Hungry Borderlands

Cracks run through the hard, stony surface of the Borderlands. Nothing grows here, the only source of water comes from the occasional rain… nothing really wants to live here. Not like they had a choice… The stench of death lingers all around. The feeling of doom is always present. Surviving on your own is hard, surviving in a group even harder because you always got to expect a knife in the back so they can get your stuff. You are lucky if you keep your flesh after the sweet release of death… Still, they are useful if you keep your senses sharp and outsmart them. Dangers from outside, dangers from within, dangers from below… Survival of the fittest.

The Land of Death, the Land of Outcasts, settlements build from scrap either on the side of cliffs or, if you are lucky to know a magic wielder, build with balloons floating in the air a couple of feet above. Because nobody dares to sleep on the ground…