The Blighted Isle is a large island off the coast of Ulthuan's northern coast. This island suffered most during the Wars of the Sundering. Here cataclysmic forces were unleashed that drowned the land and shattered the northern pan of the continent. The remaining islands are tortured and twisted places, blasted by fire and death, and near lifeless. Such life that does survive is warped from contact with the pools and flows of dark magical energy left over from the war. Monsters, stirred from the lightless ocean depths by the sinking of the lands, sometimes come ashore here in search of prey.[1a]
This realm once belonged to the Elves of Naggaroth and they still seek to reclaim it. The Elves of Ulthuan maintain fortresses and watchtowers in these desolate lands to warn them against invaders. Year by year war is waged here. Sometimes the Isles are in possession of the Dark Elves, sometimes in possession of the warriors of the Phoenix King. This is truly a sundered land.[1a]
Rising over the misty wilderness of the Blighted Isle, largest of the surviving islands, is the great shrine of Khaine, the War God of the Elves. This shrine has long been abandoned but it is still a place of great power and of deep significance to both the High Elves and the Dark Elves. Both worship Khaine as a god and both claim his shrine. The Shrine itself is a massive black altar within which is embedded a weapon of immeasurable power. Everyone who looks upon it sees a different weapon. Some see a spear, others a sword, others an axe. All agree that the weapon drips blood, and those who have dared look upon it can feel it singing to their soul, filling them with promises of violence and destruction.[1a] The altar sits on a vast plain over which many battles have been fought. The bodies of the dead are left unburied, so the plain is covered in the bones and skulls of elf and beast. Spirits of the dead drift over the battlefield locked in eternal battle. The mist itself is red-tinted and smells of blood. On certain nights all the ghosts do battle and the distant echoes of their screams and war-cries are borne on the wind. The boundaries of the sacred battlefield are marked by a thousand great carved menhirs. These represent the various aspects of Khaine. Some have been toppled, and some are so eroded that they appear to be nothing more than wind-scoured boulders. Others carry the image of a swooping hawk, the blood-maddened bull, the scorpion stinging, the wounded warrior. All these obelisks are dark and sinister, their hulking forms glowering over a carpet of white bones under leaden skies.
In the cold grey northern seas, the storm-lashed island's desolate shale is littered with the bones of countless thousands, their blood soaking into its gritty black sand.[2a]