Grasslands

The Grasslands are barren wastelands covered in ash and the grey powder of ruined dead gods who used to occupy them at a point in time. It is only a husk of what it previously ought to be, once a bouncy, green life-bringer now turned toxic and strange beyond anyone's comprehension. The famously lively plants and grass have been turned into stone, bones, creeks, sandstone and death.
The trees have been expired since eternities ago, their age long forgotten and features long gone. In the place of the trees grew crosses of immense proportions, erect in pure sorrow and fueled by anger at the dead gods for abandoning them and their well-being.
The soil itself has transcended immortality and conciousness, thought to be currently occupying the second Realm. Once nutritious and useful in ways greater than one, now has morphed into rotten, putrid rock-like silver teeth rooting themselves infinitely deep into the core of the Grasslands.
There used to be hills randomly throwns about the countryside, covered in great pines and streaks of life. These are the only known features to this day. The hills have now been replaced by large totems of ancient strange religions of animism and interdimensional shamanism that control the strings of the bear puppet that dances them to existence every time the moon god sears the lands ablaze. Forever trapped in an eternal struggle cycle of existance, nonexistance and misery in the satans confines.
Inhabitants of the Grasslands were not aware of their demise, the majority of the population were immigrants or visitors, taking a long hard look at the sheer infamous beauty associated with the planes. Sadly, every person present during the incident suffered the same unfortunate consequences of terrible luck and coincidence.
The Grasslands resided in a BAD cuhabsoverse, specifically the CV 50000, this fact alone doomed the existence of every ketabsoverse inside of it and every absoverse as well. Inside of the CV 50000 in the perfect middle existed a ketabsoverse known as 401 N 88, in the center of this ketabsoverse lived an absoverse, a special absoverse that was unlike any other, containing inside of it the Grasslands. To the Grasslands many people went and lived. Many ordinary people and as well as many gods. The place was treasured for its mystic natural beauty, for the reader shall know, it was not concieved artificially, but through clashing wars and battles between verses and their laws governing them. This process is still unknown to this day, but why observing it through special dimensions, scientists hope to answer that question in the future.
The special gods, travelers, ascended kind, guided individuals and common folk would observe the builds that the traditional tribes constructed. Great towers of passion and determination, to discover existence and the everything that is the Realm, which in reality is nothing compared to space and logic and truth. The primitive beings built wells, villages, societies, ships, schools, temples to pray to the mystery gods and basements to store food and goods for markets. All of this came crashing down when Gaobun was born.
Gaoburn was an unjudgeable book cover, he was working on an unstable plan to take over the cloudverse and kill the cloud god. The naive unhindged ideology of his being was released once Gaobun graduated International Divinity College in the central absoverse. Gaoburn started releasing corrupted particle beams into the CV 50000 verse immediatelly, decomposing the entire ketabsoverse and forcing immediate relocation of every being.
These fumes turrned the Grasslands into an inescapable chamber of concentrated limestone, blaze, powder, panic and depression in a matter of minutes. Hidden monsters deep within unearthed themselves reaked havoc on everything physical and metaphysical. As these events took place, innocent bystanders were left to do nothing but to observe and watch as their homes and livelihoods were torn and shred to pieces upon pieces upon pieces.
Exactly a year after this event took place, an annonymous witness wrote a poem to commemorate and display the horror which went down. It is meant to be read from left to right.
As the thorns grew and trees fell,the atmosphere was awry,the twinkling twilight brought us hell,a simpleton would know we'd die. 	
The howls wrapped the chains sharply,souls soaked blood dripping from hell,as torture fought with misery,God's clock fell down the endless well.
A footless rabbit roams lost,on the green hills of forests,where the universe went at costticking, ticking, plague of unrest. 	A rootless statue spikes out,larger than the moon, bleeding,its mouth gaping, it spoke aloud:"Your god is dead, in hell burning."
"So understand me, peasants,""for your world will be brimstone,""a life forever unpleasant,""the ground turned into sharp flintstones" 	"The mountains transformed to moss,""of terrible brown-green shade,""with rotten flesh shooting across,""dousing calm beauty with hate."
"And upon the dead of nights,""hellish spawns shall come to life,""grasping unbelievable heights,""leaving myriads in constant strife."	Upon speaking its message,the devil's statue vanished,leaving behind a great passage,from whence boars left earth demolished.
This is much more metaphorical and simplified version of the events, thus, it may not be as accurate as one would expect.Category:Leftunknown pages
Category:Killed Leftunknown
Category:Realm
Category:Abandoned
Category:Green