Nestled in the shadows of towering mountains and beneath the ever-watching gaze of a pale, fractured moon lies Bonelands—a forgotten realm steeped in mystery, sorrow, and the brittle echoes of ancient bones. Once a vibrant kingdom teeming with life, Bonelands now stretches as a desolate scar upon the earth, where time and nature have given way to silence, and where the wind whispers secrets through skeletal forests. This is a place where history is not written in ink, but carved into the bones of the dead.
In this article, we will explore the mythos and landscape of Bonelands, its origins, the people who once called it home, and the chilling legends that refuse to die.
The Birth of Bonelands: From Fertility to Forsakenness
Centuries ago, the land that is now known as Bonelands was called Therian Vale, a fertile valley flanked by crystalline rivers and emerald woodlands. It was home to a thriving civilization known as the Thariennes, a people of deep spiritual connection to the natural world. They believed the land itself was alive, imbued with a spirit called Vareth, whom they revered through seasonal rites and offerings.
For generations, their harmony with nature yielded abundant crops and peaceful cohabitation with mystical beasts. However, this balance began to fray when the Thariennes unearthed a vast network of underground ossuaries beneath their temples. Believing they had discovered the resting place of the Ancients—divine beings from a forgotten age—the Thariennes began to worship these remains. But with this reverence came an obsession. They began to exhume more bones, stacking them into effigies and altars, believing that more veneration would awaken the divine.
Instead, it awakened something else.
It is said the earth itself began to wither. Crops failed. The rivers turned brackish. And those who lingered too long in the ossuaries emerged changed—haunted, emaciated, speaking in tongues that chilled the soul. Within a decade, Therian Vale had become unrecognizable: the trees leafless and twisted, the skies forever veiled in ashen clouds. It became the Bonelands.
The Terrain of the Dead: A Landscape Beyond Life
The Bonelands are not merely barren—they are unholy. The terrain is composed of cracked earth, brittle salt flats, and a strange white dust that clings to everything. This dust, some claim, is pulverized bone, carried by the wind like a curse. The forests—what remain of them—are petrified, their bark gray and lifeless, branches clawing at the sky as though in eternal agony.
Scattered across the landscape are massive ossuary monuments, many the size of small fortresses, crafted entirely from bones: ribs forming archways, femurs stacked into towers, and skulls embedded into walls as grotesque mosaics. These were once places of rituals, but now serve as lairs for scavengers and darker things.
There is also The Cradle, a vast depression in the center of Bonelands where it is said the first and oldest bone effigy was erected. No vegetation grows there, and compasses spin uselessly when brought near. Travelers who spend the night in the Cradle often wake to find strange symbols carved into their skin, or worse—do not wake at all.
Despite the deadly nature of the landscape, some persist in entering the Bonelands. Treasure hunters, bone cultists, and scholars of the arcane all seek relics within its forgotten temples. Few return, and those who do often leave a part of themselves behind.
The Lost Inhabitants: Echoes of the Thariennes
What became of the Thariennes is a question that still plagues historians and folklorists alike. Some believe they were wiped out by famine and disease. Others whisper that they transcended mortality, fusing their essence with the bones they worshipped. There are even tales of The Ossan, a race of bone-walkers believed to be the remnants of the Thariennes—half-skeletal beings who emerge at dusk, glowing faintly from within, endlessly rebuilding the crumbling bone structures and chanting in dead languages.
Survivors from surrounding regions report encounters with ghostly figures cloaked in bone and sinew, their faces hidden by elaborate masks. These entities offer no words, only gestures—beckoning the curious deeper into the wastelands, never to be seen again.
The most disturbing of these stories speaks of The Bone Choir, a spectral chorus said to sing each solstice night from the depths of the Cradle. The song is described as sorrowful and eerily beautiful, capable of driving listeners mad with grief or longing. Those who hear it often abandon their lives, drawn toward the Bonelands like moths to a flame.
The idea that the Thariennes still exist—whether as spirits, revenants, or something worse—adds an unsettling dimension to the already dreadful aura of the Bonelands.
Legends, Curses, and Forbidden Knowledge
Bonelands is a magnet for legend. Its eerie atmosphere, combined with its tragic history, has given rise to countless stories—many designed to warn, some to entice.
One such tale tells of The Bone Key, a relic said to unlock a hidden ossuary beneath the Cradle that contains a library of bone tablets etched with the secrets of life, death, and time itself. Another speaks of The Pale Saint, a skeletal guardian who appears to lost travelers and offers them one of two choices: eternal rest or eternal service.
Scholars who’ve studied the runes and patterns found in the bone arrangements claim they represent a language, possibly older than any known script. Some even posit that the entire Bonelands is a massive, slow-forming spell—a necro-script written across the landscape, waiting for completion. If true, the implications are chilling.
Yet, for all the horror, there are those drawn to Bonelands not by fear, but fascination. Occultists, necromancers, and seekers of the forbidden continue to brave its dangers. They believe Bonelands is not a place of death, but of transformation—an ancient gateway to knowledge and power beyond comprehension.
And perhaps they are right.
Whether Bonelands is a tragic warning, a natural disaster, or a consequence of divine curiosity, one thing remains clear: it is not a place meant for the living. Yet it endures, drawing wanderers into its skeletal embrace, whispering to them through bone and wind.
Let me know if you’d like a map of Bonelands, a character concept, or a timeline of events to expand this world further.
