Rolling sands of pure white. The many salt deposits in the ground render the landscape colorless. Causing a fine white dust to be kicked up by the wind, sandstorms of white filling the sky. Even the stones here are made of salt. Little survives here. Except for the scurvy rats and, the Moga. An old and peacefully stoic race, hunchbacked and wooly, large with twisting horns. The...Read more