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Description

Perhaps in some bygone age, the city had a name. Back in those long gone days when there was not but one haven in the Underworld but multiple scattered across its wasted landscape. Back when the ruins were whole, a thriving civilisation of the dead that existed as a mirror of the living world above. Back when the soulless demons and spirits that prowled the ashen barrens were but minor things, occasional risks, not the ever-present threat that they exist as today.

Such an age, if indeed it did ever exist, is long gone now. The other cities are empty and hollow, the heavy silence of the air only broken by the shrill howls of those inhuman beasts that were once men. The cyclopean ruins that lie shattered here and there are long abandoned and crumbling, long forgotten. And across the wastes, wherever one turns, one always sees them: the demons, the beast-things that were once men, soulless and empty, crude mockeries of the human image.

Only The City remains. Only The City endures. For countless millennia the dead have made their home here, a haven where the soul can be protected, where some semblance of the life they once had can be practised. Thus has it been since the days of the first men, and thus will it be for as long as the one rule that has governed humanity for all its existence remains in place: death.

Perhaps one day, The City too will fall apart. Whatever protection allows the souls of its inhabitants to remain intact will fade away, and all that shall be heard from that day forth in the lands of the dead will be the cries and wails of the soulless, an eternity of painful existence having lost the very thing that makes them human, with no way of ever getting it back.

One day, one day. For now though, The City endures. For now, its ranks continue to fill. For now, it remains.

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Artwork belongs to

Description

Perhaps in some bygone age, the city had a name. Back in those long gone days when there was not but one haven in the Underworld but multiple scattered across its wasted landscape. Back when the ruins were whole, a thriving civilisation of the dead that existed as a mirror of the living world above. Back when the soulless demons and spirits that prowled the ashen barrens were but minor things, occasional risks, not the ever-present threat that they exist as today.

Such an age, if indeed it did ever exist, is long gone now. The other cities are empty and hollow, the heavy silence of the air only broken by the shrill howls of those inhuman beasts that were once men. The cyclopean ruins that lie shattered here and there are long abandoned and crumbling, long forgotten. And across the wastes, wherever one turns, one always sees them: the demons, the beast-things that were once men, soulless and empty, crude mockeries of the human image.

Only The City remains. Only The City endures. For countless millennia the dead have made their home here, a haven where the soul can be protected, where some semblance of the life they once had can be practised. Thus has it been since the days of the first men, and thus will it be for as long as the one rule that has governed humanity for all its existence remains in place: death.

Perhaps one day, The City too will fall apart. Whatever protection allows the souls of its inhabitants to remain intact will fade away, and all that shall be heard from that day forth in the lands of the dead will be the cries and wails of the soulless, an eternity of painful existence having lost the very thing that makes them human, with no way of ever getting it back.

One day, one day. For now though, The City endures. For now, its ranks continue to fill. For now, it remains.

---

Artwork belongs to