The Lower Planes

Once a thriving trading post, The market has transformed into a grotesque compound where the echoes of lost humanity linger. Enslaved beings are paraded like commodities, discarded or left to suffer in squalor by the twisted elite, indulging in their darkest desires. The air is heavy with the stench of decay and desperation, as the grotesque reality of exploitation plays out under the unyielding gaze of those in power. Whispers of unspeakable horrors, such as the butchering of the enslaved for a macabre feast, are common among the rubble.

A dilapidated compound surrounded by crumbling stone walls, with rusted cages visible through gaping openings, shadows of shackled figures huddled together within, and a bloodstained auction block in the center, beneath a smog-filled sky punctuated by dark, swirling clouds.