Tartaros
Tartarus, Douglass' domain, is a region of metamorphosis, chaos, and biological marvel. The terrain itself pulses with unnatural life—black, blue, and sickly green stones twist into patterns that appear to grow and breathe like living tissue. The sky are filled with toxic mists and ever-shifting clouds that drip with odd fluids and fall into the countless rivers that crisscross the landscape.
These rivers are not formed of water, but of a variety of odd, shimmering liquids—each representing a different toxin, mutagen, or magical sickness. Some glow in brilliant gold, while others produce greasy purples or acidic reds. Each river holds the capacity to transform, infect, and evolve.
Souls who arrive in Tartarus are not punished. They were repurposed. They are expected to swim in the rivers, soak in the rot, and accept the metamorphosis. The process might be grueling, enlightening, or both—but it is never boring. Some souls mix with monsters, melt and regenerate, and become completely unrecognizable while still feeling more "themselves" than ever before.
Each river provides a unique evolutionary route, and courageous (or dumb) beings may venture to wade into several, allowing their essence to be torn apart and rebuilt time and over. The result is never the same, but always distinctive. Some appear divine, some monstrous—but all are transformed.
Douglass occasionally opens a rift into Tartarus, allowing a disciple to "peek" or perhaps take a blessed bath in one of the rivers before dying. It's a present, a preview, and a test.
"Take a sip. Take a swim. "Become what you were not meant to be."
Tartarus is not a place of calm or anguish; it is a place of change. And, in Douglass' opinion, what the vine realm keeps evolving just like everything else so so it's inhabitants.
These rivers are not formed of water, but of a variety of odd, shimmering liquids—each representing a different toxin, mutagen, or magical sickness. Some glow in brilliant gold, while others produce greasy purples or acidic reds. Each river holds the capacity to transform, infect, and evolve.
Souls who arrive in Tartarus are not punished. They were repurposed. They are expected to swim in the rivers, soak in the rot, and accept the metamorphosis. The process might be grueling, enlightening, or both—but it is never boring. Some souls mix with monsters, melt and regenerate, and become completely unrecognizable while still feeling more "themselves" than ever before.
Each river provides a unique evolutionary route, and courageous (or dumb) beings may venture to wade into several, allowing their essence to be torn apart and rebuilt time and over. The result is never the same, but always distinctive. Some appear divine, some monstrous—but all are transformed.
Douglass occasionally opens a rift into Tartarus, allowing a disciple to "peek" or perhaps take a blessed bath in one of the rivers before dying. It's a present, a preview, and a test.
"Take a sip. Take a swim. "Become what you were not meant to be."
Tartarus is not a place of calm or anguish; it is a place of change. And, in Douglass' opinion, what the vine realm keeps evolving just like everything else so so it's inhabitants.
Type
Multiverse
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