in the skies above Daleville. Swift, invisible funnels twist in the atmosphere, creating extreme turbulence in the air. Strong gusts of winds buffet anything that tries to move here, pushing it back from where it came. The wind is cold, and biting.
The sky here is cold, crystal clear, and featureless. A strong wind blows to the south.
You have flown into nowhere. This is a featureless domain of air, far above the arena. In order to rejoin the battle, you must return to the south.
A thick, high fog bank starts moving in from the east, making it impossible to navigate in that direction. The dark mists obscure the view of the realm, and cloak everything in secrecy and silence. To the west, the setting sun glows an eerie red, like spilled blood on white linen.
The wind blows strongly from the north to the south. Far to the south, large, dark thunderheads pile high up in the air. The thick, dark clouds pile high up on one another, forming dense towers that shimmer and flash with lightning. It seems like the elements are gathering to do battle in the stormy skies of Armageddon.
The wind blows strongly from the north to the south. Far to the south, large, dark thunderheads pile high up in the air. The thick, dark clouds pile high up on one another, forming dense towers that shimmer and flash with lightning. It seems like the elements are gathering to do battle in the stormy skies of Armageddon.
Black thunderheads loom up ahead to the south. The wind gusts so cold, it bites through to the skin. The air is extremely turbulent approaching the storm. The very air crackles with electricity, and a bolt of lightning stabs at the sky nearby.
Strange winds eddy and swirl in the skies above Daleville. Swift, invisible funnels twist in the atmosphere, creating extreme turbulence in the air. Strong gusts of winds buffet anything that tries to move here, pushing it back from where it came. The wind is cold, and biting.
The center of the thunderstorm is intense with fury. Black clouds swell and crash into each other, as they battle for dominance in the sky. Electric bolts of lightning crackle and sizzle in the misty rain. The flashes are followed by ear-splitting thunderclaps that shake the very air all around. Winds whip by with great speed, blowing with a ferocity that borders on berserkness. The elements fight with glee.
Black thunderheads loom up ahead to the east. The wind gusts so cold, it bites through to the skin. The air is extremely turbulent approaching the storm. The very air crackles with electricity, and a bolt of lightning stabs at the sky nearby. A low rumble vibrates through the air after the lightening flash.
The sky is clear and cold. There is a black thunderstorm brewing to the south. The breeze drifts to the north from here, towards some large, fluffy clouds. Looking south, there is a fine mist. The sun's rays catch it just right, and a reflection of rainbows dances in the fine crystals of water.
The sky is clear and cold. There is a black thunderstorm brewing to the south. The breeze drifts to the north from here, towards some large, fluffy clouds. Looking south, there is a fine mist. The sun's rays catch it just right, and a reflection of rainbows dances in the fine crystals of water.
The breeze drifts to the west, and the skies are clear. Drifting on the lower wind currents is a dark, black shape, that looks like a large bird. Soon, the shape is joined by others of its kind, and it seems that a troop of vultures is circling some poor unfortunate below. Off in the brown hills in the distance, there seems to be a fierce battle raging.
The breeze drifts to the north through clear skies of blue. Drifting on the lower wind currents is a dark, black shape, that looks like a large bird. Soon, the shape is joined by others of its kind, and it seems that an entire flock of vultures is circling some poor unfortunate below. Off in the brown hills in the distance, there seems to be a fierce battle raging.
The wind blows in circles, drifting some to the south and others to the east. Below, there is a large expanse of water. The wind plays along the surface, creating numerous whitecaps on the brilliant blue surface. A long gull tests the air currents, seeking to fly higher and higher in the sky. It is a lone sentinel, observing all that is below.
The wind starts blowing strongly to the north. The whitecaps on the ocean below spray up a fine, green mist above the world. Several gulls are fighting the brisk wind currents. To the north, lies a large, white cloud bank. They resemble cotton balls, and seem very soft and fluffy.
Below there is a raging river. It seems to flow with a ferocity and fierceness of one possessed by revenge. A pair of eagles grace the soft wind currents here. They glide together, sometimes even touching wings, before they drift apart again. A slight wind eddies to the west, and to the north sits a large, white cloud bank. A storm seems to be brewing to the south.
Strange winds eddy and swirl in the skies above Daleville. Swift, invisible funnels twist in the atmosphere, creating extreme turbulence in the air. Strong gusts of winds buffet anything that tries to move here, pushing it back from where it came. The wind is cold, and biting.
Above the green forests below, sits a bank of white, cumulus clouds. The air is brisk and refreshing. There is some turbulence. The clouds create patterns of light and dark on the ground. They obscure the sun at times and cause folk to lose their way in the forest.
Flying through the cumulus cloud banks is an eerie and exciting experience. The tops of the cloud mist and dissipate when one flies closely over them, the reality of their composition giving way to the illusion that they are soft, fluffy cotton balls. Moving through the clouds, visibility becomes nil, and the mist clings at all clothing, causing condensation to occur. Right below the clouds is a bit of turbulence, and the ceiling seems more silver, than white. It is seen to be true that every silver lining has a touch of gray. Flying on the airwaves gives one a distant, mystic memory of what once was, and what can be again.
