• Manhunt Begins (1)

On the very ends of the Continent where the world beyond was an ever-stretching expanse of sand and death, the Heaths stretched out before the horizon like a dry, desolate wound carved into the world.

This land was far beyond the habitable and fairly comfortable land the Gentlefolks enjoyed. It was cracked and brittle, a lifeless wasteland where the sun sat heavy in the sky, glaring down with a cruel intensity.

The air was always suffocating, dry and very thin filled with wind that carried nothing but the smell of suffering and the sting of sand and ash. Nothing flourished here. The earth had given up on the people of this place long ago, and they survived only by sheer stubbornness.

One look in the sky above and all one would see was an endless wash of pale yellows and browns. There were no clouds to soften the brutal sunlight. Shadows were scarce, and when they did appear, they were thin and fleeting, offering little comfort.