The Blasted Lands

A creature lurks at the edge of the darkness, the reavers standing guard doing their best to ignore its presence. They are used to the hallucinations at this point and have convinced themselves this is just one of the more twisted ones that the nights occasionally bring. They had heard the rumours, everyone had, it's not every day that the Zethin Tribe loses the majority of its shaman so close to their night of power. People talk of whispers in the night, that the shaman wasn't lost but taken, but by what? One of the reavers shuddered thinking of the things that could be lurking in the darkness, the creature saw its opportunity and struck, the once-powerful reaver falling to the ground, his mind an empty shell. His companion didn't react, knew better than to react. He simply stared forward and tapped his spear twice on the ground, a sort of subconscious signal to his superiors in further in the camp about the condition of his fellow watchmen.
He could hear the movement of the shaman with his cultists behind him, but they stopped. Why had they stopped he wondered, then he realized that the hallucination must still be around somewhere. He resolved to not let it concern him as he took a long-stemmed pipe out of the pouch on his side and filled it with dreamweed. As he leaned over to light it off the torch he saw the faintly glowing eyes and disembodied teeth of the creature he had been trying so tirelessly to ignore. He sighed inwardly as he felt the creatures ethereal jaws wrap themselves around his head and consume all that made him who he once was. His body collapsed near his companions as the shaman simply gathered the torches and moved them closer to the rest of the camp casting the two mindless shells into darkness. "Make sure you give whatever remains a burial when the great fire rises again in the sky" he spoke out loud without any real intended subject but the cultists took note of what he said nodding among themselves.

Geography

Gentle hills turned to blacked and cracked earth, a small desert that moves its way around the confines of the Blasted Lands, these are the defining features of the wasteland that had once been fertile farmlands.

Fauna & Flora

Small twisted shrubs and mutated creatures litter the landscape, most coming out at night when the sun no longer scorches the lands. Some of the things that come out at night are treated with equal parts worship and fear by the tribes inhabiting the area. They pray that it will not turn its twisted vengeful gaze upon them as it lurches across the landscape consuming the mind of any so unlucky to catch its attention.

Type

Wasteland