"A tour of the Yjonra Outskirts" — (original fiction & art)

Walk this way, pray, do — take a simple glance at the ripped mesh that lines the haunted arboretum. You see the stern fence poles in rank and file that guard the Way In. Indeed, we have more than enough interlopers to worry about already. Yod forbid more wander in — from Yod knows whence they come.

Brutal twists of ir'hon metal line the top of the meandering barrier. Though I have invited you to see the sights, I would request you not stare upon the fence for too long — nor too closely — especially within the rings. The effects can be... disorienting. Come along, look instead upon the weird moon-mosses that grow upon these monstrous rock-tree roots. Indeed, they are bioluminescent — you do not hallucinate.

Here in the garden (or what remains intact of it) we have metagenetic self-sufficient eyeorb levitators. No, no, they are quite harmless. At least, they have killed no one yet. Hah. You see, they seem to be building some kind of nanocivilization in the atomic interstices of the trees. I am told we are building up quite a backlog of magical biologists that desire entry to Yjonra Outskirts just to gaze upon what you behold before you. Perhaps we will auction off the opportunity to the highest bidder. Ha ha ha! I am only joking, of course. We monks do not lust after empty digits upon emptier screens.

Huh...you claim to see nothing? What blasphemy! Though perhaps... you have not developed the Sixth Sight. I had thought all Hyas mages... though never mind. I do not wish to insult an honored guest. Come along this way — we will visit the Vyvmsq Ice-Rubber Trees.

These saplings are made of a substance that baffles all explanation, grown from crystallized ice-acorns from the legendary reality rift of the nocked hills of Vyvmsq. The seeds have an absurdly low germination rate in the ordinary parts of Vek. Our late head horticulturist Ynvic Dord, however, was truly a miracle worker with plants of any kind (May he Rest Well in Yod’s Bliss) and so we have this tiny grove. Sadly, I do not believe it will survive much longer without Ynvic's guiding hand. Take a mental photograph; savor the rare sight.

You cannot interact with the wood or sap of these trees and fail to cause the properties of their substance to alter. At times, it is smooth and hard as diamond; at others, sharp and brittle. Still again, it will be tough and flexible, and then suddenly, a completely malleable and almost infinitely stretchy goo that, however, never breaks (unless subjected to certain kinds of advanced magical energies.) But come, I can see that my monologue bores you. No, no, do not deny it. We monks become very attuned to people's inner thoughts and emotions through our strict discipline. But do not worry, we have sworn never to judge the filthy thoughts we hear. Ha ha ha ha ha! I am sorry, friend. I laugh not at you but at the human condition.

How came this outskirts to be haunted, since we monks are so attuned and prescient? While we discuss, we may stroll beside the subterranean irrigation pipe where the birdfungi grow. Aren't they lovely? Now, let me be clear, I never claimed foreknowledge of any sort. Moreover, we monks share the same vast ignorance common to all sentient creatures. That being said, we have sensed with unease a bizarre influx of energies onto our planet. We do not believe it is a local sort of infection, for intuition as well as reason indicates a more global phenomenon. Moreover, it appears to be a recent phenomenon, only documented after the passing of our dear Ynvic. No, we are not superstitious, and causality as a concept is certainly spurious. It is impossible for us to not notice the coincidence, however.

And why writhes and blinks that tree-trunk so? Of course, my friend, for the same unknown reason we have most recently mused upon! Notice how the barken edges bulge with almost fleshy protuberances? It is almost as if there are, imprisoned within the substance of the plants in this garden, weird progenitors to all life's origin. And — yes — you are perceptive — there is a metallic-looking infection towards the top, as if the tree itself is becoming spontaneously technological. I am told this is common among the flora of the Vyvmsq region, though to occur here is highly unusual. Of course, we are getting used to the unusual. Ha ha. Forgive my poor pun.

But enough — I can tell you are becoming fatigued. Do let us leave this curious outskirts behind us... to whatever fate Yod dictates. Hello? But what exactly are you doing? Did I not instruct you to refrain from staring within the fence rings? Oh, Yod. I shall have to sprint back to the outpost to summon the Head Medic. I cannot stand another guest to become a driveling lunatic under my guidance! Oh, look how rolls the head hypnotically. What sees he? What infernal doorways live within this barrier-ring? Thank Vek I am no Hyas mage.

But wait. This is preposterous — all Hyas mages are immune. Perhaps… Oh, Yod! I have forgotten that non-monks do not take the Oath of Truth as we do. Oh, Yod… that screaming, the haunted expression, the inhuman writhing… it is almost more than I can bear. Yod Blast the one responsible for this monstrosity being released upon Vek! (Though, I must confess, I am slightly curious what beings live within this cursed place. Scribe, strike that from the record!)