Marche of Floeur
Geography
Gaze upon a vast expance of green flat terrain, all covered in a thick amount of grass for as long as the eye can see. Here, there is little in terms of hills and naught in terms of mountains in sight. Only the mix of green, white and blue which form by the connecting sea, as well as the smooth sandy coastlines can be seen from miles away. Though, should anyone look further up the landscape, ponds, lakes and small rivers fill the green expanse in a matching hue of clean sparkling turqoise.
The sinkhole - To the northeastern region of Floeur, rivers can be seen trailing down into a whirlpool of water and mud, that form a large sinkhole which locals describe as some form of vortex gate. Hence, it is rumored that this watery grave isn't certain death to jump into, but actually a gateway between Equilibrium and the elemental realm's water domain. Wether this is true or not, the sight of this sinkhole that spans thirty meters deep and fifty squares in width, is one to behold. As long as one does not join any mad sacrifical cults, thus earning the ire of the local Witch-Hunter battalion.
Flowercrest - Central most of the Marche, one may find a large body of water that has been shaped like the petals of a flower. Within the core of this blossom, a perfectly round landmass of grass and stone harbour the local ruling castle of the region, known as Bastion du Paine. The castle itself can be entered through a large bridge, that serves as the stalk of the flower, which is furthermore surrounded by the blossoms leaves, which are patches of fields covered in flowers the colours of the rainbow.
Sweetmarsh - A small patch within the southeastern region, that is known for it's snaking marshlands. Though they don't look all that spectacular, the water itself tastes sweet and has been found to be completely clean and free of danger to drink. Likely from underwater streams that bring it forth, accompanied by a bacterial and mineral culture which kills most nastiness that would taint the waters.
Ecosystem
Though Floeur has small rivers and other bodies of water running all over the place, wind is it's true guardian element. As the flat landscape is devoid of any cliffs, trees and mountains, as well as facing the vast ocean that crashes on it's shore, there is often a vast difference between the land itself being either really hot or cold, with the waters countering it out for a more moderate tempereature. As a consequence of the presure forming from the blend of of temperature, the area is often incredibly windy to the point where smaller animals like chickens can sometimes be blown away by the gales.
Thanks to the powerfull winds, most creatures in the area adapt to recognize changes in wind or the temperature so that they can avoid the stronger gales when they pierce through. Hence, avian creatures are the most common to be found within the area, though some animals that can't fly instead resorted to either burrowing techniques or growing larger than normal sizes to be harder to budge, through weight.
Ecosystem Cycles
Though the summers are absolutely the worst period within Floeur, if one wishes to avoid it's painfull winds, the later seasons tend to be more forgiving, with pleasantly calm and mostly warm autumns and somewhat windy but not horribly so winters. During these periods, many birdspecies tend to migrate southwards for the Golden Dunes, or west to Peregon while creatures like wolves and bears start to encroach the snowy territory in hunt for fish, which can sometimes be a danger towards the people of local villages.
During the spring though, it turns around as the wind starts to pick up and a wrath of pollen is unleashed over the entire region. Causing it to be a paradise for insects and birds, as well as a nightmare horror for anyone with allergies. In it's wake though, full fields with a near endless amount of different colourful flowers paint the landscape. Something which only grows more intense untill the mid of summer.
Localized Phenomena
Although it is rare, as a zone known for both having tornados appearing from time to time, accompanied by wild thunderstorms that in the olden days made the locals fear hell was raining down on them, a combination of the two make up for the more rare and ten times as terrifying phenomen of lightning tornado's which traverse the land, firiting jolts and bolts of thunder into the landscape, putting things on fire as it rip the soil and anything else that get's in it's path up into the thunderous disaster.
Fauna & Flora
Along the many fields, sunflowers, daisies and peonies can be found in the millions - all stretched out in colourfull patterns, with insects like honeybees and ants swarming around their paradise. Though, without any but a few patches of trees most tend to stay on ground levels, near bushes or found within burrows. The many birds themselves tend to seek refuge around the towns, villages and cities, with a few residing near the waters, as hunters of fish.
Some of these fish, thanks to the gales, have developed oddly avian forms though. Creatures known as the Feathered Salmon, Wingfin and Aeroshark are but some of the aquatic creatures that have learned the ability to fly, so that they can hunt within the many waterbodies found all over Floeur. Just as well, some fish have even learned to eat and camouflague themselves in the colour of flowers, as roses, bluebells and more than a hundered other speices of flowers found in the zone litter these lakes and rivers, colouring them in mystical schemes.
Floeur is also well known for it's horses, that grow larger and stronger due to the climate, though remain more tame than ordinary steeds, due to their lack of natural enemies within the habitat. One such famous breed is the direcorn, which is also represented by the Marche's weapon crest.
History
In the north, smoke and ashes. What was once a lively village, now only the remains of fire spread by the zealous and uncompromising remained. Like open graves, they hung from steel circles, nailed and burnt on metal pyres. The stench of cooked human flesh in a breeze over the lands, as grass withered and blossoms turned twisted nad toxic. Meanwhile, their true quarries were walking among the innocents, still quivering in fear within the lands that were still untouched. Luring them beyond red candles with sweet fragrances and false promises. A wicked play from both fronts. Then, there was us. What would a bunch of fools with old muskets and blades do against those armed with magic and demons. Nothing, that's what most would've said. Die alone, hopelessly defending something we could never protect. It's what we all thought untill they arived. Gothian killers, armed to the teeth with black steel and gunpowder. Clad in grim leathers and features even more bitter. At first we thought it the end. The final nail in the coffin of Floeur, untill they opened fire. Hails of lead and bolts pierced the plates of the wicked clergymen. One by one, our oppressors fell dead in the street to a force of sheer will and firepower. A trick of the demons, perhaps? Though no, one by one the powers that had played our nobles and practiced the arts of darkness were lined up on the streets, subjected to a firing line of silver dipped in holy waters. On impact they would all burn in a purifying blaze. We are no longer a humble shoreline built on apiary farmers, horseranchers and herbalists. Today, we are the marche of van Paine, the royal cavaliers of the Falcon. On mighty steeds, armed with pistols and blade, we will ensure that nobody takes our freedom, ever again.
Type
Grassland
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