Land of Hollow Dreams
Greetings, traveler. You wish to take the Salt Path? I would not go that way. It is cursed, I say. Why? Let me tell you my story. . . .
It was my first time attempting the crossing of the Land of Hollow Dreams. A caravan was packed with several trade items to take East for use in purchasing the rare spices and other components to make us rich in Europa. Several of the veteran traders were eager to get going, saying that the winter months were the best for traveling. However, the caravan master, a new one who had just purchased the rights to the line of camels and wagons, told them that he wished to wait for the first rains, and so we did.
The road through Eastern Osmaniye was easy enough. As we got closer to the border, there were those that would warn us that the Salt Path was no longer safe. The caravan master would not be swayed though, and we passed the borders, heading East towards Osmaniye. The mountains were beautiful, if forboding, and the path took us into the foothills before dipping down into a dry plain. Much like a desert, the air was arid there, and the scrubby bushes seemed to stretch on forever.
It was there that I first caught sight of the oasis. It was a jewel amongst the bland sun-washed colors of the badlands. As we approached, there was a small city of white marble and gleaming spires. The oasis itself was lush and green, and there were people lounging and eating fruit picked from the trees that seemed to be planted for such. The citizens motioned for us to enter, and so the caravan master led the group into the city. The chatter of the people was of a foreign tongue, that none of the traders seemed to know. The traders were also mystified as to where the city came from.
Once we got to the inn, the caravan master and myself got a table to ourselves. That is when he told me that I should stay close to him if I wished to live. I was unsure of his words, but paid heed to them. He stayed at the table the entire night, and after the last trader had wandered off to their bed, a beautiful woman came to the table. She said nothing, but offered a bowl to the caravan master, who dipped his hands into it. It looked like some sort of honey, which he rubbed into his hands and face, then bade me do the same. I did, and the woman left with a smile on her face. The caravan master evaded my questions, saying I could sleep and the caravan would continue on in the morning.
The next morning, I saw none of the traders come to break their fast. The caravan was loaded up and left without them. Once out of the city, the caravan master revealed that the people left behind were the price to crossing on the Salt Path. To my horror, he continued on, saying that I could have a portion of the trader’s wares. I say with shame that I accepted his offer, and we made much profit on that journey, enough for me to begin my own trading company when we returned. But I swear, I never took the Salt Path again, nor will I ever. There is something dark there which haunts my dreams still.
Geography
Fauna & Flora
History
Type
Badlands
Location under