Vyshesk

Once a land of grandeur, Vyshesk now stands as a hollow echo of its former self. The sprawling ruins of the Old Empire—once monuments to ambition—are now the haunts of long-banished evils, stirring in the dark places of the world. Fear governs the remnants of civilization.

The fractured realms of men cling desperately to the vestiges of their past, struggling to hold together what little remains. Here, the sword holds dominion over the pen. Scholars and sages seek to unearth the truths and power of the bygone age, yet they serve only at the pleasure of those strong enough to wield dominion over them. Knowledge is a tool, but might is the only law.

The gods are both absent and present, distant yet undeniable. To the common folk, they are legends—figures of unfathomable power, their origins obscured by time, their will unknowable. The world itself is rotting. The Blight, a lingering scar from the Old Empire’s fall, festers and spreads, twisting land and life alike. It cannot be reasoned with, nor halted—it is a sickness that devours all in its path.

There are no heroes. Only those who survive.