The Fell

Scattered across the frigid north boreal in varying states of decay are the corpses of fantastical beings. These beasts were violently thrust into North Tugrug by a storm anomaly that burns tunnels between planes of existence. While no two of these planar storms are alike, all can be characterized by the violent chaos that follows them. Howls, hisses and yelps cut through the air as extraplanar creatures are flung into the tundra. Some simply have no chance of survival due to vast environmental disparities, exploding, igniting, or desiccating upon entry. For the survivors, a brutal Darwinian arena is created - demanding they find their place in the food chain of a strange new land known as The Fell.

The Fell is littered with camps. Many who live in the Fell are driven by profit - extraplanar beasts do have their market. Others are driven by more scholarly pursuits - such as the study and applications of extra planar material. Regardless of motive, all denizens of the Fell watch the unfolding of every storm intently. For the lucky observer it allows a glimpse into the hunting styles of what could be dangerous new apex predators. The wealthy and arrogant often pay escorts that they may lay witness to the spectacle, chittering on their carriages and rickshaws as they make their bets on what kills what.

Magicians, alchemists, ringmasters and connoisseurs of obscura are well known to lay out their fortunes and lock themselves into grievous debts to own such living prizes - something which fuels a landscape of exceptional violence among the Fell. Here is a No Mans Land, one whose denizens are governed only by a loose system of folkways. When it comes to securing extraplanar resources during a storm, any semblance of truce dissolves into a free for all. In the belly of a storm - If not crushed by falling debris or impaled by the tusk of some frightened creature, one is sure to be fallen by the blade driven by a neighbor’s greed.