Istria is a land ravaged by the dark ages before Aurelia's enlightenment and the Gods' blessings. Wars raged across the old Istrian Empire, and living curses still roam the countryside from hundreds of years ago. Collectively, the curses are known as the Stillness -- anything that remains in one place for too long is eventually caught and corrupted by this prowling danger.
So why is anyone still living in Istria? The answer, as with anywhere else, is money. Powerful artifacts from the Dark Ages dot the landscape, untouched by mortal hands for centuries. The Stillness also leaves treasure in its wake -- areas with high curse density cause magic to crystalize into a dense power source, highly sought after by country and org alike.
Those brave enough to call Istria home live in giant, mobile caravan-cities called striders. The strider caravans move from place to place, pulling resources from ruins and stocking up on food and water as quickly as possible before alighting towards their next destination.
Due to the Stillness, the Istrians are famous for their seemingly inherent wanderlust -- Istrians are usually the first to break new ground in the Infinite Horizon, an Istrian was the first to circumnavigate the globe, the Istrian mobile spaceport is currently the closest any Færrin group has come to leaving the atmosphere, and so on.
Debrief of Anari Thesrim, Expedition Team B:
We were careful. We kept moving, never lingering too long in one place. But Haren... Haren tripped on a collapsed column. He fell hard, his lantern shattering on the stones, the oil spreading in a slow, glimmering pool. I yelled for him to get up. "You can't stay there, Haren! Move!" But it was already there, creeping along the edges of the spilled oil, curling around his boots like smoke. He looked at me, wide-eyed and terrified, as if he could feel it slithering into him.
I should've kept running. I should've left him. But I stayed just long enough to see it take him. His skin went gray first, cracks forming like dry riverbeds. Purple crystals burst from his joints, and his legs bent at wrong angles. I saw his face contort into a mask of agony, then solidify. When it was done, he looked like a statue, one among many in this cursed place.
I fled after that, stumbling blindly through the ruins until I found the others. I couldn't look back. I couldn't bear to see if it was still following.
The others say we should abandon the ruins, leave Haren and whatever treasure lies here behind. They're right, of course. But even now, in the pit of my heart, I know I'll come back.
Is it too late for me, too? For all of us? *