A flat, colorless expanse where sky and earth blend into a long, listless grey. A pervasive fog veils all — erasing edges, swallowing contrast, and smudging distance until near and far feel the same. Skeletal beasts drift listlessly, their shapes bleached to a pallid silhouette. It would be terrifying—a ghaslty void—if not for the placid hush that mutes every sound. Only the pale white flowers, the Asphodel Wisps, show through the blur. Small, unbitten blossoms, the lone resilient softness of a deathly grey wasteland.
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Asphodel Meadows
Elf J Trul
A flat, colorless expanse where sky and earth blend into a long, listless grey. A pervasive fog veils all — erasing edges, swallowing contrast, and smudging distance until near and far feel the same. Skeletal beasts drift listlessly, their shapes bleached to a pallid silhouette. It would be terrifying—a ghaslty void—if not for the placid hush that mutes every sound. Only the pale white flowers, the Asphodel Wisps, show through the blur. Small, unbitten blossoms, the lone resilient softness of a deathly grey wasteland.


