Drilldown: Locations

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Locations > Leader: None

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None (5) · A naturally reddened outcropping of stone juts out of the salted crag. (1) · A small crack leads down into the earth. (1) · An arcology of bright polyps arches across the soldered trellis of old, and a rich diversity of life peoples it. (1) · Ants in the viridian chaff, the farmers sap the last drops of pristine moisture out of the salt-spangled earth. (1) · Blips in the wave graph of stone over time. (1) · Braids of roots and ribbons of fronds dimensionalize the flat loam. Something's home a discarded leaf makes. (1) · Coral fingers poke out from the spongebed and pierce the algal bloom, where white esh flock in the hundreds. (1) · Eons-shifted stone entombs the angleless architecture of Bethsaida's lair. (1) · Here crumble the mysterious Eaters' vine-swathed works, spun on the cyclopean lathe in an ageless past. Chrome steeples and parapets that rise above the clutches of shale hint at the labyrinths beneath them. (1) · Here lies the Garden of Geth, from whose ancient coordinates seeds sprouted in spite of the earth's churlishness. (1) · Hex prisms burst out of black marble beds, and their edges decohere as warm static dew. The Stair purrs at low frequency. (1) · In stagnant pools, luminous lilies compete with the ribbon of stars in the night sky. Under the salt sun, though, they shrink into the shade of brine weed. (1) · In the wave graph of stone over time, where the world plates once vexed themselves into war, a quiet peace has settled. (1) · Long ago the rivers themselves were ravenous, and they feasted on shale and limestone before taking bloated respite in the Great Salt Sea. Now the fissure-wounds have rotted to crimson and salt. (1) · Prismatic filament colonizes the cracks between the salted rot. There are meadows here, She says. (1) · Rampant greenspread canopies a starburst of the Eaters' richest works. The jungle is torn at the corners, where crysteel balustrades and star orchid lancets peek through. (1) · Red qudzu vines take as their trellises chrome wells bored into the earth. (1) · Rubble encases this abandoned mine where ancient tribes siphoned the black blood for their own inscrutable purposes. (1) · Shrouded in the rotting jungle are the mouths of the rust-caves of Golgotha, chrome's graveyard. (1) · Spanning the sky rusts a metal archway under which passed the chrome gargantuans canonized in the elder canticles. (1) · Spores dance in eddies across kaleidoscopic fungal bonnets. Rivers of primordial soup, cast in the light of lava, gurgle a quickening melody. (1) · The grove's million laced fingers sway in gentle opulence. Verdant fronds nestle the base of the Spindle from its mountainous nook. (1) · The ivory sea's dunes are like waves frozen in place. There are cracks in the salt from where the earth, blistered by the jeweled sun, contracted and broke. The horizon melts the sky together with the vast plain of Moghra'yi, the Great Salt Desert. (1) · Thriving florae pack the loam with maze-dense roots, and a high-wreath canopy chokes off the last beams of light. (1) · Through the prismatic umbrage fly the archways and buttresses of the monuments above the catacombs of the Eaters of earth. (1)
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