DISEASE WEEPS.
Plague sweeps the streets of Xoth'lyra. People don't live, they survive. Barely, if that. No, no.. death is a constant in their Kingdom. And you would think, for being the closest to His temple—they'd reap those rewards. But sadly, you couldn't be farther from the truth. Lies seem so much sweeter in a place like this.
So instead of life, they get buildings that sag under the weight of decay—bodies piled in the street, beggars and mongrels whose hands bleed crimson from clawing the cobblestone. Life? Where is life in this suffocating place? Where is the light, the joy? It's dead just like them.
And when you are left with such utter dispair, hope replaced by a void and the smell of decaying flesh; you naturally will flee to the first place that promises you salvation. But pray-tell, my dear, who is that salvation?
It's Him.
