In the vast Sun-Ocean lies spots of perfect green. The Ankorillian Islands. The 'Jewels of the Blue'.
The natives there are strange and wild looking.
Here is the only existing work on how they live, their customs, beliefs and rituals.

Deep in the Ankorillian jungles grows the Corpse Flower. A dreaded plant that can entangle and poison you silently.
Hours later your companions notice your absence,
turn and search for you.
As they backtrack they unknowingly pass your last resting place.
A rather smelly, orange plant.

These are not ordinary gems, these are Thrar Stones. They are rocks that have been caught in the trunks of growing trees. Over thousands of years they are forged from stone to gem.

The landscape is a product of nature's own processes and humanoid activities troughout centuries or millenia.
How can we capture this in our stories, and deliver vivid and semi authentic descriptions?

"I hear that he walks the North these days, strides amongst the Silver Firs of those harsh lands. His followers struggling behind in the frost mist. New ones joining the lines everyday the, drawn to him by some mysterious force."

They march, march forever. Eerie chanting fill the air. Death Cometh.