Flying through the cumulus cloud banks is an eerie and exciting experience. The tops of the cloud mist and dissipate when one flies closely over them, the reality of their composition giving way to the illusion that they are soft, fluffy cotton balls. Moving through the clouds, visibility becomes nil, and the mist clings at all clothing, causing condensation to occur. Right below the clouds is a bit of turbulence, and the ceiling seems more silver, than white. It is seen to be true that every silver lining has a touch of gray. Flying on the airwaves gives one a distant, mystic memory of what once was, and what can be again.
A hot dry wind blows away any moisture from this barren path. Old wagon tracks proclaim that this was once a well traveled path, but now for as far as the eye can see this area is a desolate wasteland.
A hot dry wind blows away any moisture from this barren area. Old wagon tracks proclaim that this way was once well-traveled, but now, as far as the eye can see, the area is a desolate wasteland. As the wind moves the sand, just beyond one of the last green bushes left, the sun reflects on something white. The remains of a humanoid skeleton, its skull crushed with an axe, and its ribs cracked from a hard blow is revealed in the dirt.
The ground is hard-pack and reddened, as if much blood was spilt here. A coppery smell fills the air. The ground is covered with a thin, sandy topsoil, which is not thick enough to support anything to grow, even if there were water available. The barren, desolate wasteland stretches out endlessly to the east and west.
The ground is hard-pack and reddened, as if much blood was spilt here. A coppery smell fills the air. The ground is covered with a thin, sandy topsoil, which is not thick enough to support anything to grow, even if there were water available. The barren, desolate wasteland stretches out endlessly to the east and west.
The endless desert path leads to a low-lying butte to the west, and the path turns south and east. The rock changes from coppery-red to bone-white here. The wind is so dry, that it is easy to become parched and dehydrated within minutes. Dried remains of sagebrush grows sparsely here, the only living tribute in the desolate desert.
The desert path heads endlessly north and south through the hot, arid landscape. The sun beats down incessantly, and reflects mercilessly off the white rocks. It is almost blinding in its intensity. The rocks and sand stretch out for leagues. Off in the distance to the south, there seems to be a shimmering on the horizon, as if a large lake was just sitting there, waiting to be enjoyed.
The desert path heads endlessly north and south through the hot, arid landscape. The sun beats down incessantly, and reflects mercilessly off the white rocks. It is almost blinding in its intensity. The rocks and sand stretch out for leagues. Off in the distance to the south, there seems to be a shimmering on the horizon, as if a large lake was just sitting there, waiting to be enjoyed.
The desert path heads endlessly north and south through the hot, arid landscape. The sun beats down incessantly, and reflects mercilessly off the white rocks. It is almost blinding in its intensity. The rocks and sand stretch out for leagues. Off in the distance to the south, there seems to be a shimmering on the horizon, as if a large lake was just sitting there, waiting to be enjoyed.
Sharp, jagged rocks form a natural boundary to the south, and there is no lake to be seen anywhere. Off to the east, the desert floor seems to be covered with large boulders. A dried-out creek bed meanders off to the west. The rocks are impossible to pass through, and a hot, arid desert trail leads back to the north, through the barren desolate wasteland.
The desert heat gives way to an old, abandoned battlefield. What was once fought over or even won, is no longer evident. Corpses seem to have returned to the dust from which they first came -- a never-ending tribute to the circle of life. Growing in tiny patches on the ground, where the slain have fallen, is a dark, green plant. It grows about the size of a gold piece, and has tiny, star-shaped flowers with a red tear center. It is the only tribute to the mass destruction of life that once happened here.
The soil has completely eroded here, leaving behind only rocky boulders. Nothing grows in this wasteland, and the brown rocks stand as barren sentinels over the darkened battlefield. As the wind blows hot and dry over the rocks, a soft, mournful wailing seems to tickle the edge of the senses, just beyond the reach of hearing.
A massive battlefield stretches out in all directions. It is impossible to tell who, or what, did battle here. The remains of corpses have decomposed so that they are no longer recognizable. Any colors that the combatants wore has faded to a dull gray-white. Growing in tiny patches on the ground, where the slain have fallen, is a dark, green plant. It grows about the size of a gold piece, and has tiny, star-shaped flowers with a red tear center. It is the only tribute to the mass destruction of life that once happened here.
The rocky boulders stand stark against the cerulean sky. Nothing grows in this wasteland, and the brown rocks stand as barren sentinels over the darkened battlefield. As the wind blows hot and dry over the rocks, a soft, mournful wailing seems to tickle the edge of the senses.
A massive battlefield stretches out in all directions. It is impossible to tell who, or what, did battle here. The remains of corpses have decomposed so that they are no longer recognizable. Any colors that the combatants wore has faded to a dull gray-white. Growing in tiny patches on the ground, where the slain have fallen, is a dark, green plant. It grows about the size of a gold piece, and has tiny, star-shaped flowers with a red tear center. It is the only tribute to the mass destruction of life that once happened here.
Skeletal corpses remain where they died on this immense battlefield, still impaled by sword or lance. Broken arrows litter the ground. The arrowheads are beyond usefulness, as they degrade on the soil. Dust and dirt cover everything, and only the occasional rain reveals the mass destruction that once took place in the hills.
Large boulders litter the wasteland, giving the area a post-apocalyptic look. Everything is covered in black soot, as if a flash fire exploded in the area. Remains of bodies lie crushed beneath the huge boulders, as if an enormous battle took place. There are no graves nor headstones to mark the fallen beings. All are unrecognizable as to what they were when they were alive. The smell of death seems to hang in the air, even though there is no scent of blood.
