Rainoga

God Street is no ordinary thoroughfare—it is a metaphysical avenue woven into the planes where ambition and belief collide, a place where the dreams of dominion take form in stone and shadow. Towering spires and warped cathedrals line its curving length, each structure shaped by the ethos and vanity of the deity or demigod who claims it. This is sacred ground for lawful evil powers—new gods clawing for recognition, old ones fighting obsolescence. The very stones hum with oathbound magic, the air heavy with incense, whispered prayers, and the iron taste of cosmic contracts. Petitioners, acolytes, and planar agents tread carefully here, for a single word can seal a fate, and a glance can start a holy war. Gods rise and fall in silent rituals or devastating displays, their influence reshaping the realm’s structure as dogma calcifies into reality. To walk God Street is to witness divine ambition raw and unfiltered, sharpened into doctrine and etched into the soul of the multiverse.

Vaulting towers loom over a crooked street of onyx and obsidian, their forms ever-shifting—part cathedral, part fortress, part idol. Crimson and violet light spills from stained-glass spires, casting shifting patterns across the street. Cloaked figures kneel before impossible shrines while faceless statues weep molten gold. The atmosphere is suffocating with ritual and grandeur, as if belief itself takes form in the air.