I don't actually hate the story of Hattan, of a city proper in the heart of the Bowl. The blasted lands. Of a city so greedy, so corrupt, that the land itself rejected them, or was turned evil by the taint of their presence. Of a city wiped so thoroughly off the earth, that only their graveyard remains.
Three levels of underground catacombs, with fissures that lead deep into the morlock-infested world which we live upon.
A fence of black iron, worked in with wards and meant to hold in the worst of things that gathered around the dead. A fence now broken in the northwest corner, letting pure Death out into the world.
About which, I could do nothing in my past life. When I was stronger in magic than I now was.
[Type: Magical Creature.] my System insisted.