The Gilneans always make me think of fairy stories. Deep dark woods, full moons glistening over head, fat candles burning down low and red roses dripping petals the colour of blood.
For a period when I was quite small, we lived close to the German/Netherlands border and used to visit Efteling regularly. Naturally as a child I loved it and whilst I was too young to appreciate the roller coasters, I adored the Fairy Tale Forest. I know the Worgen are meant to be British and whilst the fog might be, the architecture reminds me so much of wandering around that theme park visiting all my favourite fairy stories.
Here on the east coast of Scotland, it’s often foggy. The Haar comes rolling off the sea, striding in-land like some vast Vykrul woman, her white cloak wrapping the world in cotton wool. You can taste sea salt on the air as she passes, clouding your vision and altering your senses.
The Forsaken have the next best set of buildings, all haphazard edges and balconies. I can’t help wondering what sort of monster arose from it’s slab just after this picture was taken.
Forests too change the way we see things, blocking out the bigger picture.
A Dandelion head, it’s lacy strands dancing in the light like a spider’s web.
Finally, who doesn’t love marshes? The colours caught reflected in the viscous water and the strange trees which flower there make it a thing of beauty.