The battlefield is blackened here, as if purged by fire. The black ash has crusted over time, and is eroding away, leaving behind the dusty, gray soil of the foothills. Occasionally, something gleams in the dirt, and a piece of melted metal can be found. Small granules of a low grade glass can also be found near the center of the field, indicating ground-zero of the fireball blast.
Skeletal corpses remain where they died on this immense battlefield, still impaled by sword or lance. Broken arrows litter the ground. The remaining bits of metal from swords and other weapons lie brittle in the dirt. Dust and dirt cover everything, and only the occasional rain reveals the mass destruction that once took place in the hills. To the east, the desert floor gains altitude into a high-desert transitional zone. Large cactus with twisting arms dot the horizon.
The soil has completely eroded here, leaving behind only rocky boulders. Nothing grows in this wasteland, and the brown rocks stand as barren sentinels over the darkened battlefield. As the wind blows hot and dry over the rocks, a soft, mournful wailing seems to tickle the edge of the senses, just beyond the reach of hearing.
Large boulders litter the wasteland, giving the area a post-apocalyptic look. Everything is covered in black soot, as if a flash fire exploded in the area. Remains of bodies lie crushed beneath the huge boulders, as if an enormous battle took place. There are no graves nor headstones to mark the fallen beings. All are unrecognizable as to what they were when they were alive. The smell of death seems to hang in the air, even though there is no scent of blood.
The creek bed heads north, into the desert badlands. The ground is sandy and dry, and there are remnants of past flash floods on the banks of the creek. Old, dried and withered trees lay dead on their sides, their branches like old bones, bleaching white in the hot sun. Nothing moves in the desert heat, and the air hangs silent and heavy, like death.
The dried creek bed moves north and south. Once a mighty river, it is heartbreaking to see the remains of what once was. Old campsites, long abandoned, lay in ruin by the riverbed. Tree stumps look as if they have been blackened by a fire, and then never recovered from lack of water. Nothing moves in the desert heat, and the air hangs silent and heavy, like death.
The creekbed heads north, into the desert badlands. The ground is sandy and dry, and there are remnants of past flash floods on the banks of the creek. Old, dried and withered trees lay dead on their sides, their branches like old bones, bleaching white in the hot sun. Nothing moves in the desert heat, and the air hangs silent and heavy, like death.
The dried creek bed runs north into the desert badlands, and south back into the desert. There is no escape from the blistering, incessant heat of the sun as it glares down from the cloudless sky. Nothing grows or lives in this desolate wasteland.
The creek bed heads north, into a box canyon, and spills out into a small flatland to the west. The sides of the creek bed show many layers of dirt, each a different color, from when the river carved its niche in this area. Rocks and stones lie strewn about the floor of the creek, and occasionally there is a distant rumble.
A narrow box canyon provides a little shade against the elements, but also poses a threat from ambush. The wind and sand have carved shallow caves, holes and arches in the soft soil, giving the place a surreal look. The wind blows silently, though it whistles through one of the natural openings occasionally. The air hangs silent and heavy, like death.
The narrow box canyon ends here, but still poses a threat from ambush. It splits here to the east and west, and the canyon heads south to the dried creek bed. The wind and sand have carved shallow caves, holes and arches in the soft soil, giving the place a surreal look. The air hangs silent and heavy, like death.
The tall sandy walls seem highly unstable, as rivulets of sand stream down from the cliff face. The soil is super-fine, almost chalky in look and feel. The walls of the cliff are marbled with yellow and white silt. The canyon opening heads west, and it is possible to sit here in ambush, waiting for someone to come up the canyon from the creek bed.
The remains of a refugee camp sit here in the canyon. Tie-dyed tents lie strewn about in tatters. Black peace signs are marked in the dirt, but the walls of the canyon are splattered with a rusty brown substance. Old provisions have been scattered about, and they are now rusted into uselessness by time. The canyon leads both south and west from here.
The narrow box canyon ends here. Dried skeletal remains have mummified in the desert heat. Their black skin stretches like leather over the broken bones of their slaughtered bodies. The air hangs silent and heavy, like death. The walls of the cliff are marbled with yellow and white silt. The canyon opening heads north, and it is possible to sit here in ambush. It can also become a trap, as depicted by the ancient corpses that litter the ground.
Rolling dunes of desert sand stretch out for miles, and it would be certain death to try and navigate them. Parched, dry winds whip around, sculpting the sand into waves upon the stormy surface of the barren desert. The shifting sands move constantly, forever changing the face of this barren landscape. Every once in a while, the remains of something once living is revealed, only to be blown into dust by the wind and spread out over the desert. Nothing wins the battle against time.
The desert flattens out into a soft, sandy area. Parched, dry winds whip around, sculpting the sand into waves upon the stormy surface of the barren desert. The shifting sands move constantly, forever changing the face of this barren landscape. Every once in a while, a bright, metal object is revealed, only to be quickly covered again. Nothing wins the battle against time.
Mud oozes everywhere along the mucky marsh trail into the Psychotic Swamps. A low, dense fog mists everything in a gray shroud. An unsettling feeling of oppression and persecution seems to hang in the very air. The mud makes soft, sucking sounds as it clings to boots like glue. Twisted willows and linden trees stand silently in the mist, vines clinging to their trunks. A faint chorus of ribbits and chirrups sound nearby, but the fog muffles any other sound in the swamp.
