Necromantic Kingdoms
The castle awaits. The castle is waiting for you. It has been waiting for millennia.
Perched atop this flayed and barren hill, birthed by the volcanic contractions of the underworld, that place they call the Styx.
By day, the hill lies naked. The place remains strange. The birds do not sing here. The vegetation, sullen and deranged, appears to be slowly rotting away... as though its very presence upon these black rocks were some unspeakable aberration. Giant black spiders, weaving their milky webs, are the only animal species inhabiting the surrounding wasteland, save for a handful of albino lizards.
By day, the place is unsettling, filling the human soul with profound and inexplicable unease. Logic comes to an end in these lands of perdition. Compasses cease to function. Minds that linger here for too long become contaminated, polluted by moribund reveries and death-dealing desires.
But this is nothing compared to the nocturnal atmosphere of the hill-excrescence.
At night, the castle appears. Suddenly. One moment it isn't there, and the next it drowns your entire field of vision.
Its vast, empty vestibule awaits you... A lamenting wind seeps inside, stirring the dust of the anti-centuries. The thousand and one chambers and antechambers, forever recomposing themselves into new and impossible configurations; the library of forbidden volumes; the supernaturalist keep, strewn with rusted instruments of torture and scattered bones; the damp, festering dungeon; the phantom ballroom... All of it awaits you.
Yes, you. The new necromancer-lord of this place.
You have been summoned to reign over an empty, lifeless world, over subjects who have been rotting since before the first dawn of our world.
Welcome to a very ancient realm; a realm of soot, ashes, blackened lichen, and self-annihilation.
