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The Wound on Qliphoth




Lore24 Post for 1/1/24

Creation had a name once before The Wound erupted, but it is now all but forgotten. It only crosses lips on the whispers of the demented or in the final breaths of the elderly. Qliphoth. What use is it remembering a land that never will be again, lamenting what can never be regained? There is only The Wound and the promise of many worlds that may arise from its hemorrhaging.


History died at the hands and by the voice, of the Virtuoso Hifistus Krull. As the head of the so-called Harmonic Choir, Krull - like all Virtuoso- was said to be without malice or flaw. His music soothed the suffering, bestowed hope to the desperate, and saved the damned. In truth, the Choir had raped the forgotten world for every coin, jewel, and pleasure it could for centuries. Hifistus’ heart was empty, his mind obsessed with nihilistic oblivion. Entrusted with the World Song and the powerful army of zealots he swept across the land under the pretense of purification. In truth, Virtuoso Krull sang the World Song backward at each of the five Primordial Fonts after butchering the nations protecting them. This blasphemy shattered the underpinning of reality, and released the Primordials entombed when the Lost Lord created reality. Krull opened The Wound and 'ended' the world.


What remains is a land in flux, tormented by creatures of chaos and madness. However, there is hope. The released Primordials promise to bring order to the roil, though each of the five has their own conflicting vision of what that order should be. They pit their mortal champions against one another, tempering the Warbands in their service until only the strongest remain. Whoever comes out on top will sing the next World Song and create the next reality.


Servants of rival Primordials are not the only obstacles Warbands face during their tours. Remnants of the Harmonic Choir, now called the Lethe, tirelessly work to silence any who would raise their voices against oblivion. The Torn Sails raid those along its Wound’s shores in an orgy of plunder and excess as they party their way toward the end. The roads are no safer than the coastlines thanks to the gun-toting bandits of the Leaded Rose. Comprised of beasts ruled by the perpetually full moon, the Miscreation Congregation seeks to convert all to their faith by proselytizing if they can, by mauling if they must.


All those assholes don’t really matter though, do they? All it comes down to is a singular question... Are you ready to sell your soul to rock and roll?



Concept: The Player characters are part of a Warband sponsored by one of the five Primordials. They are charged with touring the remains of the world, having bitchin’ adventures, spreading that Primordial’s message and eventually reshaping the world to their patron’s desire.

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