The trail curves around a small pool within the marsh. The pool is shallow, consisting mostly of water from rain and mist that has gathered in a low point by the trail. The shore is muddy and glistens with thin coating of slime. A huge bullfrog leaps off a lily pad and peers out from beneath it with large, luminous eyes. Thick, broad-leafed green plants grow tall here.
Mud oozes everywhere along the mucky marsh trail into the Psychotic Swamps. A low, dense fog mists everything in a gray shroud. An unsettling feeling of oppression and persecution seems to hang in the very air. The mud makes soft, sucking sounds as it clings to boots like glue. Twisted willows and linden trees stand silently in the mist, vines clinging to their trunks. A faint chorus of ribbits and chirrups sound nearby, but the fog muffles any other sound in the swamp.
Mud oozes everywhere along the mucky marsh trail into the Psychotic Swamps. A low, dense fog mists everything in a gray shroud. An unsettling feeling of oppression and persecution seems to hang in the very air. The mud makes soft, sucking sounds as it clings to boots like glue. Twisted willows and linden trees stand silently in the mist, vines clinging to their trunks. A faint chorus of ribbits and chirrups sound nearby, but the fog muffles any other sound in the swamp.
Mud oozes everywhere along the mucky marsh trail into the Psychotic Swamps. A low, dense fog mists everything in a gray shroud. An unsettling feeling of oppression and persecution seems to hang in the very air. The mud makes soft, sucking sounds as it clings to boots like glue. Twisted willows and linden trees stand silently in the mist, vines clinging to their trunks. A faint chorus of ribbits and chirrups sound nearby, but the fog muffles any other sound in the swamp. Off to the north, the sound of ocean waves break in the distance.
The trail all but disappears into the Psychotic Swamp. Rivulets of water sits tepidly between marshy islands. The ground changes from clay, to brown dirt, to white sand, and a mental note is made to watch for sinkholes. Vines grow thickly over dead and decayed trees. They are so alive, that it is possible to see them grow and move. The land changes shape constantly, so that it is impossible to make a trail, or see where one has been. Only the most skilled of hunters can track their quarry in this forsaken corner of the world. All is quiet and still here.
The trail all but disappears into the Psychotic Swamp. Rivulets of water sits tepidly between marshy islands. The ground changes from clay, to brown dirt, to white sand, and a mental note is made to watch for sinkholes. Vines grow thickly over dead and decayed trees. They are so alive, that it is possible to see them grow and move. The land changes shape constantly, so that it is impossible to make a trail, or see where one has been. Only the most skilled of hunters can track their quarry in this forsaken corner of the world. All is quiet and still here.
The trail all but disappears into the Psychotic Swamp. Rivulets of water sits tepidly between marshy islands. The ground changes from clay, to brown dirt, to white sand, and a mental note is made to watch for sinkholes. Vines grow thickly over dead and decayed trees. They are so alive, that it is possible to see them grow and move. The land changes shape constantly, so that it is impossible to make a trail, or see where one has been. Only the most skilled of hunters can track their quarry in this forsaken corner of the world. All is quiet and still here.
The trail all but disappears into the Psychotic Swamp. Rivulets of water sits tepidly between marshy islands. The ground changes from clay, to brown dirt, to white sand, and a mental note is made to watch for sinkholes. Vines grow thickly over dead and decayed trees. They are so alive, that it is possible to see them grow and move. The land changes shape constantly, so that it is impossible to make a trail, or see where one has been. Only the most skilled of hunters can track their quarry in this forsaken corner of the world. All is quiet and still here.
The trail all but disappears into the Psychotic Swamp. Rivulets of water sits tepidly between marshy islands. The ground changes from clay, to brown dirt, to white sand, and a mental note is made to watch for sinkholes. Vines grow thickly over dead and decayed trees. They are so alive, that it is possible to see them grow and move. The land changes shape constantly, so that it is impossible to make a trail, or see where one has been. Only the most skilled of hunters can track their quarry in this forsaken corner of the world. All is quiet and still here.
The trail all but disappears into the Psychotic Swamp. Rivulets of water sits tepidly between marshy islands. The ground changes from clay, to brown dirt, to white sand, and a mental note is made to watch for sinkholes. Vines grow thickly over dead and decayed trees. They are so alive, that it is possible to see them grow and move. The land changes shape constantly, so that it is impossible to make a trail, or see where one has been. Only the most skilled of hunters can track their quarry in this forsaken corner of the world. All is quiet and still here.
The trail all but disappears into the Psychotic Swamp. Rivulets of water sits tepidly between marshy islands. The ground changes from clay, to brown dirt, to white sand, and a mental note is made to watch for sinkholes. Vines grow thickly over dead and decayed trees. They are so alive, that it is possible to see them grow and move. The land changes shape constantly, so that it is impossible to make a trail, or see where one has been. Only the most skilled of hunters can track their quarry in this forsaken corner of the world. All is quiet and still here.
The trees and vines close in thick and tight deep inside psychotic swamp. As the oppressive fog closes down from the sky, and the growth closes in from all sides, there is a feeling of despair, and eyes widen as madness sets in. All around there are echoes of faint cackles as the lunacy of the swamp drives all within its clutches insane.
The trees and vines close in thick and tight deep inside psychotic swamp. As the oppressive fog closes down from the sky, and the growth closes in from all sides, there is a feeling of despair, and eyes widen as madness sets in. All around there are echoes of faint cackles as the lunacy of the swamp drives all within its clutches insane.
