Mana Wastes
The warped wasteland between Nex and Geb bears the indelible scars of 14 centuries of arcane conflict. In ancient days, the region was renowned for its natural beauty, which inspired breathtaking artworks from the dwarves of Dongun Hold. The dwarves ruled the land surrounding their Sky Citadel for centuries without harassment by the god-kings of Osirion or the petty tyrants who ruled in their ruined colonies, but when the archmage Nex waged war with the necromancer Geb, Dongun Hold found itself wedged between two implacable enemies. Minor skirmishes blossomed into clashes between vast armies, legions of constructs, potent summoned monsters, and ravenous undead.
After centuries of shifting annexation by Geb or Nex, the dwarves of Dongun Hold withdrew into their Sky Citadel and collapsed the entrance to their imposing fortress, leaving their lands to be blasted into barren, arcane ruins.
From vast alchemical miasmas to chaotic eldritch storms to the unquiet souls of annihilated armies, the Mana Wastes swirl with unpredictable dangers seen nowhere else on Golarion. Rife with carnivorous plants, shattered-glass sandstorms, and poisonous fogs, the landscape itself seems singularly dedicated to destroying those who attempt to traverse or settle its tenacious wilderness.
To the west, in a sprawling region of dead magic, the Grand Duchy of Alkenstar provides the Mana Wastes’ most secure sanctum, drawing not just traditional refugees, escaped slaves, and wanderers, but increasingly merchants, foreign diplomats, and dwarves seeking to reunite with their returned cousins at Dongun Hold. Those journeying to and from Alkenstar must endure not just the terrors of the Mana Wastes’ unnatural environment, but also the predations of the magic-warped monstrosities who call the place homerifle-toting mutants, spectral soldiers, murderously erratic constructs, and worse.
Further west, the Mana Wastes sweep upward from Alkenstar into the hills and mountains of the Western Ravage. Here, cloaked by the same energies that keep magic out of Alkenstar, dwell several tribes of mutated giants, ettins, and ogres, brutal creatures who make near-annual summer raids on the city-state and engage in violent struggles with one another when not focused on a mutual enemy. After decades of suffering at the hands of those wielding Alkenstar’s firearms, the giants of the Western Ravage now find it necessary to finally crack open Dongun Hold and plunder its wealth. Their raids on the Gunworks have already yielded dozens of longarms, scores of pistols, and several cannons—which the largest giants can wield like rifles.
In the east, the lowlands sprawl into a gnarled wasteland of jagged tors and rocky dunes called the Spellscar Desert. Virtually devoid of water and baked with blistering heat by day, the inhospitable terrain abounds with shattered, otherworldly ruins predating the devastation of the wizard-kings’ war. The mutated inhabitants of these forlorn ruins, their bodies wracked by the same arcane abominations that warped and twisted the landscape, mercilessly prey upon travelers foolhardy enough to cross the desert.
The dearth of magic allows some semblance of normality within Alkenstar’s territory in the Western Ravage, but the Spellscar Desert is constantly devastated by churning currents of raw magic, supernatural storms, tears in the veil of reality, and other disastrous aftereffects of the nearly endless arcane cataclysms of wizardking warfare. These unusual effects warp both the land and its inhabitants, and occasionally bleed north up the Ustradi River or are blown across the plains of Geb and Nex upon uncharitable winds. Often these storms have no physical manifestation, but just as often they’re accompanied by the march of pestilential ghost armies, cacophonous gibbering that echoes for hours, slicing rains of tiny metal shards, or other horrifying phenomena.
From vast alchemical miasmas to chaotic eldritch storms to the unquiet souls of annihilated armies, the Mana Wastes swirl with unpredictable dangers seen nowhere else on Golarion. Rife with carnivorous plants, shattered-glass sandstorms, and poisonous fogs, the landscape itself seems singularly dedicated to destroying those who attempt to traverse or settle its tenacious wilderness.
To the west, in a sprawling region of dead magic, the Grand Duchy of Alkenstar provides the Mana Wastes’ most secure sanctum, drawing not just traditional refugees, escaped slaves, and wanderers, but increasingly merchants, foreign diplomats, and dwarves seeking to reunite with their returned cousins at Dongun Hold. Those journeying to and from Alkenstar must endure not just the terrors of the Mana Wastes’ unnatural environment, but also the predations of the magic-warped monstrosities who call the place homerifle-toting mutants, spectral soldiers, murderously erratic constructs, and worse.
Further west, the Mana Wastes sweep upward from Alkenstar into the hills and mountains of the Western Ravage. Here, cloaked by the same energies that keep magic out of Alkenstar, dwell several tribes of mutated giants, ettins, and ogres, brutal creatures who make near-annual summer raids on the city-state and engage in violent struggles with one another when not focused on a mutual enemy. After decades of suffering at the hands of those wielding Alkenstar’s firearms, the giants of the Western Ravage now find it necessary to finally crack open Dongun Hold and plunder its wealth. Their raids on the Gunworks have already yielded dozens of longarms, scores of pistols, and several cannons—which the largest giants can wield like rifles.
In the east, the lowlands sprawl into a gnarled wasteland of jagged tors and rocky dunes called the Spellscar Desert. Virtually devoid of water and baked with blistering heat by day, the inhospitable terrain abounds with shattered, otherworldly ruins predating the devastation of the wizard-kings’ war. The mutated inhabitants of these forlorn ruins, their bodies wracked by the same arcane abominations that warped and twisted the landscape, mercilessly prey upon travelers foolhardy enough to cross the desert.
The dearth of magic allows some semblance of normality within Alkenstar’s territory in the Western Ravage, but the Spellscar Desert is constantly devastated by churning currents of raw magic, supernatural storms, tears in the veil of reality, and other disastrous aftereffects of the nearly endless arcane cataclysms of wizardking warfare. These unusual effects warp both the land and its inhabitants, and occasionally bleed north up the Ustradi River or are blown across the plains of Geb and Nex upon uncharitable winds. Often these storms have no physical manifestation, but just as often they’re accompanied by the march of pestilential ghost armies, cacophonous gibbering that echoes for hours, slicing rains of tiny metal shards, or other horrifying phenomena.
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