The sky here is forever stained crimson. The wind carries not sand, but red spores, and with every breath comes the sweet scent of rot that burrows deep into the lungs. People call this place Caelid, but few now remember that name. This place is now just a 'great tomb.'

The 'Scarlet Rot' has devoured the land, leaving a wound that will never heal.

What now wanders this land is neither living nor dead. Only the gaunt husks of soldiers who have lost their minds to the rot, repeating an eternal war, and the grotesque beasts raised on feasting on rotten flesh. In the depths of the scarlet swamp, the children of the insect, who worship the rot as a new god, are born, spreading their terrible gospel.

Here, the very land, the trees, and the rocks all live, breathe, and rot. Traveler, beware before you set foot here. This land is not merely sick. It is a new life, a process of rebirth both hideous and divine.

Here, death is no respite, and life is no blessing. Only the Scarlet Rot is eternal.