The trail all but disappears into the Psychotic Swamp. Rivulets of water sits tepidly between marshy islands. The ground changes from clay, to brown dirt, to white sand, and a mental note is made to watch for sinkholes. Vines grow thickly over dead and decayed trees. They are so alive, that it is possible to see them grow and move. The land changes shape constantly, so that it is impossible to make a trail, or see where one has been. Only the most skilled of hunters can track their quarry in this forsaken corner of the world. All is quiet and still here.
Quicksand and sinkholes become the norm deep within the bowels of the psychotic swamp. The vines grow so thick here, that they have hardened into ropy tree trunks, and their branches grow together blocking out most of the light here. A foul, decaying odor fills the air. There is no sound here, as nothing can penetrate the thickness of the growth.
Quicksand and sinkholes become the norm deep within the bowels of the psychotic swamp. The vines grow so thick here, that they have hardened into ropy tree trunks, and their branches grow together blocking out most of the light here. A foul, decaying odor fills the air. There is no sound here, as nothing can penetrate the thickness of the growth.
Quicksand and sinkholes become the norm deep within the bowels of the psychotic swamp. The vines grow so thick here, that they have hardened into ropy tree trunks, and their branches grow together blocking out most of the light here. A foul, decaying odor fills the air. There is no sound here, as nothing can penetrate the thickness of the growth.
Quicksand and sinkholes become the norm deep within the bowels of the psychotic swamp. The vines grow so thick here, that they have hardened into ropy tree trunks, and their branches grow together blocking out most of the light here. A foul, decaying odor fills the air. There is no sound here, as nothing can penetrate the thickness of the growth.
The ground rises almost imperceptibly, until there is no water sitting in puddles or moving in shallow rivers. It is very isolated on this island, as it is surrounded on all sides by the swamp. Visibility is very limited, as the dense fog hangs low all around. Occasionally, the mist overhead parts, and a bright yellow glare lights the haze, basking the island in an eerie glow. Reeds and pussy willows grow thick around the island's edge, making it an ideal place to make a stronghold within the swamp. It is also easy to sneak up on one's enemies from behind here as well.
Quicksand and sinkholes become the norm deep within the bowels of the psychotic swamp. The vines grow so thick here, that they have hardened into ropy tree trunks, and their branches grow together blocking out most of the light here. A foul, decaying odor fills the air. There is no sound here, as nothing can penetrate the thickness of the growth.
Quicksand and sinkholes become the norm deep within the bowels of the psychotic swamp. The vines grow so thick here, that they have hardened into ropy tree trunks, and their branches grow together blocking out most of the light here. A foul, decaying odor fills the air. There is no sound here, as nothing can penetrate the thickness of the growth.
The trail all but disappears into the Psychotic Swamp. Rivulets of water sits tepidly between marshy islands. The ground changes from clay, to brown dirt, to white sand, and a mental note is made to watch for sinkholes. Vines grow thickly over dead and decayed trees. They are so alive, that it is possible to see them grow and move. The land changes shape constantly, so that it is impossible to make a trail, or see where one has been. Only the most skilled of hunters can track their quarry in this forsaken corner of the world. All is quiet and still here.
The trail all but disappears into the Psychotic Swamp. Rivulets of water sits tepidly between marshy islands. The ground changes from clay, to brown dirt, to white sand, and a mental note is made to watch for sinkholes. Vines grow thickly over dead and decayed trees. They are so alive, that it is possible to see them grow and move. The land changes shape constantly, so that it is impossible to make a trail, or see where one has been. Only the most skilled of hunters can track their quarry in this forsaken corner of the world. All is quiet and still here.
The ground rises almost imperceptibly, until there is no water sitting in puddles or moving in shallow rivers. It is very isolated on this island, as it is surrounded on all sides by the swamp. Visibility is very limited, as the dense fog hangs low all around. Occasionally, the mist overhead parts, and a bright yellow glare lights the haze, basking the island in an eerie glow. Reeds and pussy willows grow thick around the island's edge, making it an ideal place to make a stronghold within the swamp. It is also easy to sneak up on one's enemies from behind here as well.
The ground rises almost imperceptibly, until there is no water sitting in puddles or moving in shallow rivers. It is very isolated on this island, as it is surrounded on all sides by the swamp. Visibility is very limited, as the dense fog hangs low all around. Occasionally, the mist overhead parts, and a bright yellow glare lights the haze, basking the island in an eerie glow. Reeds and pussy willows grow thick around the island's edge, making it an ideal place to make a stronghold within the swamp. It is also easy to sneak up on one's enemies from behind here as well.
Long sticks covered with eyes move imperceptibly in the tepid water deep in the swamp. There is the pervading feeling that someone is watching, all the time. A maniacal feeling of hysteria starts to rise within the soul, as all traces of a path, or civilization are completely gone. Overhead, the low fog hangs in sheets, and there is a low mist rising from the floor of the swamp, obscuring any safe, or sane path through this area. Sometimes, a faint roar can be heard as something catches what it was stalking.
Long sticks covered with eyes move imperceptibly in the tepid water deep in the swamp. There is the pervading feeling that someone is watching, all the time. A maniacal feeling of hysteria starts to rise within the soul, as all traces of a path, or civilization are completely gone. Overhead, the low fog hangs in sheets, and there is a low mist rising from the floor of the swamp, obscuring any safe, or sane path through this area. Sometimes, a faint roar can be heard as something catches what it was stalking.
