ES13 -- End of Dunkirk - Parks District
The end of Dunkirk Road also marks the northeastern-most boundary of Aleswich's maintained lands. Once clear-cut by hungry logging companies, the area is beginning to revert back to its natural state. Muddy trails cut through rolling hills and large, exposed boulders covered with moss. Creeping kudzu seems at war with twisting thorn bushes and tenacious underbrush. Deep ditches once used for drainage play home to stagnant waters teaming with life. Overall the impression is that of nature repairing itself with an angry vengeance.
Despite the seemingly feral nature of the area, it has become a popular spot for dirt bikes and ATVs, drawn to the remnants of logging roads and abundance of tire-swallowing mud puddles. A few unofficial camp grounds have sprouted up where the underbrush has been cut back by campers looking to have a taste of the wilderness close to home. To the east, closer to the Bay's northern edge, the terrain becomes nearly impassable with jagged rocks rising abruptly amid unstable marshland. A proper forest begins to the west where logging companies were stopped from exploiting the land after this scar on the Earth was made. Heading south returns one towards Aleswich proper and civilization.
To the west, it's green grass at the Arcadian Belt and then an abrupt line demarking the edge of that brood's territory. To the south, it's crushed and tumbling bone fragments and then an abrupt line demarking the edge of that brood's territory. To the east, a bit of barren soil that flows into the sea. From there, the land goes flat. No trees here, no greenery, not even grass or weed. It's all barren and blasted low, rolling hills. Even the dirt is wrong, it's all mud caked with salt, thick and slurping, clogging up the works so that motion becomes slower. Harder. The mountains in the distance are a great black loom; not so distant here in the Hisil. They're a hulking monster instead, far closer than they ought to be. No wait! There's some... huh. Trees? No. No, those aren't trees, are they? Are they? Maybe it's a forest in winter, those stark poles stuck upright out of the earth ahead? It's a great swath of them, blocking further path towards those mountains. As forests go, it's remarkably bare of leaves or shrubbery or any other sort of usual identifier. From here, what's visible is only that the shapes are upright and leaning here and there, as if a giant had gathered pick-up sticks and dropped them into the mud to stick upright.
Everyone walking here can feel it in their bones. The wrongness of this place is an ache, soul-deep, heart-deep. It sets skin crawling with the awareness that horrid, terrible, world-raping things were done here once upon a time and the Hisil Remembers. It will always Remember, and just being here is enough to feel the shame of the victim, the awful joy of the attacker.
Moving further in, it becomes clearer. Not trees, no. Not tress at all. Those are trunks, but they're trunks set upright in gashes in the earth. Set upright and weeping red, bleeding through cracks in their trunks. Gobbets of flesh here and there up near the sharpened points suggest leaves, but only the most disgusting sort of leaves. There's movement up there, movement through that faux-forest. Spirits, tainted beyond recognition drifting and going about their business where they can't be seen without going... going into the forest itself. Nevermind going through it to reach the mountains and mines beyond. That's just crazytalk.
Places of Note
- Brown Family Garage and Junkyard
- Exham Penitentiary
- Shifter: Natures Dissonance
- Sin-Eater: House of Mirrors
- Mage: C-42
- Anyone Else:
NPCs Of Any Sort Found Here
- To be added.