Neft Plane

The Neft Plane is a realm defined by its harsh and unforgiving geography, perpetually shrouded in a crimson twilight that casts long, disorienting shadows. This ceaseless, dim, red-tinged firmament eliminates any concept of true day or night, fostering a constant atmosphere of apprehension. More than just a visual oddity, the very air of Neft pulses with erratic and unpredictable arcane forces. These potent energies are capable of dramatically reshaping entire regions, altering topography, ecology, and even the fundamental properties of matter within a matter of days. This pervasive flux demands unwavering vigilance and adaptability from every creature that calls Neft home, making survival a constant struggle against an ever-changing environment.   At the heart of the Neft Plane sprawls a colossal, bleeding marshland, its viscous, crimson-hued, semi-living fluid oozing outward towards the plane's distant borders. This isn't mere water, but a toxic slurry of organic residue, providing a grotesque cradle for twisted and mutated forms of marine-like life. Beneath its murky surface lurk gargantuan, leech-like creatures, while monstrous plants can bloom to immense sizes overnight during periods of heightened arcane energy, ominously termed "Swell Cycles." The deepest abyssal hollows of this mire are rumored to be the dwelling place of Gormungar, the Abyssal Serpent, a creature of immense power. The native Blrugd, hulking, many-legged marsh colossi, are the apex wallowers of these lands, their very biology intricately keyed to the Neft's planar rhythms. Adding to the enigma of this region, the mysterious Marsh Wizard operates primarily from within these sprawling, bleeding wetlands, their arcane practices undoubtedly intertwined with the marsh's unique properties.   Dominating the northern horizon is a towering, enigmatic Obelisk, a structure of such immense scale that it pierces the dim crimson sky and is visible from any direction across the plane. For some, it is a sacred node, a source of profound spiritual power, while others perceive it as a cursed beacon, radiating an unknown and potentially malevolent force. This alien spire was originally erected by the Nighlock, invaders from another world, who, upon its construction, briefly shifted the plane's balance of power with its formidable energy before their eventual retreat. In the aftermath, the primordial deicides known as the Korvrak rose to become the "Obelisk Holders," conquering and mastering its volatile energies, integrating its raw power into the very fabric of their societal structures and rituals. Adding to the Obelisk's mystique, Hu'tod, a Bovidea warlord renowned for his immense strength and cunning, is also known as the "Master of the Obelisk," suggesting a unique dominion over its powers. Furthermore, the Invisible Dragon, a solitary and elusive apex predator, is said to dwell in the immediate vicinity of this monumental structure, hinting at its hidden dangers and profound influence.   The southern edge of the Neft Plane is demarcated by an infinite wall of bone, stretching endlessly from east to west. Beyond this formidable boundary, a corrosive mist seethes and swirls, a pale green shroud capable of dissolving nearly all known materials with terrifying speed. The sole exception to this destructive force is the rare substance known as Creatine. This thick, pale green mist rapidly dissolves flesh and equipment, rendering ventures beyond the bone wall exceedingly perilous. Many who dare to cross this boundary are never seen again, their fate sealed by the relentless corrosion. Creatine, a mineral uniquely resistant to this destructive fog, is a highly valued commodity, meticulously mined from the depths near the bone wall. It is essential for forging durable equipment and constructing shelters that can withstand the encroaching mist. Adding to the eerie and inhospitable landscape of this region, gnarled bone-trees, their pale bark calcified into spines, sprout at the very edge of this southern wall, their skeletal forms a stark testament to the plane's enduring harshness.   To the west, the Black Sand Sea unfolds—a vast and desolate desert composed entirely of obsidian grains that shift and swirl in unpredictable and often violent patterns. Whispers and rumors persist of hidden horrors lurking beneath these black dunes, entities capable of stirring up violent supernatural sandstorms known as "Shadow Cyclones" whenever the deep silence of the desert is disturbed. These formidable twisters are not only capable of shredding anything in their path but also possess the unnerving ability to twist and distort local magic, adding another layer of inherent danger to an already treacherous landscape. The Black Sand Sea is also infamous for its sudden and extreme thermal fluctuations; temperatures can plummet to a severe chill during "Gloom Cycles," freezing the obsidian grains into sharp, brittle shards, or superheated gusts can transform the dunes into a scalding black tide during "Swell Cycles." Further enhancing the perils of this region, burrowing serpents, perfectly camouflaged in the obsidian grains, frequently surface to ambush unsuspecting travelers, their strikes swift and deadly.   The eastern region of the Neft Plane stands in stark contrast to the other desolate territories, often described as a precarious nexus of activity and a place of tenuous hope. Here, amidst craggy outcrops and deep ravines, the resilient E'talin, the enigmatic Jarakians, and the formidable Jrigori have managed to eke out a survival. Despite the Neft's overarching dangers, these major factions attempt to coexist or fiercely contest the land, establishing small enclaves and strongholds wherever possible. Jarakia itself occupies a strategically advantageous plateau-like outcrop, tactically overlooking noxious lowlands and marshes, providing a defensive advantage. Further to the east, Crimsonhaven, the hidden metropolis of the Jrigori, exists in an unwelcoming corner of the plane. It maintains a fragile veneer of civilization through the constant application of powerful magical illusions that project images of tranquil streams and verdant growth, masking the harsh reality of its surroundings. The combined extremities of the Neft's environment—the looming Obelisk, the corrosive mists of the south, the bleak and dangerous deserts of the west, and the semi-living marshes of the core—collectively offer no true sense of safety or permanence. This renders the Neft an endless labyrinth of shadows and potential nightmares, a realm where survival is a constant battle. Without unceasing magical intervention and robust defenses, the plane's aggressive, consuming nature would swiftly reclaim any settled areas, leaving behind only twisted remnants in its wake, a testament to its relentless and unforgiving power.

