Pengung is a very sad region. This had once been a prosperous trading area with many villages and towns bustling with life. Now it is ruins. The areas surrounding it are scorched trees or polluted water and the towns themselves are shells of what once was.
However, it is quite full of life once again, though not the bustling vibrance that it once knew. Those people maimed by the war, forced from their homes, running from the law or perhaps their own conscience, find themselves in Pengung.
The poverty level of its residents keeps the more affluent traders away but there are hawkers aplenty selling goods that they no doubt salvaged from ruins or pulled out of the scummy water. Criminals, rouges and scoundrels pass through here often, terrorizing the already displaced and disheartened people.
This is Pengung. We suggest that you not linger.
