[@supertinyking][@Wraithblade6]

As Damien was unceremoniously spat out onto the Australian coast, he would find himself in a rather desolate landscape. Great empty plains of unruly earth, covered in batches of alien weeds. Like in most of Arcadia any native flora had been completely wiped out in some cataclysm, and all that grew here now had been ported in via the terminals. Ironically, this made the old cities the most overgrown location, as the places where previously immense forests had grown were now home only to fast-spreading fungi and weeds. In the distance he could see just one such place, a large decrepit city covered in vines, and the large bulbous forms of fungal spore colonies. There were no visible fauna, and in fact no evidence of organic lifeforms whatsoever, which was certainly surprising, as almost every other location on the planet had attracted a population of otherwordly warriors, and occasionally some very large monsters. In fact it appeared to be completely undisturbed, as if nobody had been here since it's original population was wiped out.

Of course, not all of the unease the necromancer felt could be explained by this simple oddity. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his head, something he couldn't quite understand that made him feel like he was forgetting something. Something important. It in fact took him quite a while before he managed to locate the exact source of this phantom annoyance, but when he did it was stunning indeed. He could not feel the presence of his Lord Asmodeus. Not even the tiny fraction of attention warranted him by his service, the tiny nod directed towards him, guiding him along his path. He could still feel the background energy of the universe, mana, from which all magic comes. But nothing from beyond the borders of this strange land. He could see the sea stretch out into infinity, and to all of his senses, it was as if the rest of the universe, nay, the rest of the multiverse, had simply dropped out of existence. Something was isolating him, blocking off the outside world, to a degree that was in fact hard to fathom.

Suddenly, a shiver went down his spine. There was a tiny voice, in the back of his head. A tiny voice that spoke not in words, but in thoughts, in emotions, whispered so quietly into his ear that a less experienced one might have mistaken them for their own mind. Small things, restless things. He could feel the very air in this place expelling him, washing up against his mind like the sea upon the rocks, softening the edges, and washing away the memories. The longer he thought about it, the less he could remember his goal in coming here, nor the urgency that had previously motivated him. No doubt an ordinary mortal would have simply walked away, completely nonplussed, mere moments after entering this strange place, not realising the manipulation that drove them away. And in fact, Damien realised, if he were to allow this voice to drive him off, there was no doubt he would soon forget what had caused him to leave, or why he'd been at all interested in this continent to begin with.

There was something very wrong here. Something twisted, something impossible, hiding behind the thing veneer of normality. And whatever it was, it did not intend to be discovered.