The Fade

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The outposts of Eskara are lonely, desolate places. Beyond the network of chthonomantically carved roadways and rivers, the world becomes hostile. Here, there are caverns that can only be reached by clambering up ancient gas vents or negotiating treacherous dust fields and fungal marshes that can swallow the unwary. Beasts roam, enormous insectile things with jaws strong enough to shear off a leg. Civilisation ends.

The people that choose to come here are the damaged, the exiled, the explorers. Those who don't mesh well with society, or who seek to live on its boundaries. They pay little attention to strangers, and they tend to keep to themselves. Most are occupied with the tough business of eking out a livelihood. That suits me well enough.

I've been all over the edges of Eskara this past season. I've stayed in outposts ranging from shanties to little towns. I've been put up in farms and slept in sheds with animals. I've used a dozen names and disguises.

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