The Riven Lands are a fractured realm born from a magical event, The Sundering which violently pulled people from countless realities into a bleeding scar across existence. Magic here is a vile, twisting curse, its power warping flesh and mind. Its inhabitants, xenophobic and without loyalty, cling to life amidst decaying lands, endless wars, and horrifying Gods that everyone worships in some form. Hope is a lie; only brutal struggle remains in this world drowned in cynicism and sheer cruelty.
| Played | 8 times |
| Cloned | 3 times |
| Created | 2 days ago |
| Last Updated | Yesterday |
| Visibility | Public |
| Coordinates | (-2734, 9005) |
A small, iron-sheathed hall in a remote settlement, perpetually thick with the clang of metal and the roar of furnaces. Its purpose is to govern the populace through the relentless productivity of their forges and mines. Work involves managing the sheer, grinding productivity, suppressing worker rebellions, and overseeing the allocation of resources. You'd find war-weary commanders arguing over battle plans and grim-faced engineers detailing structural decay. Its halls echo with a desperate resolve to preserve their last bastion of order.
The hall is constructed from dark iron plates, with soot-stained walls and heavy iron doors. Inside, the air is thick with smoke and heat, and the sound of hammering metal echoes constantly. War-weary commanders and grim engineers occupy the dimly lit chambers, their faces marked by exhaustion and resolve.