In a world drained of nature’s essence, where the familiar rhythms of life no longer flow, magic-wielding healers rule with vanity and cruelty.
| Played | 2 times |
| Cloned | 2 times |
| Created | 79 days ago |
| Last Updated | 72 days ago |
| Visibility | Public |
Dark Junk-Filled Closet
The Dark Junk-Filled Closet is a neglected space that seems to exist forgotten by time. Inside, various items of all shapes and sizes are haphazardly piled together, creating an almost claustrophobic atmosphere. The air is thick with dust and an unmistakable musty odor, evoking a sense of decay as if secrets from long ago lie buried beneath the clutter. Despite its lack of charm, the closet serves as a curious repository of forgotten memories.
Hog's Breath Cafeteria
Hog's Breath Cafeteria serves as the grim dining hall for the inmates of the Veilspire Asylum. The atmosphere is thick with tension and despair as prisoners gather here for their meager meals, sharing hushed whispers and wary glances. The air is laden with a foul stench, a nauseating mixture of unwashed bodies and spoiled food, that clings to the walls and lingers long after the last meal has been served.
Prison Commissary
The commissary serves as a somber reminder of the prison's neglect, with sparse shelves barely holding a few meager provisions. The atmosphere is heavy with the scent of damp stone and stale air, and the flickering lanterns cast eerie shadows along the walls, hinting at the despair of the inmates.
The Bleach Yards
Bleach Yards is a barren expanse of cracked stone and windblasted debris. Used as both a punishment zone and corpse disposal site, the area gets its name from the way the relentless sun and alkaline winds bleach everything to bone-white over time — stones, scaffolds, and skeletons alike. Despite its grim use, guards sometimes herd prisoners into the Yards under the pretense of “open air exercise,” though it’s more often a spectacle for intimidation than rehabilitation. At the far end stands a stone obelisk cracked through the middle, with inscriptions in a long-dead tongue. Some prisoners swear it wasn’t always there, and others hear faint whispers when standing too close. Franz: “The Sunlot” Every few weeks, a random lottery is held where a few inmates are chosen to be chained to reflective slabs for an entire day. Most come back broken; some don’t come back at all. A character the PCs care about has just been chosen — or perhaps one of them is.
The Brindlewatch
The Brindlewatch — the guards’ barracks and sanctuary from the horrors they oversee. Stark and militaristic, the walls are lined with bunk alcoves carved directly into the stone, each marked by branded iron sigils denoting rank. The air is dry with the tang of sweat, leather oil, and sterilizing salts. Despite its barracks nature, The Brindlewatch also acts as a social staging ground for the guards. There’s a Betting Ledger, used to track bloodsport odds in The Bleeding Cup, and whispered rumors scrawled beneath it — paranoia and power games that suggest even guards turn on one another. Hidden beneath a loose stone under a captain’s cot is a private trapdoor leading to a narrow passage — one used only in the event of total facility collapse or mass breach. Some say it leads into the old Dreadhold corridors; others believe it was sealed for a reason.
The Crucivane
The Crucivane is an arcane-physical apparatus used to perform soul fragmentation and memory realignment. To the Dominion, it’s a tool of compliance — for shaping perfect servants, rewriting defectors, and breaking revolutionaries until they beg to forget who they were. It’s believed to be semi-sentient, possibly grown from ancient technomantic roots buried beneath Luminara — a relic of a time when healing magic was purer... or more monstrous. Mechanism: The subject is fastened to a suspended lattice of silvered limbs, and the central wheel begins to turn. Each rotation pulls at soul-threads, drawing out memory-weights, regrets, emotions — anything that can be bent or bled. The Crucivane does not need to be fast to hurt. In fact, it prefers the slow turn. Unbeknownst to the Healers’ Dominion, the Crucivane is starting to resist. It remembers everyone. The stolen memories have begun coalescing into an unstable mental echo — a fragmented consciousness trapped inside the wheel.
The Dreadhold
Deep within the Veilspire Asylum lies an unsettling area designed to contain Luminara's most dangerous prisoners. Here, in the forsaken cells, echoes of despair resonate through the damp stone walls, serving as a constant reminder of the threats these individuals pose to the realm. Each cell, hostile and fortified, houses the remnants of those who dared to conspire against the healers, their dark intent lingering in the air like an ominous shadow.
