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Post by Wraithwriter »

Far out on the Jatza Sea there lies a lonely and forsaken island. Protected from the seas crashing waves by a great encircling reef it rises out of the waters. Scattered along its shores the detritus of a thousand shipwrecks advance and retreat with the tides. If an adventure managed to survive the inevitable destruction of their ship they would be surprised to find that the island was not all that it appeared to be.

From its red sand beaches rise towering cliffs topped by young cedar. A walk along the beach would reveal a crumbling stone pier and zig-zagging moss covered stairs that led up the cliff. After a treacherous climb, one would find themselves confronted by a living wall of cedar.

Moving inland the ground gradually slants down and the young growth gives way to old till only ancient red-cedars tower overhead. Birds chirp and warble in the branches above and an irrational feeling of trespassing weighs heavy on the minds of all comers. After an hour of walking the forest growth simply ends as though cut by a giant axe.

In the deep valley below a huge city stretches to fill the entire floor. At its center stands a tower, a bright shining beacon, even in daylight, beaming from its pinnacle. If one had a spyglass they would see that like the pier, all but the tower were crumbling ruins.

A few more steps towards the city flaming script begins to take shape above the ruins. At first the script is meaningless then it begins to alter to one your mind can comprehend:

You have found the out skirts of Dis. Flee now all who value their souls. For those too foolish to heed this warning your only chance of salvation is to reach the tower. Either way, farewell you poor fools.

- Image credit Lucas.hardi.org

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