The Barrier Islands
Enclosing the southernmost areas of Rosha in a ring that could either be protection or containment, the Barrier Islands enclose a phenomenon both fantastic and horrific - the great Mystic Storm. Rising like tall sentinels frozen in time from the depths of the Naurr, or ‘Fyre’ Ocean, they are the ragged remnants of what was once the second largest continent of the world. In the 3201 vin. a cataclysmic explosion shook the entirety of Rosha, and destroyed the landmass that once covered the southern pole. All that is left now is the ring of jagged islands to warn of the destructive energy of the Mystic Storm, a broken fence called the Barrier Islands. The question is... do they only bar entrance... or exit as well?
Widely varying in size from towering monoliths to low hummocks, broad tracts nearly 200 miles in length to outcrops barely large enough to sustain a few mussels and birdnests, the islands number in the hundreds of thousands. The exact number has never been determined, and indeed, perhaps it can’t. The Mystic Storm has a habit of rearranging things every so often. Travel beyond the ring of the Barrier by ship is suicide; the unpredictable currents between the islands themselves can rip a vessel to kindling, cast it high upon the rocks, or suck it down whole in great whirlpools. Tall pinnacles of granite thrust dagger-sharp to tower high above the restless surface of the Naurr, and beneath that swirling brine similar blades of stone lie concealed to shred into a ship like a shark into the soft body of a tender fish. Not even the most powerful magical protections can adequately guard against the dangers of the Barrier.
Even on the miraculous chance of a ship managing to navigate successfully beyond the Barrier itself, the Mystic Storm will crush and discard it, and anyone on it, without even noticing that they were there. Violent crimson whirlpools form from nothing to suck greedily at anything hapless enough to be within reach, and volcanoes randomly plunge up out of the water, seeming to deliberately seek out any intruder as they vomit boiling jets of poisonous mud, fill the air with burning ash, or fire balls of snow and ice the size of bulls. What at first seems a gentle, if oddly colored cloud of rain, reveals itself to the dismay of the unfortunate victim as a storm of liquid fire. Waterspouts rise and lash with no warning, flinging slivers of ice deadly as the finest steel blade to shred sails, flesh and anything else soft. A large enough ice-spear can even penetrate the strongest wood and metal. Broad sheets of violet-hued lighting arc upward in dancing splendor to fence curtains of brilliant lava that seems to flow downward out of thin air, vanishing again just above the suddenly placid and glassy surface of the water, an illusion of peace that never lasts long. Brilliantly vivid butterflies larger than the greatest Roc or dragon swoop and flutter out of nowhere, only to change into great boulders just before they plunge into the water. Gently roiling fog the color of fresh, dewy blueberries will wisp up out of the ocean and solidify into the form of great translucent mist-titans, only to collapse into a rain of bright, fragrant blossoms that float down, exploding with vindictive violence as soon as they touch the water. Even from the inner islands of the Barrier, the strongest will can be shattered into raving insanity merely by watching the splendid horror of the Mystic Storm for a short while.
Very few humanoids can survive the mind-consuming terrors of the great tempest, and most are not adventurous - or foolish - enough to even try. Those select few who are either strong or insane enough to live there make their homes in a surreal and daunting landscape. Nowhere else is there such diversity and variety of life. In the very heart of the Mystic Storm, the transport still wages endless battle with the native Fyres of Rosha, and now the corrupt and insidious Bane Stone has joined the fray as well. Every so often the transport manages to reach out, tearing people, creatures, plants and even strange or familiar objects from distant dimensions, universes, planes and times, often casting them haphazard upon the Barrier Islands, to survive, fail or exist as best they may.
Widely varying in size from towering monoliths to low hummocks, broad tracts nearly 200 miles in length to outcrops barely large enough to sustain a few mussels and birdnests, the islands number in the hundreds of thousands. The exact number has never been determined, and indeed, perhaps it can’t. The Mystic Storm has a habit of rearranging things every so often. Travel beyond the ring of the Barrier by ship is suicide; the unpredictable currents between the islands themselves can rip a vessel to kindling, cast it high upon the rocks, or suck it down whole in great whirlpools. Tall pinnacles of granite thrust dagger-sharp to tower high above the restless surface of the Naurr, and beneath that swirling brine similar blades of stone lie concealed to shred into a ship like a shark into the soft body of a tender fish. Not even the most powerful magical protections can adequately guard against the dangers of the Barrier.
Even on the miraculous chance of a ship managing to navigate successfully beyond the Barrier itself, the Mystic Storm will crush and discard it, and anyone on it, without even noticing that they were there. Violent crimson whirlpools form from nothing to suck greedily at anything hapless enough to be within reach, and volcanoes randomly plunge up out of the water, seeming to deliberately seek out any intruder as they vomit boiling jets of poisonous mud, fill the air with burning ash, or fire balls of snow and ice the size of bulls. What at first seems a gentle, if oddly colored cloud of rain, reveals itself to the dismay of the unfortunate victim as a storm of liquid fire. Waterspouts rise and lash with no warning, flinging slivers of ice deadly as the finest steel blade to shred sails, flesh and anything else soft. A large enough ice-spear can even penetrate the strongest wood and metal. Broad sheets of violet-hued lighting arc upward in dancing splendor to fence curtains of brilliant lava that seems to flow downward out of thin air, vanishing again just above the suddenly placid and glassy surface of the water, an illusion of peace that never lasts long. Brilliantly vivid butterflies larger than the greatest Roc or dragon swoop and flutter out of nowhere, only to change into great boulders just before they plunge into the water. Gently roiling fog the color of fresh, dewy blueberries will wisp up out of the ocean and solidify into the form of great translucent mist-titans, only to collapse into a rain of bright, fragrant blossoms that float down, exploding with vindictive violence as soon as they touch the water. Even from the inner islands of the Barrier, the strongest will can be shattered into raving insanity merely by watching the splendid horror of the Mystic Storm for a short while.
Very few humanoids can survive the mind-consuming terrors of the great tempest, and most are not adventurous - or foolish - enough to even try. Those select few who are either strong or insane enough to live there make their homes in a surreal and daunting landscape. Nowhere else is there such diversity and variety of life. In the very heart of the Mystic Storm, the transport still wages endless battle with the native Fyres of Rosha, and now the corrupt and insidious Bane Stone has joined the fray as well. Every so often the transport manages to reach out, tearing people, creatures, plants and even strange or familiar objects from distant dimensions, universes, planes and times, often casting them haphazard upon the Barrier Islands, to survive, fail or exist as best they may.
Notable & Notorious Individuals