Corrupts have always traversed across Atalav as they please—who is there to stand in their way, after all? And still the corrupts of Ghosgate seem to be an entirely separate strain, more viscous in nature and eager to hurt. The ground is picked clean of anything but bones and bloodstains, loot and meat frequently trading hands. Rodents and other carnivores pick through the scraps on the ground, quickly making themselves scarce in the presence of the more fierce predators before returning to clean another bone. What wooden structures remaining standing never truly belong to “anyone”, sometimes seeing a new owner as often as nightly. New inhabitants are likely to be attacked the moment they set foot in the sparse woods of Ghosgate by old-timers eager to test out the mental fortitude of any new corrupt; if you cannot make it through even this initiation ceremony, you will never make it until the end of your first day, regardless. For non-corrupts to enter these woods is akin to suicide.

The rumble of Ghosgate’s volcano never ceases and lava has rendered the land uninhabitable for most. Soil cannot hold seeds, and the weather fluctuates wildly, some years sparing the population with a cold winter, only for the next few years to pass in a state of unending, blisteringly dry heat. Its next-door neighbor, bountiful Hernlak, is often the victim of stray corrupts hoping to secure food or items. 

Some parts of Atalav are more rich in X than others, and Ghosgate, ironic as it is, teems with energy. Where X is typically not noticeable in the air unless extremely dense, and a rather “pleasant” energy, the X which broils the very earth of Ghosgate is unnaturally chaotic, at times manifesting as dense, treacherous fog. The same fog which supposedly hosts all those who fell at Ghosgate’s borders many years ago… It is using this unstable form of X that the corrupted perfected the Chaos Collection, spells based on brutality and harm, echoing the sentiments of the corrupted. These tricks, regardless of the skills of their caster, always harm the user as much as they do the victims, unleashing hurt unto the world twice fold. This, however, has never stopped its followers from continuing to develop spells more foul, more depraved. Let the power of this world twist itself in the hands of those willing to sacrifice anything, and anyone, to use it.

Whereas many other faunid locations have prominent architectural styles rooted in a long history influenced by the environment and residents, Ghosgate’s lawlessness and chaos has made it difficult for anything beyond rudimentary structures to exist for long. It is not uncommon for the ground to shake and crack, taking into itself both buildings and creatures, leaving the landscape forever changed. Corrupts will make do of whatever materials are available, many of them unstable and rotting, and doomed to fall before long. Spoils of war, stolen from kills or other areas, are the closest you will get to a consistent choice of “decor.” In Ghosgate, “a place to stay” is always temporary, unless you are one of the Corrupts residing in the base of the great volcano. Over time, Corrupts have dug into its rocky foundation, carving hollows, thin caverns, and hallways throughout the volcano—if you wish to stay here, your best bet is to kill for it. Those with more permanent “homes” in place tend to fill them to the brim as a sign of their prowess, whether that be the torn antler of a fellow corrupt or a poor, dead faunid’s special trinket. Perhaps that radiating heat from within is as close to a joyful summer as they will ever get.

Before Atalav was “Atalav,” the young faun Fenris lived and followed the great Herne. Despite being Herne’s direct subordinate, the Anarchist continued to question his mentor, challenging the beliefs which had always been held unquestionably by those around him. As time passed and Fenris’ relentless assault on Herne’s universal truths continued, his very self began to change—he acquired tricks and powers beyond an ordinary faun, ones that should have only ever belonged to Herne, slowly unraveling the truths of this world. One day, while debating the ethics of death and sustainability, their verbal arguments finally escalated into a physical altercation. Where their antlers met, the ground split. Where they stepped, craters formed. And where Fenris finally fell, stabbed in a near fatal move and thrown across the land, the Bullran cliffs were carved into the earth. After his loss, Fenris was condemned to a lifetime in the shadows of deadwood forever. Despite this, his presence always lingers throughout Atalav, and more so than anywhere else, in Ghosgate. To fall to corruption is to hear the voice of Fenris’ dissent in your ear and turn not away from it, but toward. In Ghosgate, those whispers are a chorus.

Because of its proximity to Hernlak, Ghosgate has seen many attempts at “cleansing” by warriors from outside. Not once have these attacks succeeded. Upon entering the sparse woods, soldiers faced with the disfigured versions of their former friends and family lost all will to fight—and the corrupted showed them no mercy. Those who did not flee met their end right there at the borders of Ghosgate, their flesh new feed for the soil, their blood and torn feathers the only smatter of color in the dull, lifeless forest. Forever unable to be properly sent off to the otherworld by their loved ones, what remains of these fauns—wandering, confused souls, lost to even the cycle of fawning— is said to move in and out of the thick fog and over the wet moss, cursed to never cross the border and finally flee Ghosgate. Should you convince yourself you have seen them in the mists, know you are already far too close to make it out of Ghosgate safely. These tales are often recounted outside of Ghosgate to warn young fawns: they would do little to steer corrupted away.

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