The trail all but disappears into the Psychotic Swamp. Rivulets of water sits tepidly between marshy islands. The ground changes from clay, to brown dirt, to white sand, and a mental note is made to watch for sinkholes. Vines grow thickly over dead and decayed trees. They are so alive, that it is possible to see them grow and move. The land changes shape constantly, so that it is impossible to make a trail, or see where one has been. Only the most skilled of hunters can track their quarry in this forsaken corner of the world. All is quiet and still here.
Long sticks covered with eyes move imperceptibly in the tepid water deep in the swamp. There is the pervading feeling that someone is watching, all the time. A maniacal feeling of hysteria starts to rise within the soul, as all traces of a path, or civilization are completely gone. Overhead, the low fog hangs in sheets, and there is a low mist rising from the floor of the swamp, obscuring any safe, or sane path through this area. Sometimes, a faint roar can be heard as something catches what it was stalking.
Long sticks covered with eyes move imperceptibly in the tepid water deep in the swamp. There is the pervading feeling that someone is watching, all the time. A maniacal feeling of hysteria starts to rise within the soul, as all traces of a path, or civilization are completely gone. Overhead, the low fog hangs in sheets, and there is a low mist rising from the floor of the swamp, obscuring any safe, or sane path through this area. Sometimes, a faint roar can be heard as something catches what it was stalking.
Long sticks covered with eyes move imperceptibly in the tepid water deep in the swamp. There is the pervading feeling that someone is watching, all the time. A maniacal feeling of hysteria starts to rise within the soul, as all traces of a path, or civilization are completely gone. Overhead, the low fog hangs in sheets, and there is a low mist rising from the floor of the swamp, obscuring any safe, or sane path through this area. Sometimes, a faint roar can be heard as something catches what it was stalking.
Long sticks covered with eyes move imperceptibly in the tepid water deep in the swamp. There is the pervading feeling that someone is watching, all the time. A maniacal feeling of hysteria starts to rise within the soul, as all traces of a path, or civilization are completely gone. Overhead, the low fog hangs in sheets, and there is a low mist rising from the floor of the swamp, obscuring any safe, or sane path through this area. Sometimes, a faint roar can be heard as something catches what it was stalking.
The swamp waters widen out into a shallow marsh. The water flows more rapidly, and carries a salty, brackish smell. Tall reeds grow in thick patches on the water, creating narrow channels through which one can pass. The reeds move as snakes and other marsh creatures slither through them, unseen and unheard. An occasional splash is heard as a marsh fish or other creature leaps out of the water and lands back within it again. There is a low-hanging cover of gray clouds, and sometimes a bit of mist rises from the water, shrouding the reeds in mystery here as well.
The swamp waters widen out into a shallow marsh. The water flows more rapidly, and carries a salty, brackish smell. Tall reeds grow in thick patches on the water, creating narrow channels through which one can pass. The reeds move as snakes and other marsh creatures slither through them, unseen and unheard. An occasional splash is heard as a marsh fish or other creature leaps out of the water and lands back within it again. There is a low-hanging cover of gray clouds, and sometimes a bit of mist rises from the water, shrouding the reeds in mystery here as well.
The swamp waters widen out into a shallow marsh. The water flows more rapidly, and carries a salty, brackish smell. Tall reeds grow in thick patches on the water, creating narrow channels through which one can pass. The reeds move as snakes and other marsh creatures slither through them, unseen and unheard. An occasional splash is heard as a marsh fish or other creature leaps out of the water and lands back within it again. There is a low-hanging cover of gray clouds, and sometimes a bit of mist rises from the water, shrouding the reeds in mystery here as well.
The trees grow thick and become very dense here. Many acorns, nuts and mushrooms litter the ground. There is a rich musky odor here, coming from the dark moist ground. The forest all around is very still and quiet, give a sense of apprehension of what lies ahead.
Here the pathway in to the forest becomes more twisted and the trees have grown and entwined around each other. Their branches and roots are so wrapped together, can't tell where one tree begins and another ends. There are exits in all directions, south is further into the forest and north is the way back to the center of the arena. While to the east and west are dark glens.
Thick roots grow from the old gnarled trees and out to cover the path. These trees have grown so thick and close together that their branches and the trunks are entwined. The air is filled with a deep musky odor. The forest continues all around.
Thick roots have grown from the trees out to cover the path. There is an opening to the east just large enough for someone to pass through. The rest of this area is thick with trees and bushes. There is a strong earthy odor here. The forest continues to the north and south.
Thick roots grow from the old gnarled trees and out to cover the path. These trees have grown so thick and close together that their branches and trunks are entwined. The air is filled with a deep musky odor. The forest continues in all directions.
Thick roots grow from the old gnarled trees and out to cover the path. These trees have grown so close together that their branches and trunks are entwined. The air is thick with a musky odor. The forest continues all around. Sounds echo off in the distance.
Thick roots grow from the old gnarled trees and out to cover the path. These trees are so thick and have grown so close together that their branches and trunks are entwined. The air has a strong musky odor and sounds can be heard echoing off in the distance. The forest continues to the east and west.
Thick roots have grown out from the old gnarled trees that line this part of the forest. The roots cover the path as it leads west into the forest. There can be heard eerie sounds that seem to echo off in the distance.
Thick roots grow from the old gnarled trees and out to cover the path. These trees have grown so thick and so close together that their branches and trunks are entwined. The air is filled with a thick musky odor and sounds can be heard echoing off in the distance. The only exit is to the east.
