Isengard

The Dark Beneath: Isengard’s Undercity

The Maw of the Abyss

At the heart of the Merchants' Quarter stands an imposing circular structure known as the Sentinel's Watch. Its high walls and heavily guarded ramparts might be mistaken for a fortress, were it not for the eerie silence that pervades the air around it. At its center lies a vast courtyard, empty save for what appears to be an ancient well. But those who know the truth understand that this is no simple water source – it is one of the few controlled entrances to the nightmare realm below.

Blood Knight

Whispers in the Dark

Yet for all the fear the Undercity inspires, there are those who speak of it in hushed, reverent tones. Some claim it holds secrets from the time before Isengard, ruins of an ancient civilization that once thrived in these caverns. Others whisper of vast riches, magical artifacts, or forbidden knowledge hidden in its twisting corridors.

And then there are the darker rumors – of those who willingly venture into the depths, seeking power at any cost. They speak of blood mages who commune with the corrupted, of knights who have embraced the taint to gain unholy strength. These tales serve as both warning and temptation, a reminder of the fine line Isengard walks between glory and damnation.

The Undercity is Isengard’s shame and its secret weapon, a source of constant threat and hidden power. It is the dark root from which the city's pride and prosperity grow, a truth that the leaders of Isengard will do anything to keep buried – both figuratively and literally.

In the shadow of Isengard’s towering spires and bustling streets lies a darker truth, a festering wound beneath the city's proud exterior. The Undercity, a maze of ancient ruins and twisted corridors, serves as a grim reminder of the price paid for Isengard’s prosperity and the ever-present threat that lurks just below the surface.

Every few years, the relative peace of Isengard is shattered by a terrifying event known simply as the Surge. It begins with whispers, rumors of increased activity in the depths. Then come the tremors, subtle at first, but growing in intensity. The city guard mobilizes, citizens are ushered into shelters, and a tense silence falls over Isengard.

When it finally comes, it's a nightmare made real. From the opened entrances pour waves of twisted, mutated forms – the descendants of those Vinnandi lost to the Blood Plague generations ago. No longer recognizable as the dutiful servants they once were, these "blood ghouls" attack with a frenzied hunger, their corrupted forms a mockery of life.

The courtyards of the entrance fortifications become blood-soaked arenas, where Isengard’s bravest defenders hold the line against the horrors from below. It's a grim reminder of the cost of the city's existence, a price paid in blood and terror with each passing year.