The Desolation

The Desolation is an overgrown swamp, covered in filth and the dreams of an age past. Small pools of still waters are abundant, their syrupy water drowning anyone foolish enough to enter, or drink from therein. Overgrown trees, gnarled and cruel, reach towards the heavens. They, like all other plant life therein, are twisted into an eternal mockery of life.

While many other swamps hold a similar despair, all pale in comparison to this accursed place. The land itself is irreversibly corrupted, the reek of evil hanging over the place.

The Desolation remains the same year-round, trapped in a cycle outside the restraints of time. The hot, sticky air doesn't cool in the cold months, nor does rain fall when the skies pour out across the rest of the land. Every day bleeds into the same, the swamp bound by a callous monotony. Only when a fool ventures into these lands does life seem to return, the lands roused by their sadistic nature, hungering for the blood of another.

Madness overtakes all who would come to this place. Bravado and pride in their abilities crumble before reaching the accursed shrine within. No beast inhabits this place, and few plants flourish therein. Reeds and grass are filled with thorns, and the old trees retain the appearance of death, with no leaves sprouting thereon. Dozens of eyes follow the intruder, children born of the wicked machinations of the Outsiders inhabit this place, succumbing to the tolling bell. They are horrific to behold, pale and unnatural, ageless with the swamps. Laughter follows them, rejoicing in the depravity around them and the realization that others face. Their laughter haunts those who flee, heard in the dead of night, no matter how far they run.

Arriving upon the shrine within, the sights threaten to overpower most. Those that have witnessed the evil and were found unworthy surround it, their tears and cries for mercy filling the air. The madmen stumble, ever-running yet unable to leave the torment they've welcomed upon themselves. Something within, perhaps the tolling of the bell, draws them back, should they come close to escaping. The unblinking eyes of Sunguo watch all that approach; the third and final warning against any that would come for the dark knowledge found within.

Relics of a foregone age call to those willing to sacrifice anything for their power and hidden knowledge. These books and statues are more than the eyes can bear; neither is it something that can be forgotten. Those who've braved the Desolation in their search, and have returned to the world are forever bound to this place. They see the words whenever they close their eyes, their dreams filled with the memories of the swamps and what lay within. Sunguo waits for them. As they approach death, many claim to see his figure nearby, resting on his gnarled staff, waiting.

Only those marked by evil, the most depraved of humanity, hear the calling of the black bell. Those who would come to this place have already forsaken their humanity; shells of mortals, the unforgivable follow this path, commonly known as the path of tears. Awaiting them is the promise of nigh-unstoppable magic, and the unholy truths which bind Xùyì.