Ravenbourne. A lagre, dry, and ruthless dessert, where only the most wicked of creatures could exist. 300 years ago, cities and comunities started to form there, filled by hunters who wanted to hunt only the deadliest, and most profitable pray. A hunters dream was always the same; to kill a phoenix. The large creature looked like a dead bird, with fire licking it's razor sharp wings. It's blood could provide rapid healing and higtened reflexes, while the bones could make the sharpest, lightest on most durable weapons.   Of cource, this golden age of wealth and prosperity could only last so long, and when the last pheonix was slain, and the last drop of blood lost, Ravenbourne crumbled into a pit filled with violence and gangs, where only the strongest would survive.