The Echo Reliquary
The Echo Reliquary — a solemn and unsettling chamber where the Dominion stores “echoes” of sin, preserved as immutable truths. The room is circular and amphitheater-like, constructed of smooth, pale stone with a central obsidian pillar that hums with faint vibration. Around the chamber, walls are studded with hundreds of black, glassy tablets — each bearing a name and a description of a crime, slowly etched by unseen forces. No guards linger here. They don’t need to. The weight of memory — real or not — crushes all who enter. These echoes are not drawn from fact. They are imposed, forced into existence by a cruel Dominion rite. They are warnings, weapons, and lies. Once inscribed, they become “truth” in the eyes of the law. Franz: When the players arrive, the Reliquary stirs. A low tremor pulses from the pillar. Then, one of the obsidian plaques begins to etch itself. A character’s name. A crime they’ve never committed. Not yet.
The Grasping Reach
The prisoners' courtyard for Veilspire Asylum is an unsettling place, where the remnants of once-vibrant life have been replaced by despair. The dirt-covered ground bears no signs of vegetation, creating a bleak environment that reflects the souls trapped within. Above, the imposing Aegis Spire looms, a constant reminder of the watchful eyes overseeing every prisoner’s movement.
The Grime Crew's Quarters
The Grime Crew's Quarters serve as the dismal backdrop of a prison's janitorial workforce, where laborers toil in the shadows of despair. This dark and filthy environment is fraught with the smell of decay and the echoes of past violence, as workers earn a pittance for their grueling efforts scrubbing away the remnants of chaos. The promise of bonuses hangs like a noose over the crew, teasing them with the illusion of reward while fostering bitterness and unrest among the ranks. In an atmosphere thick with tension, these laborers navigate the corridors of misery, spying for their own survival amidst the power struggles of prison gangs.
The Infirmary
A dimly lit room filled with narrow beds and various medical equipment, where healers attend to the injured and sick. The antiseptic smell is overwhelming, and the atmosphere is tense, as secrets and conversations unfold within its walls.
The Last Refuge
The Last Refuge are a haunting prelude to the depths of the notorious Veilspire prisons. These small, damp rooms serve as temporary confinement for prisoners, their cold stone walls echoing the whispers of torment from those who once occupied them. Flickering torches illuminate the air thick with the scent of mildew and despair, providing a glimpse into the dark history of the asylum.
The Severance Gate (Locked)
Carved into the crumbling cliffs beyond Luminara’s outskirts, the entrance to Veilspire Asylum is a scar in the stone, a recessed archway swallowed by sun-baked rock and the weight of silence. The path to it winds through cracked earth and dust-swept ridges, where the wind carries only grit and the distant sound of chains rattling in the heat. The gate itself is a monolithic slab of petrified sandstone, its surface weathered by decades of wind erosion and blistering sun. Its only markings are faded reliefs — stern-faced figures with eyes scratched out, symbols of judgment and containment etched deep into the surface. It doesn’t swing or creak; it grinds, dragging stone against stone as it lowers into the ground when opened, sending vibrations through the canyon floor. Prisoners are brought here blindfolded and shackled, marched into the earth like offerings to something best left buried.
The Sweatworks
In the depths of the prison, the Graven Chalice guild operates a grim and exploitative operation called "The Sweatworks." Here, prisoners are forced into sweltering, confined chambers designed to maximize perspiration. Their sweat, tears, and even other bodily fluids are collected, filtered, and processed into water for the guild’s profit. It's a desperate, degrading job, offering only meager, unfair compensation in the prison’s currency—barely enough for a stale piece of bread or a sip of clean water. Sweat Chambers: Cramped, steam-filled rooms with hot lamps and poor ventilation. Prisoners are forced to perform grueling physical tasks like cranking heavy levers or running treadmills to maintain the illusion of "productivity" while they sweat profusely. Rumors tell of a valve hidden in the pipes — turning it opens something deep below.
Warden's Chambers
The Warden's Room in Veilspire Asylum is a damp and mildew-ridden chamber that holds a collection of lost and found items, along with an assortment of keys. This is where the warden spends most of his time, managing the remnants of the prison's chaotic past amidst the oppressive atmosphere.