Welcome to St. Stroldrum[]
Polite magical society has fallen into the ruinous grip of the Diaboliaca, a void civilization that released the Eldritch Virus, a plague corroding through the very heart of each and every witch land until nothing remained besides empty space.
St. Stroldrum is one of the few remaining living cities that fled ruin by escaping to the mortal world, but not without a price. Though magic survives, however marginally, mortal civilization has been torn apart and replaced by the depravity that comes hand in hand with coexistence with magic kind. Now, nightmares roam the streets at midnight. Death's grip has weakened from internal disarray, and ghosts wander the mortal plane, unable to find rest. Empty porcelain vessels of spirits never born guard every gateway at night, maintained in an agonized state between living and death by the witch mechanics of the Institute of Grotesquerie. Incorporeal figures roam the tainted roads of the Fallen Quarter, where St. Stroldrum's former witch queen lies in eternal torment, and a corrupt Senate extends its malicious intentions through even the city's brightest Districts, and an insidious underworld blossoms from the disillusioned terror inspired by the Old Ones' constant approach.
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