The Forest is born from the Core and to it, it’s bound: as a powerful source of arcane magic, the Forest encloses it and devotes herself, in return the Core offers its lymph, the soul of the Forest’s life indeed.
The Forest is a creature, alive.
Once entered, the hero moves in constant and overwhelming anguish, and not only because of the peril of an ambush, or of traps, or, moreover, of the illusions of the enchanted spirits, the ones who live under her shadow…
It’s the Forest herself that seems to eagerly wait to absorb every life of such careless creatures who dare to oversleep or even to feed upon the lymph of her blessed trees.The hug of branches, the twine between vines and roots looks more like a mortal grasp.
The one who respects this place and who understands the equilibria, might have the chance to encounter kindlier spirits and to accomplish his purpose.
During the dawn and the sunset, that’s when the Desert lights up, the golden palaces and towers reflect the horizon’s blinding light, the squares and the streets draw a precious veining weave, down in the sand canyon. The precipitous mountains are encrusted with clay and are stratified, drilled in some sections, within view arcade and stairways emerging from the side of the mount.
A forgotten civilization, consumed by time, is the very skeleton of the mountain chain.
The mountains of the Red Desert hide in its own bowels magma and energy. The black rock mountains, crystals and fire embedded, are ploughed by lava rivulets, which constantly flows, falling into the boiling sources which emerge in the valleys.
The geysers and eruptions’ vapors fill the air of the rock desert, often creating a smokescreen which hides from the view the warrior able to move with agility in those places.
Warriors exposed to danger: the air becomes heavy, the breath gets labored and the one who does not purify in the pools down below, in the valleys, becomes unhinged and loses its way forever.