The Center Point was the anchor around which the
continents floated. It was a craggy place of charcoal-colored stone run through
with veins of iron ore. If it weren’t for the menagerie of demons who called
the place home, it would’ve provided the gnomes an inexhaustible supply of ore
they could’ve used in the production of their mechanical devices, or traded to
the other races of Void.
The few expeditions that had tried to establish a
beachhead on Center Point had universally met with disaster. The constant
assaults by demons, lack of clean water or nutritious vegetation made
habitation untenable.
No comments:
Post a Comment