"Are you really sure about this, o great one?" Asked Yaluk for the hundredth time. The both of us were stalking between dead bark and rotten ground, careful not to step on the many pools of bile and swamp. A thick fog impaired our normal vision, seemingly stretching forever in every direction.
The Blighted Lands were anything but a happy place. The air was vile. The sky was bleak. And the creatures that called this place home shuffled or fizzled about, both the dead and the shadows. Gray was the dominant color in this region of the continent. Gone were the beautiful greens that sprouted forth with life.
All that remained here, for millennia it seemed, was death and destruction.
