Sunlight bleeds through wounds in the sky, while
storm clouds are ripped apart by high winds. The air is heavy
with ozone, created by the onslaught of lightning, shattering
rocks with the thundering cries of tectonic ecstasy. This is the
Blood Steppes.
A waste land. A tormented region, where fearsome breeds of
Titan Spawn live their lives, waiting for the return of their
masters. A place where the war never ended. A place where even
the most heroic falter at the thought of returning to. A place
even the Gods have turned away from.
No place on the crust of earth called Scarn, save perhaps the
Titan Home Mountains, touches the soul with fear, as these foothills,
and collections of canyons bring to any who have traveled here.
Only the Dwarves of Burok Torn can claim victory here, though
the definition of victory has been changed to simply mean surviving
the invasion. Any other army of God races, daring to invade
the Steppes has been slaughtered, with only a few survivors
returning to tell broken and horrible tales in shuddered whispers
over glasses of whiskey held with two shaking hands. Even the
divine might of the Mithril Paladins found no victory in the
Steppes.
"If you travel through the Stepps for an hour without
being attacked, you are lucky. If you travel for two, the Gods
are certainly smiling. If you travel for three, then you are
dead, for the creature stalking you has scared everything else
away." -- Barconius, Leader of the Order of Mithril
