Falkovnia
Falkovnia is a Domain of Dread locked in an eternal struggle against the relentless dead. Once a land of conquest and rigid discipline, it has become a crumbling battlefield where the living cling to survival amid the constant siege of an unending zombie apocalypse. Its cities lie in ruin, its farmlands are graveyards, and its roads are lifeless veins threading through a dying land.
To live in Falkovnia is to count every breath, every step, every friend still alive as a miracle. But miracles are rare, and the dead are always coming.
Localized Phenomena
Every month, like clockwork, a vast horde of zombies rises, seemingly from nowhere, sweeping across Falkovnia with mindless hunger. These undead—once neighbors, soldiers, farmers—tear through everything in their path. No victory is final, no defense permanent. The living are always outnumbered, and the enemy never tires.
The undead are not directed by a single will, but the curse of Falkovnia ensures they return with regular, horrific precision. They are an unstoppable natural disaster, a tide of death that no dam can hold.
Climate
Falkovnia is dominated by barren countrysides, abandoned villages, and ruined cities, all scarred by battle and decay. The skies are often overcast or stormy, and the air carries the foul stench of rot and smoke. The once-proud infrastructure of the realm has collapsed under the weight of never-ending war, and each dusk brings terror—for that is when the dead rise in waves.
Walls are patched with gravestones, streets choke with barricades, and watchtowers blaze with warning fires. The land is not lifeless—but life is hunted.
Fauna & Flora
General Vladeska Drakov, the iron-fisted Darklord of Falkovnia, rules from Lekar, a fortified but crumbling capital city. A brutal and unyielding military leader, Drakov believes only through discipline, sacrifice, and merciless authority can the living endure. She maintains absolute control through fear, conscription, and public executions of anyone deemed disloyal or cowardly.
She views every attack as a chance to prove her tactical genius, yet her victories are hollow—temporary, illusory. Her curse is one of futility: no matter her preparations or ruthlessness, she cannot win. Her unbreakable pride and inability to accept the hopelessness of her situation ensnare the entire realm in an eternal war.
Tourism
Falkovnia is a realm of hopeless resistance, military horror, and the inescapable grip of undeath. It embodies the terror of being trapped in a war you can never win, where courage and loyalty are crushed under the weight of attrition and despair. It evokes a tone of grim survival, where every living soul is a soldier, every night a siege, and every morning a grim roll call of the dead.
Thematically, Falkovnia speaks to the futility of authoritarian control in the face of chaos, the trauma of unending conflict, and the way pride can be as damning as any curse.
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