Travelers of the Burren deserts have begun to buzz about a strange new threat hanging in the air. There have been reports of ships going missing traversing the rolling sea of dunes. Amidst sandstorms and pirate raiders, it's not uncommon to hear such stories, of course, but there is a new common thread hanging between them. A location. A large number of these vanished ships have been reportedly been travelling through a very precise area of the map when they suddenly are never heard from again. Rumours have been quickly spreading through every major city. Pirate raiders, massive raging skywhales, or even reports of ghosts and demons have the imagination of the people. This area, this seeming void, that sucks in the unwitting and leaves no trace has become a legend of sorts, murmured among the populace.
"I've heard the last thing you see before you go is a white mask, with the face of a fox painted on it."
"Yeah, well I heard there's a ship... a very large ship, not like any you've seen, built from the dead hulls of it's prey."
"The Voidstation! You've seen it?"
"No, of course I haven't seen it, are you daft? The Voidstation is a legend, a ghost. Nothing else. If it were real someone would have brought it down by now. Those people are just ill-prepared desert travelers. Sandstorm got 'em, that's my bet."
"You don't believe in the Void? What about the white mask? The woman in the white mask?"
"All poppycock and idiot legendry. Best to keep your head about you while you're up in those clouds, you hear me?"
Sitting at a bar in some small Cantina, a blond woman sits listening to the stories she's stirred up with a placate smile. Sipping on the spoils of piracy she sighs happily as she fingers the scar on her cheek. However close she came to death, legends like these can never die.
