My partner hates it if I fall to sleep before he’s gotten into bed, so I’ve started doing world building things in a journal whilst I wait.
2,600 miles of roasting desert. It continues further north, but this is the furthest anyone has return from. The came back with stories of populous families of sandworms, vastly more than ever imagined. Presumably, it’s them that churn and digest the land and turn it all to sand. Giant insects have evolved to be light enough to not disturb them. Fire Wyrmlings grow too numerous to reach adulthood, such is their cruelty in their youth.
The ducks are huge creatures obsessed with pushing back the sand, northwards. They’re doing a surprisingly good job. Their flat feet do not summon the worms.
They are frequently poached. The Loyal Kindred protect them as best they can, but they have limited resources.
The wizards of Dirnt had an idea to repel the Barrens and it went badly.
It’s now the perfect home for climbing creatures, and one last expelled family from The Dales.
Loyal Kindred Of Lucian
They believe their god still lives, despite their obvious demise. Magic is powerful here, but not for the reasons they think.
The city is slowly diminishing as they pour resources into holding back the Barrens and appearing strong, avoiding war.
The Sopp takes more land each year. These peaceful people had no choice but war when their request for asylum was denied from their neighbours. The choice was the fight to the death or die standing still.
Shrinking each day from war which they appear to be losing. A recent leadership change might bring peace, but it is not likely. They worship and endeavour to wake the elephantine gods. No one else wants this.
One farmlands, now salted earth. Thousands of people had to relocate to the “mainland” of the Kingdom.
Plaguelocked city of the Dirnt
They revel in their plague and the gifts it gives them: a sleepless life where the gods can’t peer into their thoughts. They are bat shit crazy and would gladly infect the world. The surrounding countries do all they can to keep them inside.
The hierophant lives here, and she is adored by everyone. They all need her whispers from the gods. They’re all waiting for her to convince the gods to halt the Barrens and/or encroaching Sopp.
All countries donated land to her. They all kneel to those in her white robes.
The hierophant has not shared this knowledge, but they have developed technology to stay afloat in The Sopp.
The fire tribes whose culture revolve around growth and burning. They claim all the land the fires take, and the other druidic tribes shrug and accept it. Why argue? Some years, Sinder is tiny.
They’re very careful to not let the fires stretch to Vassel.
The water druids do not like the taint of The Sopp. They build huge dams and fill their southern-most lakes with concrete and tar to slow The Sopp’s spread. It is not working.
The lakes of the water druids are the most beautiful scenery of any in all the lands.
The forest druids. They’re forced to fell their own trees to slow the spread of Sinder. The oldest trees they have are thousands of years old, and their power stems straight from the ever living earth.
They will not fight Sinder, but would not mourn their loss.
We are rot. Breath in The Sopp and let it reign.
The Sopp has done something to them. They all hear each other over great distances.
They fight against the barren god though have no idea what it is. In a choice between desert and swampland, there’s only one choice, surely.
Mulched earth, rotten to the core. No foundations can be laid. Some creatures have learnt to survive it. One day, they may be all that is left.
Molton clay will often bubble up here and resolidify on the surface. This clay is perfect for homunculus.