Souls within Sarcophagus
uilt within the colossal corpse of a murdered god, its air tastes of ozone and embalming fluid. Fungal light glows on streets of fused bone and corroded pipe. Here, survival is measured in rust-scraped breaths and compromised souls.
Follow the damned:
- A flesh-weaver implanting a cosmic weapon in a slave's throat, his tools crumbling to dust in his grasp.
- An aristocrat auctioning her soul to outrun poverty, only to find decay stains more than silk.
- A sweep-boy falling into god-gut vats, adopted by carnivorous plants blooming in his eye sockets.
- A weaponized slave whose scream melts her own bones to fuel a tyrant's ambition.
- A cultist feeding pilgrims to a sentient mosaic of stolen memories.
- A family bargaining with a dying flower to save their child
Their fates intertwine through leaking pipes and psychic echoes. One's desperate act becomes another's doom. A surgeon's slip unleashes city-shaking Rust. A slave's scream floods homes with toxic spores. A stolen cure poisons the well.
The god is not dead. It reacts.
Its flesh-vats boil with rage. Its mosaic tiles steal memories. Its rust spreads like a curse. And when the Whisper peaks – a resonance of converging agonies – six lives unravel in a symphony of crumbling skeletons, petrified love, and blossoming decay.
In this claustrophobic hellscape of divine rot and industrial decay, there are no heroes. Only survivors sacrificing fragments of their humanity to endure another day in the belly of a rotting god. Victory is temporary. Decay is eternal. And every soul is just sediment in the Sarcophagus.
uilt within the colossal corpse of a murdered god, its air tastes of ozone and embalming fluid. Fungal light glows on streets of fused bone and corroded pipe. Here, survival is measured in rust-scraped breaths and compromised souls.Follow the damned: A flesh-weaver implanting a cosmic weapon in a slave's throat, his tools crumbling to dust in his grasp. An aristocrat auctioning her soul to outrun poverty, only to find decay stains more than silk. A sweep-boy falling into god-gut vats, adopted by carnivorous plants blooming in his eye sockets. A weaponized slave whose scream melts her own bones to fuel a tyrant's ambition. A cultist feeding pilgrims to a sentient mosaic of stolen memories. A family bargaining with a dying flower to save their child Their fates intertwine through leaking pipes and psychic echoes. One's desperate act becomes another's doom. A surgeon's slip unleashes city-shaking Rust. A slave's scream floods homes with toxic spores. A stolen cure poisons the well.The god is not dead. It reacts.Its flesh-vats boil with rage. Its mosaic tiles steal memories. Its rust spreads like a curse. And when the Whisper peaks – a resonance of converging agonies – six lives unravel in a symphony of crumbling skeletons, petrified love, and blossoming decay.In this claustrophobic hellscape of divine rot and industrial decay, there are no heroes. Only survivors sacrificing fragments of their humanity to endure another day in the belly of a rotting god. Victory is temporary. Decay is eternal. And every soul is just sediment in the Sarcophagus.