Apollyon
A perpetual eclipse looms above the bleak wastelands of Apollyon, shedding an eerie half-light over a landscape of toxic, disease-ridden swamps, volcanic wastes, fog-shrouded forests, and the glittering, memory-devouring ribbon of the River Styx. An unnatural silence blankets the plane, cut only by the wails of damned souls falling from the sky like screaming, falling stars, or those already condemned upon the ground, desperate to find safety that doesn’t exist. Daemons, the physical embodiments of death and oblivion, roam unchecked, owing allegiance only to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Death, Famine, Pestilence, and War. In the courts of the Horsemen and the neutral grounds of trade cities such as Abaddon, the soul trade serves daemonic hunger and industrialized oblivion. Night hags and other creatures ply the trade or make their way along the margins of daemonic society, eager to avoid consumption themselves by the plane’s nihilistic masters.
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