Charred Dominion of Enduring Flame: A Land of Cinders
The earth here is blackened and brittle, split by veins of once-molten stone. Trees stand as skeletal reminders of what once was, their bark petrified, their roots scorched. Ash drifts like snow on the wind, painting the land in shades of gray. But even in this ruin, life clings on—not soft or gentle, but sharpened by heat and loss.
Those who remain do not rebuild. They adapt. They bend with the fire, not against it. Their cities are shaped from obsidian and tempered steel, their leaders forged in flame and hardened by betrayal. Fire has taken much from this land, but it has also revealed its truth: what does not burn, survives. And what survives, rules.
A land of endless fire and restless earth, the Cinderscar is a scar upon the world, where the ground bleeds molten rock and the air burns with the sting of sulfur. Towering obsidian cliffs rise over rivers of fire, while jagged craters mark the scars of past eruptions—some ancient, others unsettlingly fresh. This place is volatile, unstable, and undeniably alive.
Yet, there is power here, buried beneath the cracked and smoldering terrain. Some say the flames are fueled by more than natural forces, that the ember of an older world still smolders beneath the ash. Scholars seek its secrets, warlords crave its strength, and zealots fear what may awaken if the fire is left unchecked.
But Cinderscar does not care for mortal ambition. The flames rise, the ground trembles, and the past refuses to stay buried. Those who come seeking power must tread carefully, for in this land, fire does not grant—it consumes.
The fire passed—but its lessons remain.