The Raven Lands, a sweeping frontier delineating the boundaries of New Gaslight, embody a sprawling titan of geographical disparity. Spanning what seems an endless distance, to traverse them on foot would take not merely one or two, but dozens upon dozens of moons. Here lies a testament to nature's unchecked power, a primal display of raw terrain that alternates between arresting beauty and daunting ferocity. The lands fluctuate between razor-sharp cliffs, sprawling mires, sulphuric bogs, unscalable mountains, and deep gulches - pits that gape like the mouth of an ancient leviathan. Yet, within this brutal harshness lies a fierce allure that beckons the stout-hearted and stout-willed.
As New Gaslight recedes into the distance, the towering sunflowers and green plant life of the city gracefully wanes, surrendering to a remarkable spectrum of red hues. This gradual metamorphosis from green to red paints an eerie, bloodstained gradient that stretches outwards from the city's edge into the unyielding heart of the Raven Lands. The result is a gradient of colors as haunting as it is captivating, the shift from green to red serving as a constant reminder of the region's transformation under the influence of the Maelstrom.
Within the embrace of Morrigan's misty tendrils, a grotesque grouping of hybrid horrors wanders the wild. Among these are the Lizard Drinkers, a testament to the adaptive potency of life under the most extreme conditions. The creatures and beasts of the fog imbue the land with a palpable aura of menace. Water is a scarce resource in the Maelstrom, adding a further layer of harshness to an already hostile environment. The scarcity of this vital resource has driven the local fauna, including the formidable Lizard Drinkers, to adapt in horrific ways, from drawing sustenance from the radiation-laden fog to gorging on the blood of their kills to quench their thirst. It is this blood, the life force of the lizards, the creatures that have evolved to be immune to the harsh UV rays of the Maelstrom that gives the Lizard Drinkers their sanguine color.
Complementing these macabre creatures is a host of botanical life forms, each as foreign and unsettling as their faunal counterparts. Flourishing under the harsh, ultraviolet glow, these plants stand proudly in an array of lurid reds. The contrast between the green of the city and the crimson wilderness that lies beyond creates a visual dichotomy as startling as it is symbolic - the verdant past against a red-stained present, a stark reminder of Earth's cataclysmic metamorphosis.
Among the ever-changing borders of the Raven Lands stand the Raven Towers, slender yet towering monoliths that rise defiantly from the blood-red terrain. Piercing the sickly green maelstrom sky, their lofty peaks stand well above the highest reach of the fog's undulating expanse, offering an unobstructed panoramic view of the tumultuous landscape. Designed as an eccentricity of architectural and natural fusion, the towers double as sanctuaries for the city's substantial corvid population. Facades wrought with hollows and crevices, purpose-built to foster nesting, the towers reverberate with the perpetual cacophony of corvid coos and caws, a living testament to their vital presence. Each tower is equipped with living quarters, a repository of reading materials for the long, solitary vigils, and supplies to last forty days and forty nights. Despite the supplies, survival in the spires is a testament to human grit and determination. Although cases of starvation in unreachable towers are rare, they serve as stark reminders that Morrigan is indeed a harsh mistress.
Communication, that fragile yet essential thread binding the sprawling Raven Lands to the heart of the city, is crucial for survival and coordination. Bridging the yawning chasms between the isolated Raven Towers, an intricate network of crow code stations forms the sinewy veins of this expansive body. Each station, humming with the whispers of coded messages, operate on a system that intricately mimics the coos and caws of corvids. These carefully modulated signals, intelligible only to the Guard, ferry urgent messages across the rough and rugged landscape, crossing canyons and cliffs, valleys and gulches. This closed-loop circuit of information serves as a lifeline, pulsing with the city's heartbeat, ensuring that no tower, no Guard, is ever truly alone. Majestically crowning each tower, a massive spotlight slices through the fog's veil, casting long, eerie fingers of illumination into the obscurity. From a distance, these spotlights appear as a constellation of terrestrial stars, a spectral beacon in the maddening shroud of the Maelstrom, a symbol of the Raven Guard's unwavering vigilance.
It is within the towering vigil of these spires that the Raven Guard stands sentinel. Amidst the harsh beauty and alien horror of the red-streaked expanses, they hold their ground as custodians of New Gaslight's borders, their resolve a beacon of resilience and hope in the face of the ceaseless, encroaching Maelstrom. The Guard is more than just a protective force; they are the torchbearers of human tenacity and adaptability, a symbol of our unyielding will to thrive even as the world around us shifts into a monstrous, unfamiliar reality.
As guardians of New Gaslight's borderlands, the Raven Guard's role is manifold. Their duty ranges from recording the ever-evolving Maelstrom, marking its shifting contours and patterns, to leading rescue and recovery operations when settlements are overwhelmed by the fog. The Raven Lands are fluid, defined by the undulating dance of Morrigan's Maelstrom. Despite the apparent menace of their encroachment, seldom does the fog penetrate the boundaries of New Gaslight proper. However, with unpredictability at the heart of the Maelstrom, the Guard remains ever vigilant, prepared for any unforeseen escalation.
The Raven Guard comprises an eclectic mix of volunteers, Morrigan devotees, monks, lineage-bound warriors, and even prisoners on duty. Despite their disparate backgrounds, a shared, unflinching resolution unites them - to stand between the known city and the unknown periphery. As the city's law enforcement, the Torquemadas, do not patrol these areas, the burden of defending them falls squarely on the Raven Guard. They are the last line of defense, standing between the Lizard Drinkers and the unsuspecting citizens of the panopticon towns. Their constant surveillance ensures the safety of the settlements scattered across the Raven Lands, particularly the Panopticon mining towns controlled by Queen Dedlock. Each attack by the Lizard Drinkers, each disappearance of a settlement into the fog's embrace, is met with immediate and unyielding resistance.
The Raven Lands echo with the cries of the corvids, a continuous reminder of the ethereal connection between Morrigan and her namesake birds. These creatures, revered for their association with the deity, are believed to appease the wrath of the Maelstrom. Nurturing them, attending to their needs, and providing homes within the Raven Towers, it's a gesture of respect, an unspoken plea for the fog to spare the remainder of the city. This delicate dance of cohabitation forms a unique balance between the humans and the corvids, a bond that transcends mere survival and touches upon the mystical.
This symbiosis of rugged natural splendor, the alien terror of creatures like the Lizard Drinkers, the ominous beauty of the Maelstrom-altered flora, the solemn duty of the Raven Guard, and the mystical presence of the corvids form the heart of the Raven Lands. These lands, a world unto themselves, are an embodiment of transformation and adaptation, a symbol of endurance, and the haunting reminder of a world that was - and a world that is. Thus, the Raven Lands stand, a testament to mother nature's indomitable spirit, her inherent beauty, and the chilling horror of the unknown.