The Drab Sinks stretch from the walls of Most to the roughly 30 miles south of the Ington. These are cold moors, filled with strange beasts of wild disposition. Tales relate how that dread lord of Chaos, Thorax, the Red Bull, in the days of his power sat upon the mouth of the river and drank from the stream. The songs relate how he choked on the water’s oily brim and vomited much of it back up. What came from the black tar of his bile and loss were creatures of strange mix and kind, wild chaos beasts that haunt the Sinks still. There are deep tar pits here, that trap the unwary, who eventually sink and drown in that forgotten corner of the world’s youth.
No comments:
Post a Comment