Pariant Wastelands
Introduction
To most, Pariant is little more than a mirage of death. A vast and merciless expanse of scorched earth, crimson stone, whispering sands, and winged predators circling high. Beneath the unblinking eye of a merciless sun, the bones of one of Kena’an’s eldest civilizations bleach and crumble, forgotten by time, haunted by peril. Danger hides in every ruin, and life blooms as rarely as the desert flower: fragile, fleeting, and sacred to the nomadic tribes who still dare name this dust-laden wilderness their ancestral home.
Geography
Once, Pariant was the crowned jewel of Kena'an. A land of endless green, of tangled jungles and living rivers, of salt-lake pearls and cities built atop water and light. Rainclouds rolled in from the Oceara, feeding a land of mythic fertility where great beasts wandered beneath emerald canopies, and the four city-states sang their power in marble, flame, and gold.
No one knows with certainty what calamity unmade the green age. Some speak of a curse that followed a great war. Others believe that Pariant's current state is proof of the wrath of the gods. Whatever the truth is, it lies buried beneath the sand. A thousand years have passed since the fall, and all that remains of the old world are its bones.
Pariant stretches across the southernmost reaches of the known world; now a land scorched by sun, silence, and memory. To its north, cracked shores are kissed by the tides of the inland Sea of Syralis. To the east, the Dustpine Mountains rise like worn teeth, marking the border with Louthiran, the dwarven kingdom of stone and tradition. But south and west, the land falls into endless blue: the unexplored vastness of the Oceara, a deep ocean whispered of in sailor myths and storm-laced charts.
The land is mostly flat, a domain of searing red dunes, jagged canyons, and sun-blasted plateaus. Ancient rifts split the ground where the earth once showed its grief, and scattered across the desert are the skeletal remnants of a long-vanished age: half-buried megastructures, temples worn smooth by wind, and towers now home only to silence and sand. They rise from the ground like the ribs of dead giants, solemn echoes of a world that once bloomed.
Yet even here, life endures.
Rare oases dot the land like secrets, hidden pools of life where subterranean springs break through the dust, feeding clusters of stubborn green and fiercely guarded by those who know them. These are the sacred waypoints of the Tir'naru, the nomadic people of Pariant, whose lives are shaped by thirst, memory, and the old paths between stars and salt.
To the east lie the Salt Flats of Rhok, the brightest and most desolate wound in the land. Once a vast saltwater lake, Rhok was the lifeblood of the eastern jungles, its shores lined with gleaming cities and pearl-gathering boats. Now, it is a blinding crust of salt and ghostlight mirages, stretching farther than the eye can bear. Fossilized fish and long-dry river mouths speak of a drowned past. When the wind is still, some say you can hear the lapping of water. But Rhok is dry and has been for a thousand years.
Water is scarce. Settlements rarer still. Those who endure the dust do so in motion, for permanence invites death. The Tir'naru, dust-marked tribes born of hardship and heritage, are Pariant’s last children. They roam the desert wastes, tracing forgotten riverbeds and sacred paths, ever bound to the memory of four ancient city-states whose names are fading, but not yet lost.
“Blessed is the cradle. Cursed be the hand that shattered it.”
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History
It is said the world began in Pariant.
When the twin gods Novirath and Haestrom shaped Kena’an from the void, they began with this land. Novirath, the Sun-Father, cast his light downward and breathed the bones of the earth into being. Haestrom, his brother, raised the sky above it, carving the firmament from wind and flame. In the hollow between them, the first land was born: Pariant, cradle of light and the axis of the world.
Here, before death was a concept, the first humans walked. Some say Novirath gave them immortality. Whatever the truth, the people of Pariant grew under the blessing of the sun, and from their hands rose the first cities. Pariant was never ruled by crown or throne. It was a constellation of independent city-states, each a world unto itself, each proud and strange in its own right. Of these, four rose to greatness.
Ahr' tul, the First City, ruled by the Victranus line; guardians of law, knowledge, and martial legacy.
Talar'ish, where the Eil’baa family held court in veiled groves, their blood said to run close to the fae.
Elenestra, city of song and marble, shaped by the Liverani people, who bound history into stories and sculpted culture from breath.
Ran'dar'al, the high city of stars, ruled by the Javan celestial bloodline, whose rites reached skyward and whose arcane knowledge was unparalleled.
For centuries they flourished; rivaled, perhaps, but never broken. Even when the wider world bowed before the human emperor Agion, champion of Novirath, Pariant remained untouched. Agion, ever reverent of their ancient legacy, let the land bloom alone.
