Felltree Marsh But the prince of any failing empire knows

badlands, badlands, badlands —

that whispered word, those piercing eyes, several mouths twisted in arrogant sneers ...

a soured quirk of his mouth is given, a haunting metallic taste in his mouth. he isn't fond of the name for it dredges up ground zero into his mind, the world 'round him too easily shifting into that memory.

i am called badlands. not the greatest name; it holds connotations that he can only imagine. badlands. heavily eroded, uncultivable land with little vegetation, unwelcoming, dangerous, derelict...

he would hope a mother wouldn't name her son something so terrible but the wardog cannot draw memories of his own mother and so, is left to assume that they indeed could.

which would explain why you're out here in this marsh? badlands guesses, unable to fathom any other logical reason someone would willingly walk this marsh.