After a tragic accident you are transported to a world of sword and sorcery.
Played | 17 times |
Cloned | 3 times |
Created | 7 days ago |
Last Updated | 3 days ago |
Visibility | Public |

Coordinates | (5249, 8479) |
The Weeping Meadows, once verdant plains, now stretch as far as the eye can see in a nightmarish tapestry of corruption. Overseen by Einar Plag, the human Pestilent Prophet, this blighted expanse oozes with putrescence. Sickly, phosphorescent flora exude toxic spores, while the very soil bleeds a foul ichor. The air is thick with the stench of decay and the constant, mournful keening of tortured earth. Shambling horrors, victims of Einar's "healing," tend vast fields of poison crops used to brew vile concoctions. The Pox-Spire, Einar's laboratory, looms at the meadow's heart, its walls pulsating with cancerous growths. Rivers run black with pollution, their waters teeming with parasitic horrors. In hidden groves, Einar conducts horrific rituals, fusing plant and flesh into abominations that serve as his personal guard. The Weeping Meadows are a testament to nature corrupted, where even the act of breathing can lead to a fate worse than death.
Vast, twisted plains under a blood-red sky, with sickly glowing plants exuding menacing spores, dark rivers snaking through the landscape, and a pulsating spire in the distance, enveloped in a haze of decay.