Yet, upon his death, Agion left the realm divided, parceling his empire among his chosen council. To Pariant he gave no descendant, no human heir, but a shadow elf: Mystil Thaurel, a theurge of proud bearing and whispered ambition. Why he chose her, none can say. But after his death, Mystil came to Ahr' tul not as a guest, but a conqueror. The Victranus line was broken in a single night. The First City was taken by might and flame.
Her reign though, proved short and her legacy, ruinous.
The surviving city-states, long independent, united in outrage. Under the banner of the last Victranus exiles, they turned their strength against Ahr' tul. But as war devoured the land, something far older stirred. Here, history buckles beneath the weight of legend. Some say the land itself took vengeance, that Pariant - sacred heart of the world - rose in fury. Others speak of a darker truth: that Mystil, desperate to hold her stolen throne, forged pacts with powers best left unbound. And that in the end, those powers turned against her. Whatever the truth, the final night of the war brought the Darkness of the Lunar Veil, a full cycle of the moon during which no sun rose over the land.
And when light returned, the jungle was gone.
The rivers had turned to dust. The cities lay broken. The queen was dead. And in her place, they say, rose Umb’a’Aran, the Black Mother of the Wastes; a titanic scorpion with an onyx carapace and eyes like obsidian fire. Whether a god’s avatar, a summoned horror, or the land’s own wrath made flesh, none can say. But she has never left. Her shadow still haunts the dunes.
From the ashes of their cities, the survivors emerged changed. No longer bound by walls or thrones, they became the Tir'naru, dust-walkers, memory-keepers, heirs to ruin. They roam still, bound to the land not by power, but by remembrance.
Pariant has not forgiven, and it has not forgotten.
Population & Ecosystem
The land, though blasted and broken, is not lifeless. It breeds things changed by time and hunger.
Phantom Scorpions
Born nearly invisible, these translucent predators grow slowly, and their glasslike carapaces darken into opalescent armor with time. They are both feared and revered, thought to be the distant brood of Umb’a’Aran, the Black Mother.Scorchbeasts
Winged predators that nest along the jagged cliffs of the Salt Flats of Rhok, they glide silently across the desert sky and kill with precision. Their bodies exhale heat, and their eyes are drawn to movement beneath the sand.Whisperroots
Parasitic flora that grow near ancient ruins, their tendrils shift toward sound and vibration. They have the ability to mimic voices of the dead and create haunting illusions around the areas where they grow in.
The Tir'naru, born of exile and ruin, now roam the broken, dusty bones of their homeland. They are one people splintered into five clans, each bearing a different thread of ancestry and belief, but all bound to the land’s memory. Some hunt for relics in the ruins, others guard sacred sites with blades and blood rites. To them, Pariant is not merely a home, it is a scar that never healed, a godwound in the earth.
Among them, few stories are told more often than that of The Veiled Oasis. Said to be a place that moves with the will of the land, it appears only to the lost, the worthy, or the desperate. At its center, if the stories are to be trusted, grows the Root of Eternity, a pale-veined bloom said to reverse age, restore strength, and even stave off death when brewed correctly. Young clan warriors often vanish into the wastes seeking it. Most are never seen again. But those who return speak of shimmering mirages, strange winds, and a divine stillness that listens.
All written content is original, drawn from myth, memory, and madness.
All images are generated via Midjourney using custom prompts by the author, unless otherwise stated.
A broken land and at the end of it all, at the end of blood, loss, sorrow and anger, there may also be corruption and lies. The perceived conqueror and bringer of Ruination perhaps actually one attempting salvation and to stop the inevitable. It may be the human in me, however I cannot trust the so called 'empire of mankind' in any sense to have been the truly moral faction in this regard. Regardless of who invoked such wrath, though great and mighty, and with aide perhaps from forces divine, Nature does as it is want to do. We, no matter our numbers, are insignificant. We merely are part of the larger web of life and ultimately, should the world and environments we call home decide to shrug, or find us irritating like a rash or worse an infection, well. Such will be the result. I adore this, its a wonderful story, a harrowing land with tragic history and hidden secrets still waiting to be discovered, parts of its story perhaps veiled in lies, treachery and the foolhardiness of mortal kind. Beautifully written Imagica! :) Certainly tucking this one into my collection!
Thanks Keon! There are a lot more to say about this part of the world at some point. Its people and history are some of my favorite topics to write in this world :)