Sezlan Plains

If at the end of the world Dreaver wept in the Lightland and howled in the Darkland, it bled in Sezlan. The vast, undulating plains of sweet grasses and meadow flowers were ripped asunder by monstrous convulsions far below the soil, and as the ground gave way to a gaping wound seething torrents of steam mixed with fat globes of redness somersaulted to the sky. Now the grass has regrown and Sezlan is as it was, save for the jagged fissure that splits it in two. Occasionally it belches steam, and far below a demonic rumbling can be heard.

Horses of all alliances can come here to converse.