The Ghost Desert is a place seldom ever mentioned or spoken of in casual conversation. It is a place where not even the giants of the nearby Great East dare to tread. They believe that the sand is ground-up bone, that the winds carry the screams of the damned. Unnatural things linger there. Shapes stand on top of hills only to disappear out of the corner of the onlookers' eyes. Something is wrong here.
Very wrong.
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Long ago, when humanity first stood upright on Skellbrieg, they divided into several tribes. Those who stayed in Midland would become Isuldorian, Aralgnorian, Korgon, early Morrogoth, or any number of the smaller fiefdoms. Those who traveled west would more than likely colonize Swan Island, while those who went south more than likely disappeared entirely. But those who migrated to the east were curious folk indeed. Many stayed near Dragon Canyon, wedging themselves between the monsters there and the giants of the Great East. These would become the Rhushan.
However, many tribes continued to go further east. Only, they were never heard from again.
Legends tell of a civil strife that tore these tribes apart, reducing their numbers to nothing. The vast haunting grounds are merely them looking for a home, or at least someone to hold in the freezing desert night. Other stories pertain to them establishing the greatest empire ever seen on Earth, only to have it crumble away during a cataclysm. Yet those who would seek out the answers to these mysteries will forever be plagued by them, lest they suffer the curse brought upon by the bone-white sand.
The voices on the wind carry the message of death, after all. There is no life in the Ghost Desert, only those who wish they had it.
Those with the imagination to conjure up the olden days of what the Ghost Desert might have contained are purely artisans who have heard whispers of prospectors and explorers who managed to tread close enough to that place. The story of Yurien Morrowgale is one such cautionary tale.
A painter and a mage in training, Yurien first heard about the Ghost Desert while practicing ice magic with his mentor Talhoff. Transfixed by the idea, he packed up during the night and escaped eastward, determined to make his fortune by bringing its secrets back to Midland.
Along the way, his inquisitorial nature was met with skeptic glares and hushed tones. No one would give him information about the place without asking him why he would do such a foolish thing. He only responded "curiosity" before rushing off to the next clue. He even managed to journey his way to the land of the giants, where his "curiosity" was met with almost the same reaction, with a few hearty laughs to break up the monotony.
"You go to your death, boy!" and "I'll hear your screams tonight and sleep soundly!" were common to Yurien's ears in those days.
But, for some reason, he continued undeterred, hypnotized by the secrecy now.
One day, he finally reached the border between the Great East and the Ghost Desert. The sudden disparity shook him internally. Whereas the blinding blue skies and hot sands met him on one side, as soon as he stepped onto the bone-white landscape waiting for him, he felt...cold. This was from the last journal entry he made, a book he left behind in the land of the living.
That evening, much to a certain giant's delight, a bloodcurdling scream echoed across the Phoenix City, and Yurien disappeared forever.
But ever since then, the sightings of humanoid husks on the horizon have increased - exponentially. Perhaps Yurien's disappearance awakened something else entirely...
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