Life in the Neft revolves around a precarious food chain shaped by the plane’s lack of traditional natural resources and its oppressive environment. Most living creatures rely on magical or semimagical sustenance drawn from the plane’s ambient energies, such as the swirling pockets of darkness or the strange, ichor-like fluid found in the marshlands. The black “waters” in the west are rarely just water; their composition is a slurry of toxins and organic residue, supporting twisted and mutated forms of marine-like life. These creatures, in turn, serve as food sources for the local predators, perpetuating an intricate cycle.   Predators in the Neft vary in size and ferocity, from lesser beasts scavenging bone-littered plains to monstrosities lurking amid acidic fog or hidden quicksand. Some rely on stealth, camouflaging themselves in the shadows, while others harness Helix or Dark magic to confuse or ensnare their prey. Intelligent races such as the E’talin, Jarakians, and Jrigori adopt an active role in this ecosystem, hunting monstrous predators for sustenance or taming them as guard beasts, ensuring that no niche remains unoccupied for long.   Despite its grim appearance, cooperation exists in pockets of relative safety. Hardy species have adapted to share resources—certain mushrooms thrive in the cracks of old bones, providing nourishment for insects that in turn become prey for serpentine creatures. In the marshes, parasitic plants latch onto shallow creepers, extracting their essence while offering a protective canopy from the plane’s toxic rainfall. Over time, such interactions created a patchwork ecosystem where each species, no matter how small, contributes to the broader survival puzzle.   Sentient factions add another layer of complexity. Whether forging alliances or waging wars, they alter landscapes and shift local food webs. When the Jrigori cultivate patches of mutated crops in the gloom, they reduce a region’s biodiversity, whereas the E’talin’s nomadic lifestyle might redistribute seeds and pollens as they traverse the terrain. Consequently, the Neft’s ecosystem is in constant flux, shaped by a confluence of both natural adaptation and the purposeful interventions of its inhabitants.

Unlike typical worlds where seasons rotate through predictable weather and temperature changes, the Neft’s cycles are defined by the intensity of its crimson twilight and the fluctuating presence of ambient magic. Periods of heightened arcane energy, often called “Swell Cycles,” bring about bursts of activity: monstrous plants can bloom overnight, and predatory creatures may roam more boldly in search of prey. On the other hand, “Gloom Cycles” see the plane’s energy wane, with creatures retreating into dens or temporarily hibernating until the flow of magic surges again.   During Swell Cycles, entire swaths of the marshland might ignite with strange phosphorescent blooms, luring unsuspecting travelers into tangles of ravenous vines. In the Black Sand Sea, massive sandstorms may erupt, carrying the residue of necrotic energy that can poison or mutate unprotected beings. This is also the period when Diadems—ghostly apparitions in the sky—glow more brightly, their flickering intensities mirrored by the creatures below who sense the heightened resonance of energy.   During Gloom Cycles, the Neft almost appears subdued, and many beasts enter a lethargic or dormancy-like state. Hunting parties of E’talin or Jarakians often use this window to harvest resources with minimal resistance. But the respite is short-lived. Storms or monstrous raids can still arise if triggered by outside forces like malicious mages or wandering monstrosities. Thus, while these cycles create a semblance of rhythm, danger still lurks at every turn.   Occasionally, a catastrophic phenomenon known as a “Diadem Descent” disrupts both cycles. Historical accounts suggest that when the Diadems fully converge and descend, entire civilizations vanish overnight. Most species can’t predict exactly when or why these descents happen, but their arrival signals a forced reset of the Neft’s entire ecology. It is during these devastating events that the ecosystem is purged and must reestablish from whatever remnants survive the night.

