New Vance City

Once a glimmering monument of post-Collapse faith, the Rotting Cathedral now festers at the heart of the Shambler’s Graveyard like a wound that never healed. Legends say the first wave of infection bloomed beneath its altar, when a sanctuary of the desperate turned into a hive of the doomed. Now, the building acts less like a ruin and more like a nerve center for whatever unnatural communion the Silent Walkers share with the shamblers. Those who wander inside don’t always die—but they never come back the same. Static pulses through broken speakers, and the air is heavy with a thick, fungal spore-mist that numbs both thought and speech. Inside, the pews are filled with decomposing corpses posed in worship, and the pulpit is often occupied by a Silent Walker—preaching in silence to an audience of the dead. No official faction lays claim to it, but all acknowledge its influence. It is not a ruin. It is a cathedral with a new congregation.

The Rotting Cathedral towers crookedly over the Graveyard’s skyline, its spire cracked and sagging like a finger pointing toward an uncaring sky. Fungal growths erupt from the stone like tumors, glowing faintly in violet and green bioluminescence. The stained-glass windows are cracked mosaics of saints with melted faces, smeared in biological residue and old blood. Vines—black and twitching—crawl up the bell tower, where no bells ring anymore, only the low warble of corrupted radio hymns. Inside, the air buzzes faintly with interference, and the temperature is unnaturally warm, humid with decay. The walls sweat. Wooden pews are warped and fused with bone. The altar is crusted over with ossified offerings, teeth, and mechanical fragments. Light filters through mold-fogged glass, creating an eerie pastel glow over the congregation of still corpses. A Silent Walker often stands at the center, motionless and watching, like a pastor awaiting a response that never comes.