Thick roots grow from the old gnarled trees and out to cover the path. These trees have grown so thick and close together that their branches and trunks are entwined.
Thick roots have grown from the old gnarled tree and out to cover the path. These trees have grown so thick and close together that their branches and trunks are entwined.
Thick roots have grown out from these old gnarled tree and now cover the path. The trees are so thick and tightly placed here that their branches and trunks are entwined together.
As with the rest of the forest there are large roots covering the path. The trees here are so entwined and have grown so close together there is no where to go but west. The forest is dark and sounds echo off in the distance.
Thick roots grow from the old gnarled trees and out to cover the path. These trees have grown so thick and tightly together that their branches and trunks are entwined. The air is filled with a deep musky odor. The forest continues to the east. To the west, the trees thin into a desert-transitional area. Large hills covered with boulders can be seen in the distance.
The dark path leads further into the forest. The trees along the path are very old, gnarled and twisted. There can be seen decomposing plants all around and among the trees. The trees are covered with a dark green moss, and many bracket fungi grow upward on these trees. The path goes east and west.
The dark path leads further into the forest. The trees lining the path are very old, gnarled and twisted. There is some decomposing plants around and among the trees. The trees are covered with a thick dark green moss and have bracket fungi growing upwards on their trunks.
The dark path leads further into the forest. The trees along the path are very old, gnarled and twisted. There can be seen some decomposing plants under and around the trees. The trees are covered with a dark green moss and have bracket fungi growing upwards on their trunks.
The wall inside these great oak trees seem to be alive. A strange and wonderful mystic energy pulses through the trees. There are many large and thick roots that grow up and around the inside and back down into the ground. There are small wisp like roots and moss that hang down from above.
The walls inside these great old oak trees seem to move and sway as if alive. A strange and wonderful mystic energy pulses throughout the tree. There are many thick roots that grow up and around the tree and then back down into the moist ground. There are roots and pieces of moss hanging down from above.
The wall inside these great old oak trees seem to move and sway as if alive. There is a strange and wonderful mystic energy that flows from the trees outward. There are thick large roots that grow all around and then back down into the moist ground. There are roots and pieces of moss that dangle down from above.
The altitude of the land starts rising, as it heads into a transitional zone. Saguaro cactus grows in tall, intricate shapes as its arms embrace the sky. The land leads north, into some snow-covered mountains, and east into a dense forest. There is also an updraft that leads into the clear blue skies above. To the west, the land seems to become arid and dry, leading into a hot, dry desert.
A transitional zone sits between the sea and the swamp, providing a good place to catch one's breath and to change course to evade pursuit. To the north, a long, deserted beach stretches out to the sea. A brackish smell comes from the south, where a large expanse of swampland grows. To the east, a river seems to chart a hazardous course up to some alps. There is a small opening that leads down to the earth nearby, and every once in a while a whiff of sulfur can be smelled coming from it. There are air currents leading up into the skies as well.
This is a dark secluded forest glen, off the regular forest path. The bushes here have grown in to a huge hedge which blocks all other ways out except the way east.
Here is another dark forest glen. Its only exit is to the west. There are many old gnarled trees lining this area. There is no way to move past them they seem to sift and block any way out except the way west.
Thick roots grow from the old gnarled trees and out to cover the path. These trees have grown so thick and dense that the branches and trunks are entwined. There is a thick musky odor in the air.
Thick roots grow from the old gnarled trees and out to cover the path. These trees have grown so thick and so close together that their branches and the trunks are entwined. The air is filled with a deep musky odor. The forest continues all around.
Travelling through the swamp is like a psychopathic nightmare. Ooze and muck covers the ground, making the travel hard. The thick fog is oppressive and hangs low over the tops of the vine-covered trees. Suddenly, the white sand of a sinkhole catches a weary traveller unawares, and there is the pull and tug as one sinks slowly in the soft sand. Sand fills the eyes, nose and mouth, and there is an overwhelming feeling of fear, as the bottom drops out from beneath one's feet.
Deep within the bowels of the earth, lies a tortuous maze of underground tunnels. Naturally-formed out of hard, porous black rock, the paths twist and turn beneath the earth. In spite of the inhospitable environment, the caves have long since been a battleground for the inhabitants of the nether world. Volcanic activity still rumbles within the caverns and the smell of sulfur lingers in the air.
The tunnel angles slightly down to the west, and the floor has been pounded smooth. White pock marks of where a thrown rock or stone hit the lava rock mark cover the floor. It indicates that a fierce battle raged here.
A cave-in blocks the way to the west. Crushed bones cover the floor like sand. Within the western wall, a skeletal hand still holds onto a rusted sword. The body of the long-dead fighter died during the cave-in, crushed under the weight of tons of boulders. A small opening has appeared in the ceiling where the rocks have caved-in. A slightly salty smell sometimes drifts in, though it is usually overpowered by the strong sulfurous smell welling up from the bowels of the earth.
The caves continue to meander beneath the surface world. The tunnels twist and turn in the black, volcanic rock. The smell of sulfur lingers in the air and gets stronger upon descent into the underground caverns.
The tunnels curve left and right through the underground caverns beneath the surface world. The black, volcanic rock absorbs all light, but gives off a faint, warm glow. The smell of sulfur lingers in the air and gets stronger upon descent into the underground caverns.