The Neft experiences peculiar occurrences that both terrify and fascinate its denizens. One such feature is the corrosive mist blanketing the southern boundary. This mist, thick and pale green, rapidly dissolves flesh and equipment unless protected by arcane wards or the rare mineral known as Creatine. Many who dare cross the bone wall in search of secrets never return, their remains contributing to the unseen underlayers of the plane.   Another phenomenon is the appearance of “Shadow Cyclones” in the Black Sand Sea. These twisters form seemingly at random, whipping up spirals of obsidian sand. In addition to shredding anything caught in their path, Shadow Cyclones can twist local magic, causing bizarre effects like forced illusions or spontaneous curses. Some factions speculate these cyclones are triggered by old curses or unsettled spirits haunting the dunes.   Within the central bleeding marshland, eerie lights called “Marsh Phantoms” drift through the fog. These flickering blue-green orbs lure travelers off solid ground and deeper into the bog. In some tales, they’re said to be fragments of lost souls or leftover auras of those devoured by the plane’s hungering quagmires. Occasionally, a clever wizard or cunning E’talin might capture a Phantom, distilling its essence into potent magical reagents—if they can survive the process.   Finally, the northern Obelisk itself gives rise to “Obelisk Flares,” unpredictable surges of dark energy that ripple across the sky. The ground shudders during these flares, and in certain cases, entire sections of the plane might temporarily invert gravity or experience sudden illusions. Many see these events as tests of worth or omens of impending power shifts. Conquering the Obelisk has thus become a pursuit for those who crave dominion, though few survive to claim its rumored boons.

The Neft’s perpetual twilight and crimson sky create an illusion of unchanging climate, yet subtle, lingering shifts occur in temperature and humidity. The absence of a true sun or moon means that warmth and cold are dictated more by arcs of magical energy than by seasonal patterns. At times, a wave of spectral heat might emanate from the central marsh, giving the surrounding region a humid atmosphere thick with unearthly vapors.   In the north near the Obelisk, the air becomes stark and thin, reminiscent of high-altitude conditions. Gusts swirl around the towering structure, carrying dust and bone fragments that can slice through unprotected skin. Meanwhile, in the south, the corrosion-laden fog traps heat, creating a claustrophobic and stifling environment, especially along the infinite bone wall.   The Black Sand Sea is infamous for its sudden thermal extremes. During Gloom Cycles, it can drop to a chill so severe that the grains freeze, while at the height of Swell Cycles, superheated gusts turn the dunes into a scalding black tide. This unpredictability forces travelers to be constantly prepared, carrying protective gear or magical wards.   Overall, the climate in the Neft feels more like a collection of localized anomalies than a uniform weather system. Winds, storms, and temperature shifts might appear with little warning, shaped more by arcane interference or the quirks of the plane’s lifeblood than by meteorological patterns. This chaotic environment underlines the vulnerability of all who dwell here and cements the Neft’s reputation as a domain of ceaseless peril.

The Neft’s flora and fauna are a study in adaptation and survival, each creature and plant twisted by the plane’s uncanny energies. Gnarled bone-trees sprout at the edge of the southern wall, their pale bark calcified into spines. Sanguine creepers cling to these trees, absorbing any residual moisture from the air and turning it into a crimson sap that local predators find irresistible. Small, skittering creatures, part insect and part reptile, have evolved to harvest the sap, introducing them to a precarious place in the food chain.   Deeper in the bleeding marsh, gargantuan leech-like creatures lurk beneath the murky surface, waiting to latch onto anything that dares wade through. Winged insects capable of slicing through flesh with razor appendages buzz above, thriving on the decaying remains the marsh regularly provides. Some are attracted to the Marsh Phantoms, swirling around the lights until they dissolve into the bog’s hungry depths.   In the Black Sand Sea, burrowing serpents camouflage themselves in the obsidian grains, surfacing only to ambush unsuspecting travelers. Strange cacti-like plants with translucent needles and glowing seeds dot the dunes, storing arcane energy to release in violent bursts when threatened. Meanwhile, monstrous avians soar overhead, scanning for prey with eyes adapted to the plane’s constant dusk.   Among these dangerous creatures roam the intelligent residents—E’talin, Jarakians, Jrigori, and other stragglers—each with their own domesticated or partnered species. Some rear swift-limbed beasts as mounts, while others tame spined canines for security. Yet, no matter how deeply a race entrenches itself into Neft’s ecology, it’s clear that nature here holds the final say. One misstep, and even the strongest denizen becomes a footnote in the plane’s ever-shifting tapestry of life and death.

