I once had the unforgettable, only ever want to do it once, experience of crossing the Ragerains Waveplains in the realm of Beotremar. It is a vast flood plain formed from overflow of the Riverath, a twice-yearly event when the rains became so significant, and consistent, the ground is simply unable to absorb the sheer amount of water. That happens on the very first day and still it rains as if buckets as large as the sky are being poured on the land below for two whole months. On top of that, the storms were unlike any I had seen in any realm, including Stratos, and my journey with Captain Vexyu on Stormscreamer. For 21 months out of the year Beotremar is a dry vast expanse of cracked mud plains, massive sand flats, and small sparse Thornsquat trees. Home realm to the Barrenmire Tribes, these culture rich but tough tribes thrive and, in fact, utterly depend on trade with each other. Until I arrived, they were not even aware of other realms and, as far as first contact goes, well that is an entirely different story.
Despite first impressions I explained my need to leave the realm and move on to the next. The truth is I wanted to leave a place that had 21 months of scorching sun and twice-yearly nonstop rains, for two month stretches, to the point of a planetwide flooding. No thanks. But I also wanted to leave for other reasons. Almost all the food here was indigestible for a human. I arrived a week before the rains and all I could eat after my rations were gone was a bark like jerky made from dried Thornsquat Fruit. This unappealing jerky tasted similarly to Hearth Heart’s kelp, with delicate hints of silt and with an aftertaste the way river mud smells. Its not great. I wanted to leave after four days of this local delicacy, despite the generosity shown by my hosts in sharing their time, stories, and resources. I had spent quite a lot of time talking but also working diligently. If you want something in Beotremar you work for it. I spliced thorn cord, tied and mended nets, and scraped the bark and thorns off of Thornsquat logs. We worked mostly overnight by torch light, the days were deadly hot and were best for sleeping in the pod like carved caves that the Barrenmire called home. The cooler nights were for working as survival depended on it. In fact, their entire life was surviving, planning, and prepping for the rains. You never stop in Beotremar because to do so is to invite your own end. Even the trees in the realm grew with a staggering 97% of their bulk as roots, all to store water from the rains for the dry season and to have any chance of fruiting before the next rain. This was a harsh, but fascinating planet that I could not wait to leave. I did not, however, know how.
Then, I heard a story…
Ok! Hello! Farewell!