Welcome to The Carrion Fields. Let the bloodshed begin!
It is 12 o'clock PM, Day of the Moon
35th of the Month of the Great Evil in the year 535 (6th Age).
A Field of Stumps and Saplings
Chipped and pitted with worms, rotting stumps are strewn throughout the
field. Short shoots of brown grass struggle between thick roots that crawl
above the ground. Decay has taken over much of the tangled mess, but
tendrils of living wood extending from the nearby forest are sprouting new
saplings. A few spots of dirt are visible in holes in the twisting
undergrowth, showing no trace of any track or trail and creating treacherous
footing. The noises of animals escape the tree line, each one echoing out
until the smallest animal sounds a deadly predator.


A duergar moves about energetically, leaving small traces of black colored spit behind.
A shining silver construct has entered the realm.
A mummy has entered the realm.
A zombie of a war-weary storm giant has entered the realm.
A zombie of a gorgeous silver-haired elf has entered the realm.
A zombie of a war-weary storm giant has entered the realm.
A mummy has entered the realm.
A zombie of a war-weary storm giant has entered the realm.
A zombie of a gorgeous silver-haired elf has entered the realm.
A zombie of a war-weary storm giant has entered the realm.