Zorvath, a realm of unrelenting gusts and gales of discontent. Where the skies weep with the stench of last week's burnt sacrifices, and the ground shudders beneath the feet of those who dare to tread.
A place where the native Zorvathians live in a state of constant disarray, ever-vigilant for the next great tempest to sweep their lives asunder.
But fear not, traveler, for there's still beauty to be found in this forsaken land. The winds may howl with a malevolent glee, but the sun still shines bright, casting an otherworldly glow upon the twisted, nightmarish spires that pierce the skies.