Desolate, Withered and broken.
Anyone who have found themselves unlucky enough to end up on Horai, have always sought to escape as quickly as possible. A island of nothing but desert, the land is as barren as the compassion of the ruler.
Ras Ozymandias, the mighty Sorcerer-King, have ruled here for decades.
Within his mighty palace, the tyrannic lord have made a realm of his own, built on the backs of slaves and servants, with himself at the apex.
Constructions of gargantuan proportions are being erected upon his iron will alone, every soul on the island bending their eyes and knees in awe of his power.
Know, oh foolish traveler, that no life thrive on Horai. Not a bird sing, nor does the anything crawl in the blistering sands.
Not without the blessings of the King-of-Kings, the magnificient Ras Ozymandias.
The water itself is a subject to Ras, and only those who are his subjects can drink their fill.
Truly, to dare to displease such a sorcerer is to invite calamity and oblivion to your house!