The Knight of Decay

The day began with an eerie stillness, the kind that settles before a storm. The lower ring of Lotringen, now transformed by Plaga’s influence, stood as a testament to her power. Blackened vines curled around buildings, their pulsing veins a stark contrast to the vibrant life they now sustained. The once-crumbling homes were fortified, the fountains flowed freely, and the people moved with a sense of purpose. But today, there was an air of anticipation—something monumental was about to unfold.

Plaga had summoned them all, her whispers reaching every corner of the lower ring. The afflicted, the downtrodden, the newly empowered—all gathered in the central square, their glowing eyes fixed on the makeshift stage that had been constructed overnight. Above, the spires of the middle rings and the Inner Sanctum loomed, their inhabitants watching in uneasy silence as the strange spectacle unfolded below.