The tortuous maze of underground tunnels spirals down deep into the belly of the earth. Every so often, in a hollowed out niche, or narrowing twist of the caves, there is evidence of a position guarded and held, and then lost as armies advanced or fell back. In this inhospitable environment, the skills and experience of the most hardened warriors are tested to their limits. Volcanic activity still rumbles within the caverns and the smell of sulfur lingers in the air.
Cool, fresh air, trapped long ago beneath the earth, formed large pockets in the molten lava. When the liquid rock around the air solidified, the air pressed out, forming this long, natural cavern within the depths of the earth. Over the years, the continuous movement of the earth has created deep, endless chasms within the cavern floor. Misty steam wafts up from the crevasse. One can almost imagine that this is where the victors threw their defeated enemy, in a sacrifice to the smoking mountain in which they lived.
The long, natural cavern bends north and west here within the depths of the earth. Over the years, the continuous movement of the earth has created deep, endless chasms within the cavern floor. Misty steam wafts up from the crevasse. The black walls are covered with bright, florescent growth, that give off a phosphorescence, lighting the cavern.
The soft, muted glow of the underground fungi lights the underground maze. Tunnels twist off in several directions. It is difficult to tell where one is going, as all of the tunnels seem similar. This area has an old, abandoned outpost, but there is no sign of recent battle here.
The tunnel mainly winds north and east. Tiny crevices and cracks mar the black lava-rock walls, making it impossible to tell what, or who is around the next corner. The serpentine path descends deeper into the bowels of the earth. A strong, sulfurous smell wafts through the passage.
The tunnel continues its serpentine winding to the north and south. Tiny crevices and cracks mar the black lava-rock walls, making it impossible to tell what, or who is around the next corner. The snake-like path descends deeper into the bowels of the earth. A strong, sulfurous smell wafts through the passage.
The tunnel spills out onto a long, narrow precipice. There is room to only move a few feet in either direction. Ahead to the north is a long, wide chasm. Looking down, one can see a molten river, glowing red and black, flowing through the bottom of the chasm. This tunnel can be a dead end in more ways than one.
The soft, muted glow of the underground fungi lights the large, main cavern here. Tunnels twist off in all directions. To the south, a blast of heat can be felt in the dankness of the underground. The air is moist and steamy, similar to a sauna. It smells dank, musty and a bit like rotten eggs.
Old tattered rags and cloth are strewn about the floor. Bits of broken furniture are piled in one corner of this small cavern. The walls are covered with a dusty residue, where energy bolts seared their victims. It looks like the barracks were raided during a brutal, sneak attack.
An overturned table lies rotting on the floor. The wooden legs disintegrate at the slightest touch. Dust is all that is left in the inside of a cabinet that once housed scrolls, maps and other important papers. The walls are scorched, as if the tapestries that once hung there went up in flames. The holes in the porous lava rock have fused together.
Old tattered rags and cloth are strewn about the floor. Bits of broken furniture are piled in one corner of this small cavern. The walls are covered with a dusty residue, where energy bolts seared their victims. It looks like the barracks were raided during a brutal, sneak attack.
A wave of heat blasts from the south through this tunnel. The walls are smooth, and shine with a rich, black glow. Miners can recognize that this part of the earth is made entirely of obsidian, and that these tunnels are not natural, being carved by tools. The black-glass floor is slick, and footing becomes treacherous. A faint, red glow shines from the south.
The temperature in the tunnel increases, as if approaching the core of the earth. Faint yellow and orange shadows flicker on the black obsidian walls. There are no hiding places here. Nothing remains on the floor to indicate what made these tunnels, or what happened to them.
It becomes increasingly hot, as the tunnel descends to the south. A low rumble, followed by a whoosh indicates that something oozes up ahead. Faint red and orange shadows flicker on the black obsidian walls. Nothing remains on the floor to indicate what made these tunnels, or what happened to them.
It becomes increasingly hot, as the tunnel descends to the east. A low rumble, followed by a whoosh indicates that something oozes up ahead. Faint red and orange shadows flicker on the black obsidian walls. Nothing remains on the floor to indicate what made these tunnels, or what happened to them.
The obsidian tunnels curve around to the west, and a hot, red glow fills the west end of the tunnel. The heat is so intense, that it is stifling. The walls are hot to the touch.
The slick, black tunnels open up into a large cavern. The floor moves constantly, providing a flowing battleground for the warriors of Chaos. The red and black tableau stretches out endlessly. Every once in a while, a molten lava bubble forms on the surface, and then bursts with a whoosh, as it forms a new rock tile on the floor.
The slick, black tunnels open up into a large cavern. The floor moves constantly, providing a flowing battleground for the warriors of Chaos. The red and black tableau stretches out endlessly. Every once in a while, a molten lava bubble forms on the surface, and then bursts with a whoosh, as it forms a new rock tile on the floor.
The slick, black tunnels open up into a large cavern. The floor moves constantly, providing a flowing battleground for the warriors of Chaos. The red and black tableau stretches out endlessly. Every once in a while, a molten lava bubble forms on the surface, and then bursts with a whoosh, as it forms a new rock tile on the floor.
This is a perfectly shaped oval room made of a dark gray stone. The room is lined with simple wooden benches and stools. There are many torches lining the wall, each one embedded in the stone. Every other torch is lit, giving the room light. The room has exits leading out in every direction. A large sign hangs on one of the walls in the room.