* wasted lands

Fire ran through the long blades of grass, burning everything down to ask. The tree hold the scars caused by the great cleansing and the strength of the god here, rains supreme. Rain is a blessing in this piece of the territory and few liven things, live for long among the dust and ash. The Wasted Lands, sacred as they are, belong to the god of war, Aromian. The legends speak that the god used his newly given power over the earth - when he was a newly born god - to cast out a great fire among the ground. The gods had given this place to Aromian afterward as a way for him to meet those who worshipful him in peace, seeing as not many others would dare walk in this area. Fire wreck havoc in the area every year as the god wants the land to stay down and wants the tribe to remember who owns this land. He wants this place a place of fear, a place of war. Some even say that if you look close enough smell close enough, you can see, smell, and even taste the blood of cats that have fallen here. There is nothing against fighting here, and some say that the spirits of those slain here never leave and that you can still hear their ghostly screams as they try to rest.