The City Of Skarnhold

The "New" City

## Overview

Beneath the weight of a towering mountain, Skarnhold stands as the subterranean heartbeat of Rodinovka, a city carved from the very essence of the earth itself. Spanning miles upon miles within the bowels of the mountain, it's a labyrinthine hive city where the echoes of time are swallowed by the eternal dark.

At the zenith of this subterranean expanse lies the "New" city, a makeshift labyrinth of homes and huts, connected by precarious walkways and tunnels. Here, the air is thick with the scent of torches and the hum of life resonates through the cavernous halls. The industrious Ratkin scurry along these cramped passages, their homes clinging to the rough-hewn walls like barnacles on the side of a ship.

Yet, as the city extends deeper, it becomes an archaeological marvel lost to the ages. Forgotten sections, veiled in the shadows of eons, house ancient ruins and remnants of a bygone era. Forgotten temples echo with the whispers of prayers that haven't been heard for millennia, their crumbling walls etched with tales now relegated to the dust of history.

In the "New" city, where the flickering light barely penetrates the ever-present darkness, life unfolds in the shadowy embrace of Skarnhold. Makeshift bazaars teem with traders peddling wares, their stalls illuminated by the dim glow of phosphorescent fungi. Residents carve homes into the rock, a community that thrives amidst the perpetual dusk.

Venturing into the forgotten sections is a journey into the unknown. Ruins echo with the voices of ancient civilizations, their stories told through crumbling murals and dilapidated statues. Time, an unfeeling architect, has woven a tapestry of mystery and decay, leaving fragments of the past scattered like forgotten dreams.

Skarnhold, houses an unfathomable near-trillion inhabitants within its sprawling depths. In the perpetual gloom of the subterranean expanse, billions upon billions of Ratkin navigate the labyrinthine pathways, their makeshift homes clinging to the rocky walls. The "New" city, perched at the highest cavernous points, teems with life as its countless denizens carve out an existence amidst the shadows. This subterranean behemoth stands as a testament to the resilience and complexity of a society thriving under the colossal weight of near-trillions, where every step echoes with the ceaseless pulse of life in the abyssal metropolis.

Skarnhold, with its dual identity as a thriving hub and a mausoleum of time, stands as a testament to Rodinovka's layered history. A city where the past and present coalesce in an intricate dance, where the whispers of the ancients echo in the ears of those who dare to tread upon its uneven stone. In the deepest recesses of the mountain, Skarnhold breathes, its pulse reverberating through the veins of Rodinovka, a city whose secrets are as boundless as the labyrinthine tunnels that cradle its heart.

In the depths of Skarnhold, where the ancient tunnels wind through forgotten sections and dilapidated structures, a darkness stirs—a realm inhabited by the twisted remnants of what some believe were once Ratkin, lost to the unforgiving hands of time. These mutated horrors, veiled in shadows, are the grotesque offspring of ages long past, preying upon the unsuspecting who dare to venture into the forgotten corners of the abyssal metropolis.

The forgotten tunnels, buried beneath layers of history, now serve as the hunting grounds for these nightmarish entities. Mutated beyond recognition, their forms are a grotesque distortion of the Ratkin's once-familiar silhouette. Unearthly wails and chittering echoes accompany their movements through the ancient ruins, as they prowl amidst the remnants of a civilization now obscured by the shroud of time.

Lost to sanity and consumed by the primal instincts of survival, these abyssal denizens move with unsettling agility through the labyrinthine corridors, hunting with predatory precision. Their claws, once Ratkin hands, are now grotesque appendages adapted for gruesome purposes. Tales told in hushed whispers speak of eyes that gleam with an otherworldly hunger, feral and devoid of any semblance of reason.

For those who enter the forgotten tunnels, the horrors that dwell within become an inescapable nightmare. Mutated Ratkin, once kin to the living, have become twisted echoes of the past, haunting the depths like phantoms of a bygone era. Skarnhold's forgotten sections harbor the shadows of forgotten time, where the line between predator and prey blurs, and the price of trespassing is paid in the currency of terror.