The flats, the last light glimmering out of the dark of chaos. A pure white plane stretching almost endlessly to the cliffs. The cliffs, natural protection from all that is hated waiting on the other side. Water, beating against the cliffs just on the other side, picking at the walls and stealing without asking for which it has no right. Dry, arid, any amount of humidity is too much. Desert air still has the rank smell of water stuck on it for any being calling salt it's home. Unfortunately the stench is never far away and the sound of that endless waves can be heard deep into the flats.
Omens: Cracked earth – speed and readiness; Dust – fear; Pillar of salt – death; Salt water – deception.
Powers/practices: Dehydration, speed.
Creatures: Millipedes; Cliff spiders; Salt golems The Hand of Sod. A white mixing sized bowl. Heavy salt stone with a jagged lip that has obviously been used as a digging tool weighing somewhere around 40 pounds. The bowl slowly drains moisture from anything it sits on, completely draining any amount of moisture from any item placed in the bowl reducing it to dust.