The human-inhabited planet of Lal Hadaf used to lush tropical paradise that at its peak was home to some 100 million denizens. However, the fate of the planet would forever change when its administration decided, despite the vocal protests of experts, to introduce some 100 mastikhors to the ecosystem as a form of biological control of agricultural pests. With the omnivorous mastikhors lacking any natural predators or diseases in the new biome and finding its climate extremely ideal, they began to multiply rapidly. Pretty soon, vast swarms began to bloom, eating everything in their wake and growing all the more numerous.
The administration tried many desperate measures to control the mastikhor numbers, even nuclear bombardment, but nothing could stem the ruthless tide of this ravenous flood. Eventually, a mass evacuation was called, but it was done haphazardly, and many of the denizens were left stranded with the planet’s quarantine. Most of those left behind perished, but some sought refuge in the planet’s cooler highland plateaus and mountain valleys– the cold being intolerable to the mastikhor species.
Once a green planet is a now desert wasteland, with vast stretches of it solely being the domain of the mastikhor, which, through their sheer numbers, give the planet a red hue. Amidst its eroded and stripped surface lie the ruins of once splendorous human cities and monuments. The lands are devoid of most life, having been long consumed by the swarm. The colossal desert worm, another introduced species, is the only other prevalent species here and rides the depths of the planet’s shifting sands.
Yet, in contrast to the grounds below, the high-altitude ‘islands’ still manage to support thriving ecosystems, and some even complex human societies. Having been isolated for a thousand years or so years, each island has cultivated its own distinct cultures and ecosystems. Most human cultures of this planet are rather primitive, having forgotten much of their original technological heritage and knowledge of the world that originally was, with the ancient past now relegated to myths and legends. Near the poles, however, a kind of industrial society is emerging and, with the invention of such things like airships, slowly breaking away from their isolation.
Geography
The geography of Lal Hadaf is split into two major dominions – the Black Sea and the Red Sea.
The Black Sea is a deep, inland sea named not for metaphor but for its very real biochemical corruption. Its waters are stained dark from centuries of organic runoff, decomposing biomass, and anaerobic algal blooms.
Salty, acidic, and reeking of death, it’s said the sea now “breathes” – venting black gas during certain lunar phases. Little life survives beneath, but of the ones that do, most are blind, bioluminescent, and better left undisturbed. The surrounding coastlines, long stripped bare by the mastikhor, are jagged and lifeless.
The Red Sea, in contrast, is a dried-up wasteland claimed by swarms of mastikhor. Its name comes from the very soil, oxidized and trampled under trillions of mastikhor bodies. Once home to rivers, rainforests, and cities, now it’s a land of buried ruins, rot, and shifting dunes.
Its western boundary is dominated by the Ridge Mountains, a towering spine that catches the last of the rain and provides a refuge to isolated highland settlements and scattered nomadic tribes. West of it lies Crater Lake, a volcanic caldera filled with cobalt-blue water and ringed by cliff settlements. Further south, the Zaati Tableland sprawls – dry but liveable, home to horse clans, terrace farms, and stubborn old traditions.
The east is dominated by the Koh Mountains, sharper and more hostile than the Ridge. In their shadow lies the Namkeen Plateau – a high, windblasted expanse dotted with stone-built hill towns and the last vestiges of structured states. Further to the north, the land breaks apart into cold-island masses: Asmati and Yakeen, mist-veiled, forested, and largely autonomous.
At the very northern fringe sits Phaatgahi, a bleak industrial settlement clinging to the frostline. It is here that industry, crude science, and memory are clawing their way back.
Only the lighter-orange zones remain free of mastikhor. Cold, elevated, and isolated – they are the last safe havens.
This entry was created by community founder, Artnoob100.