This is the rugged interior of Iocanthos, bounded to the south by dense forests and the sea, and to the north by the jagged flint mountains. The Badlands are an endless sweep of plains, scrub and steppe where most of the Ghostfire crops can be found and where the warlords clash. It is dotted with battlefields, some of them no more than a tangle of recently slain bodies and others titanic fields of bones and burned-out wrecks. A fortunate and hardy individual can make a good living scavenging these battlefields to find valuables and weapons to sell. Iocanthos’s folklore is full of the tales of the sticky ends experienced by such scavengers, from dread curses to old-fashioned walking dead, and most normal folk stay away from these battlefields.
Sights and Sounds of the BadlandsEdit
The badlands live up to their name; the landscape is a desolate plain of dun-colored stone, loose, thin soil and thorny weeds. Stretches are pitted with old blast craters and marred by spills of blackened earth, so arid it seems that nothing will ever live there again. Every few kilometres the remains of a ruined settlement or clan camp lies empty and abandoned; some are old, while others seem newly destroyed and are still splashed with rust-coloured dried blood. Here and there skeletons lie where they fell, and eerily, the Ghostfire flowers seem to take root wherever the dead rest, wrapping their roots around the shattered bones and opening their multi-hued iridescent blooms. Then there’s the wind. When it blows, it seems to squall from different directions, kicking up eddies and swirls of choking dust, and it always seems to carry the stench of the charnel house, filling the nostrils with the appalling stench of blood and iron, always iron.