[color=MediumVioletRed]The Wasteland[/color]

[i]Why have I done this?[/i] the King pondered as it walked across the desert it had...created. An act entirely against the King's very nature. Its...lack of nature? Twisted branches rattled in a scorching breeze and noxious pools bubbled in the King's wake. It watched as a fat-tailed lizard scuttled on to a jagged boulder and flicked its pale blue tongue at the menacing figure striding past. With half a thought, the disgusting creature vanished; there was a gentle pop of displaced air rushing in to fill the void where it had been. Xanaros took a dark pleasure in the simple, petty act of destruction, returning its own creation to the NOTHINGNESS that had spawned it.

[i]This is my home[/i] Xanaros thought, stepping over a chasm filled with salt deposits and eyeless horrors. [i]This is what my father meant[/i]. It remembered the words the Great Father had said when the King in the Waste had seized control over the power of destruction. It had felt validation. Purpose. There was no condemnation, no judgment from the father. As far as Xanaros was concerned, it was justified in this strange and destructive act of creation. [i]This is my purpose.[/i] It began to climb a series of jagged mountains that had not been there a century ago. It sat down and wrapped its arms around its legs, its blank face gazing out over the Blistering Sea. Behind it were the mountains and scrublands of Ira. Far across the "sea" were the jungles that Amelia had grown, and the great mountain she had raised up to honor their father.

[i]They fear me[/i]. Its "brothers" and "sisters" were trying to trap it, encircle it in vibrant life and towering stone. As it thought this, one of the latest most purulent creations alighted on the King's shoulder. It began to gnaw at the King weakly, half-dead from its long flight over the mountains. Xanaros examined the creature with half-interest, half-disgust. [i]And they mock me for what I bring to the world. This...this creature may prove useful to me in the future.[/i] There was another soft pop as the creature was ushered in to oblivion. Xanaros stood, arms crossed. [i]I will show them. I will show them the folly and horror of creation. I will bring them the pain of life that they so desperately crave.[/i] And then it was gone.

The King traveled north. It had always been "closest" to Solumnia, at least in ideology. Both were cold and distant, especially to their other siblings. Neither were friends, and both certainly had differing views on the worthiness of creation. The King looked upon the dark woods and icy wastes of Naschya. And it felt a begrudging respect in the twisted lump of hate-filled matter that passed for its heart. It knelt before the river that now cut its way across the blank whiteness that their father had made as their foundation to enact their whimsical acts of creation upon. Once more, it sank its onyx claws in to the near-nothingness, listening to the pounding roar of the great river.

From the river spread a land of wild wetness. A place of subtly rolling peatland interrupted by small, tangled groves of pine trees. They dripped with moss and vines and were cluttered with stinking pools. Slimy stones thrust up out of the rotting soil at odd angles, quicksand and sucking bogs lurked in the hollow places. Mosquitoes, gnats, and other biting, stinging insects swarmed in their millions across this land. They tormented giant turtles, lethargic serpents, pus-spewing frogs, and butcher birds, who lurked in the bracken, gorse, and sagebrush. A new Waste from the King, its dark gift to the world.


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All three actions are being spent to create the Stark Wilds.
[url=https://ibb.co/9Gj8Gfz]The Stark Wilds[/url]
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