Ullonwï

Long, elongated islands stand as guardians against the freezing northern winds heading from the north. Between them opens wide passages to the mainlands through a wide bay stretching toward east and west alike. The coastline seems always drowned in an ocean of thick, milky fog, be it day or night. It's almost a miracle any light gets through at all.

Beyond the rocks and sandy beaches lies a broadleaf forest thriving with life both mundane and a bit beyond. The land, itself quite steady and lacking any noticeable formations of hills or cliffs, is laced with ponds and lakes isolated from northern ocean. Rivers run from the south, where taller foothills finally lead toward higher ground.

Both the flora and fauna of Ullonwï seem completely normal compared to those found in the rest of the world. Different, of course, but normal. Most of the fauna, particularly, has evolved to endure the invisible dangers of the western continent.

Flora here, however, present a danger for any not accustomed to the land. Roots, leaves, berries, all parts reveal themselves poisonous when consumed in excess. The same applies to every inch of every mushroom and bush and all other plant life in the region, from the tiniest grass to the tallest of trees.

Beneath layers upon layers of earth and flora lie deep scars left from nameless events of ancient times. Alas, no one is left to tell the tales from those days, and by the beginning of the Second Age when three ships brought the Merientei to Ullonwï, not much was left to notice in the first place.