Land of the Dead
From Zok
Contents |
The Land of the Dead
Below Asriphil and the Plains of Glass lies the Land of the Dead. Its outer border is formed by a tremendous and impassable mountain range, and its center is occupied by a large, smooth, and circular sea, called (surprisingly enough) the Sea of the Dead. The plane is smooth and flat near the shores of the sea, and curves upward like the edge of a bowl as it nears the mountains. There are several large port cities on the sea, but they are dark and perilous towns. Most civilized creatures prefer to live as far from the still dark waters as they can, and so there are numerous settlements further inland. Few living creatures know well the politics of the Land of the Dead, because few dare to tread there, but it's apparent that the dead have numerous small nations, and that these nations trade and occasionally wage war with one another.
The eastern ring is more heavily populated than the western, which was shattered long ago when Hirzek threw Mozik down upon it. The blood of the slain god tainted the ground where it fell, and thick forests of crimson and black have sprung up to drink it. This cataclysmic event was, it is said, the first thing to cause waves upon the Sea of the Dead. It's also led to a higher composition of gnomes among the dead, and an increase in their political importance. Because Mozik is actually an inhabitant, his servants have risen to a position of prominence and serve the dead by arranging for adoption of their souls by living deities.
Inhabitants
The Land of the Dead is populated almost entirely by the souls of those who died but went unclaimed by the gods. This is far less than the total population of dead entities in Asriphil, much less in the world: the gods have many uses for souls. But those who choose no sides, who never serve a deity or never care to, these souls fall past the [[Plains of Glass] and land somewhere in the Land of the Dead. If they're lucky, they'll land far from the sea. If they're unlucky, they'll land in it.
The souls of the dead tend to congregate together, when they meet. They exchange tales of their lives, and build towns and cities similar to what they knew in life. They also struggle for continued survival, for there are things that prey upon the dead, strange creatures that wander the forests or stalk the streets of the dead cities. Most infamously, there are those who pilot crimson-sailed ships across the Sea of the Dead, raiding the shore for souls. None of these captured souls has ever been seen again, and it is widely believed that the crimson sailors sell them to servants of Krai who live deep below the sea.
Properties
The Land of the Dead's first immediately noticeable quality is somewhat subtle: it's the coloration. The plane is by no means black and white, but the color seems leeched out of it. The leaves on the trees aren't quite as green, the flowers aren't quite as bright. This effect extends to the other senses as well: smells aren't as vivid, foods taste just a little more bland, physical sensation isn't as intense. Even thoughts seem less interesting. Hope seems less important, love less passionate, joy isn't as fulfilling. Interestingly, this doesn't apply only to positive sensations. Pain seems slightly more numb than it should be, sorrow doesn't cut as deep, offensive odors are more bearable, shadows aren't as dark, and hate doesn't burn as hot. Everything in the Land of the Dead seems somehow numb. The only exception is other living creatures, which look bright and vibrant by comparison with their surroundings (though their perceptions and emotions are still numbed).
The Sun and the Moon rarely descend to these depths (except on raiding parties to capture undefended souls), but somehow the plane never suffers from a lack of light. There's a sort of ambient illumination wherever you go, and one can always see. The light doesn't change over time, however, and without the cycle of day and night it becomes easy to lose track of how long one has been in the Land of the Dead. Time itself passes slightly differently in the plane, and an day spent there might be a week or might be a month when one returns to the world of the living. Unfortunately for living travellers, the dead have no need to track time, and few means of measuring its passage exist. Combined with the fact that food and drink consumed in the Land of the Dead feel perfectly fulfilling but provide no actual nutrition, it's easily possible for one to die without realizing it until one tries to leave.
The dead cannot be destroyed or harmed except by effects which would destroy souls. They can, however, feel pain and pleasure, and claim that they don't suffer from the numbness that the place inflicts on the living.
