The plains of Yarakat stretch from the outpost of Altkursk in the east to the bustling ports of Borchi in the west. Between these two beacons, however, is four million square miles of nothing. With shallow soil, blistering summers, and freezing winters, Yarakat is devoid of any industry, save the deer herds of the nomadic Akat people and wildcat mining operations.

However, the value of a large, empty space soon became apparent to the nobles of Resnitsy. In the years after the conquest of Yarakat, the skies of the eastern expanse crackled and split with the experiments of fledgling mages. Impossible beasts stalked the land, the legacy of arcane dealings. Some claim that the fabric of reality itself has grown weak in some areas of the plains.

The Western reaches of Yarakat serve a different purpose. With a thousand miles to the closest settlement, the noble families realized that Western Yarakat was the perfect place to send all problems that needed to be forgotten. Revolutionaries. Embarrassing family members. Hardened criminals. Street musicians. All safely contained a thousand miles from nowhere. In a break from the poetic naming of Resnitsy, the camps are simply numbered, from Camp 01 to Camp 37. To call them camps is more a misnomer; the prisons are little more than enclosures, ranging in size from dozens to thousands of square miles. Most critically, each camp is entirely enveloped in a magic-negating field to prevent any former mages from effecting an escape.

In the camps, all are equal. Food and supplies are dropped at regular intervals, with prisoners expected to fend for themselves. From the fractious and ever-changing alliances of Camp 14 to the quasi-mystical dictatorship of Camp 02, the situation of a given prison can range wildly. But so long as the prisoners stay in, the lords of Resnitsy could care less.


The Land of Magics alexz