The Dying World
The Wind from the west. From the sundered land. Rot rides it, and the stench of blood.
The world is on a countdown. No one has seen the sun in years. Distances shift; paths between places warp. The world possesses a will and a bitter life, its mercy curdled to wrath over a too-long age. Reality decays. Truth becomes dream and dream truth. Cracks grow in the once-stable structures of the past, allowing things misshapen and vile to worm through, emerging into the day's wan light.
The world closes in. To the west the massive Bergen Chrypt with its catacombs and ice-caked peaks. The Endless Sea surrounds the rest. Many have ploughed the wave's furrow searching for new lands. They all return, against their will. Alive or dead.
Within these shrinking borders lie the kingdoms: Tveland (with Galgenbeck and Sarkash), the Wästland (with Schleswig and Lake Onda), Grift on its peninsula, frozen Kergüs in the north with Alliáns, and the Valley of the Unfortunate Undead where HE is coiled.
The old care more for sacrifice and god-offerings than their bawling spawn. Doomsayers are proved right time and again and embraced by hidden powers. Maybe it's best to surrender — to trust your own instinct and skill rather than the whim of the dice? Before all is drowned in welcome silence.
Life locked and failing in a DARK FORT.
Calendar of Nechrubel, Bergen Chrypt, Endless Sea, Tveland, Western Kingdom, Grift, Kergüs, Valley of the Unfortunate Undead, Galgenbeck, Sarkash, Two-Headed Basilisks
"MÖRK BORG" is Swedish for DARK FORT, pronounced MURK BORG. The world has no formal name in source — only the kingdoms within it. Whether the warping distances and shifting paths can be exploited (or are themselves a Misery in motion) is undefined.