Traditional resources like timber or clean water are almost nonexistent in the Neft, forcing its inhabitants to turn to unconventional materials. One prized substance is Creatine, mined from the depths near the bone wall. Resistant to the plane’s corrosive fog, it’s highly valued for forging equipment and constructing shelters that won’t melt under the southern mist. Meanwhile, in the marshlands, certain spore clusters can be refined into potent alchemical concoctions, used for medicines or lethal poisons.   The black sand itself can be gathered and magically treated to create glass-like components or to craft armor plating with limited protective properties. Hunters may harvest the hardened shells or scales of large predators, turning them into trade goods or personal armor. Some wanderers even risk collecting the corrosive drizzle from the bone wall region, hoping to use it as a weapon of war or an ingredient in advanced spellcraft.   The Diadem apparitions overhead sometimes drop fragments of arcane residue when their patterns shift unexpectedly. These crystalline shards, known as “Diadem Sparks,” are fiercely contested, as they serve as high-grade catalysts for Helix magic. They can also be refined into powerful foci that enhance a caster’s ability to manipulate the plane’s energies.   Though not abundant in the conventional sense, these peculiar resources keep a thriving trade network alive among the plane’s inhabitants. Whether it’s forging the next unstoppable blade, brewing advanced potions, or fueling arcane experiments, these materials serve as the foundation of survival and competition in the Neft’s harrowing environment.

The origins of the Neft stretch into murky epochs, marked by cataclysmic cycles. Ancient runes carved into bone pillars hint at civilizations that once thrived here, only to be wiped out by Diadem Descents. Each downfall cleared the slate, leaving survivors to carve out new domains. Fragments of bone cities, toppled towers, and half-buried temples stand as silent relics of these repeated extinctions.   Over time, scattered tribes of E’talin, Jarakians (through the Joan’s influence), and Jrigori emerged, forging enclaves that rose and fell in a never-ending cycle of conflict and cooperation. Legends speak of monstrous alliances, joint ventures against unstoppable horrors, or betrayals that led to entire societies crumbling within the corrosive mists. In this shadow-laden land, new leaders have always stepped forward with fleeting authority.   Certain individuals—and even some monstrosities—became near-mythic figures, remembered for their roles in shaping the Neft’s evolution. Hu’tod, famed for forging an entire settlement through his mastery of Dark magic, or the obelisk’s many conquerors who lasted for one fleeting generation, only to be dethroned by another warlord or wizard. One constant remains: no power can truly halt the plane’s cyclical nature of devastation and rebirth.   Today, the Neft remains locked in a tense equilibrium. Many sense that a new Diadem Descent may be impending, each faction preparing for apocalypse or dominion—whichever scenario emerges first. Whether through the cunning of the Marshland Wizard, the brutality of the obelisk’s occupant, or the alliances of the plane’s lesser powers, history here is not a static record but a perpetual forging of legends amid relentless darkness.

Tourists to the Neft are a rare breed—either thrill-seekers craving unimaginable danger or researchers seeking to unlock hidden mysteries about Helix magic and the plane’s cyclical nature. Some mages, for instance, come to observe local anomalies like Shadow Cyclones, the swirling Marsh Phantoms, or the elusive Diadem Sparks. Alchemists might risk the bone wall for a chance to gather corrosive droplets or harvest exotic fungal specimens, hoping to craft potent concoctions unseen elsewhere.   Those brave (or foolhardy) enough to enter typically stay within relatively safe enclaves run by E’talin or Jarakians. Simple shelters may provide a modicum of protection from roving beasts and harsh conditions. Crimsonhaven offers a more civilized, if oppressive, option for visitors with the right connections, though there’s an unspoken expectation of tribute paid to Alucard Bloodhaven and his intermediaries.   Guides or mercenary escorts can be hired for forays into deeper terrain, though their fees are astronomical. Most travelers come bearing relics or knowledge to barter, as local currency is worthless without corresponding favors or alliances. Surviving a single expedition into the Neft’s heart can establish someone’s reputation across other planes, attracting would-be adventurers chasing after legends of unstoppable hunts or unclaimed arcane treasures.   For the few who come purely to witness the Neft’s grim beauty, they find a stark grandeur unlike anywhere else—blood-slick marshes shimmering under an endless red horizon, wind-swept black dunes carved by monstrous serpents, and the towering obelisk acting as an ominous sentinel in the distance. Yet every glimpse of wonder is tempered by the constant threat of annihilation. In the Neft, even tourism is a precarious gamble.