Death Dells

Layer 422 of the Abyss, known as the Death Dells, is the savage and blood-soaked realm of Yeenoghu, the Demon Prince of Gnolls and Lord of Savagery. It is a brutal, wind-scoured wasteland of jagged ravines, cracked plateaus, and dry riverbeds—all drenched in the stench of blood, carrion, and endless violence.

The Death Dells are not shaped by civilization or logic, but by predation and slaughter. The land is composed of rugged badlands, crisscrossed by deep gorges and gullies, their walls stained dark with centuries of spilled blood. The earth is hard and red, baked under a harsh sky that glows a bruised yellow by day and burns crimson at night. Dust storms, gnashing winds, and the howls of beasts echo constantly through the ravines.

Vegetation is rare and vicious—twisted thornbushes, blood-drinking cacti, and fungal growths that feed on corpses. Water is scarcer still, found only in stagnant pools at the bottom of canyons, where it is often fouled and guarded by monstrous predators. The skies overhead are thick with carrion birds and abyssal scavengers, circling endlessly, always well-fed.

This layer is home to endless hunting packs of demons, gnolls, and hyena-like monstrosities, all driven by an insatiable bloodlust. The natural order is one of constant warfare—pack against pack, predator against prey. There is no safe haven, no peace, no respite. The strong feed on the weak, and the weak rise only to become strong enough to kill in return. Corpses litter the terrain, often torn apart or half-eaten, and frequently reanimated as ghouls or undead by Yeenoghu’s will.

At the heart of the Death Dells is Yeenoghu’s war camp, a shifting mass of bone totems, spiked palisades, and crude temples, all stained with gore. The Prince of Gnolls himself roams the land freely, accompanied by slavering demonic packs. His presence inspires a frenzy of destruction, howling worship, and cannibalistic celebration among his followers.

Magic in the Death Dells is affected by the layer’s raw, brutal nature—spells related to healing, civilization, or peace are often weakened, while those involving rage, bloodshed, and summoning of beasts are empowered. The entire realm thrums with a hunger not just for flesh, but for domination and destruction.

In essence, the Death Dells are the embodiment of the hunt turned apocalyptic, a world where life exists only to feed the strong, and every moment is soaked in savagery. It is a realm ruled not by fear, but by the exultation of violence—a battlefield that never ends, and a shrine to the monstrous will of Yeenoghu, whose name is chanted through snarling teeth and blood-flecked howls.