Lekar

Survival governs everything. Food is scarce. Medicine, rarer. The population dwindles each month, not just from attacks, but from disease, accidents, and despair.

• Militarization: Every citizen, regardless of age or status, is conscripted into some form of duty—fighters, scouts, cooks, corpse collectors. Even children carry messages or scavenge arrowheads from corpses.
• Rations and Order: Food is issued by the military in tightly controlled allotments. Those who steal or hoard are punished publicly and brutally.
• Religion and Hope: Churches still stand, but their gods feel distant. People pray not for salvation, but for a swift death. A new faith has begun to spread—whispered prayers to death itself, asking for mercy when the walls fall.

General Aderre rules Lekar with unflinching ruthlessness. She is a brilliant tactician, a charismatic orator, and a merciless enforcer. Some whisper she welcomes the undead attacks—that she sees them as tests of strength and purity. To her, Lekar is not just a city; it is a crucible where weakness is burned away.

• The Red Spire: A converted cathedral used as a command post and triage center. Wounded are brought here, but few ever leave.
• The Ossuary Pits: Vast trenches dug behind the walls, filled and burned after every siege. They are never empty for long.
• The Hall of Remembrance: A shrine where names of the fallen are etched into black stone. Its walls are now full, and new names are written over old ones.

• The Walls: Thick stone fortifications, blackened by flame and scarred by siege, ring Lekar. Watchtowers flame at all hours, manned by weary archers and desperate militia.
• The Inner Citadel: Once the home of Falkovnia’s noble elite, it has been converted into a hardened command center and refugee shelter. Here resides Vladilena Aderre, the Iron General and darklord of Falkovnia, whose cold resolve and brutal leadership keep the city's heart beating.
• The Barricade Districts: Entire neighborhoods have been transformed into kill zones and funnel points, where streets are narrowed and rooftops linked by bridges to slow and trap the undead.
• The Burnfields: Just outside the walls, these scorched fields are littered with the bones of previous attacks—ritualistically burned to prevent reanimation. The air smells always of ash.

Perched near the banks of the Vuchar River, Lekar was once the capital of Falkovnia and its cultural heart. Now it stands as the final redoubt of the living, surrounded on all sides by wilderness overrun with zombie hordes that emerge with terrifying regularity—every full moon, as if called by some apocalyptic curse.

The city's gates close tightly each cycle, and the siege begins anew. No amount of fire, steel, or stone can hold the legions at bay forever. Yet still, the city endures.