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The Wastes envelope an area over 172 million acres and expand well beyond the borders of Melekure. From Drasnia the capital city centrally located amongst the southern expanse of the Monarchy the Wastes are mostly scene in all directions. Running from the south around to the west and expanding outward from that point the forest abuts the borders of Melekure. Off in the distance to the north is the Great Plateau the base of which exists for beyond the northern border of the Monarchy.
 
A cool wind carries over the Wastes enshrouded in shadow by darkened clouds above waiting for gravity to drain it of the moisture that gave them life. Few days in the Wastes are host to the shining sun above.  The thick scent of rot and decay are only masked by a faint hint of blood carried on the air. The chilled water lay motionless, the final resting place of so many undisturbed. Speckled with small isles of grass and trees the Wastes demeanor is amplified by intermittent decaying corpses or skeletal remains picked clean. 

Finally, the ghastly remains of the ruins of Melekure act as the center piece of the entire nation. The ruins of the city where the Monarchy finds its namesake were nothing more than a specter of their former glory. Alabaster fortifications that once stood proudly were slowly crumbling struggling to maintain composure amongst battle scars centuries old. Beyond those walls lay the pristine structures of the city proper speckled with smatterings of a war fought long ago. 

With the ruins of a once prosperous metropolis as a back drop, two warriors meet in melee combat. Trudging through the sludge of the Melekurian Wastes was a single armored knight. Strange as it may have been to see a single knight, even the most ignorant being to the ways of Melekure would know a cohort was not too far off. The lower extremities of his armor blemished with stains of muddy water. However, his knightly training had led him to suspect that something was awry. He trudged carefully, sword drawn and scutum shield at the ready.