Everything Crumbles
Location: Quasi-Elemental Dust / Oasis of Filth / Everything Crumbles
Realm of Alu-Akkad, demipower of the disintegration of social institutions
Everything Crumbles, Alu-Akkad’s realm in the Plane of Dust, is a paradoxical place of grandeur and decay. Imagine, cutter, a sprawling wasteland where the air weighs heavy with the scent of forgotten ambition. The atmosphere is an endless haze of dust, the ground littered with debris and cast-off rubbish. Yet, amidst this desolation rises a city—or what’s left of one. Vast structures loom half-buried in dunes of fine, choking grit: banks with their vaults yawning open like broken jaws, palaces whose spires lean drunkenly as though they’ve given up on reaching the heavens, and temples where no prayers have been whispered in centuries. The architecture is grand but crumbling, a testament to systems that once thrived but now exist only as hollow shells.
The sounds of this place are unnerving in their subtlety. There’s no wind here, no howling gusts to carry the dust; instead, there’s a constant whispering—a dry rasping that seems to come from the buildings themselves. Listen closely, and you might swear you hear voices murmuring half-forgotten rituals or bureaucratic jargon that no longer means anything, if it even ever did. Occasionally, there’s the sad groan of a collapsing structure or the faint tinkling of falling debris, like a dirge being played by smashing windows. It’s a quiet chaos, the kind that seeps into your bones and makes you question whether you’re hearing things or if the realm itself is alive and mocking you.
Everything Crumbles isn’t just about physical decay; it’s a crucible for mental erosion as well. Visitors quickly find their minds unraveling in subtle ways. Skills they’ve relied on for years seem to slip through their fingers like sand—words vanish from memory mid-sentence, and even basic social instincts feel alien. It’s as though Alu-Akkad himself is reaching into your mind, plucking out the threads that hold your identity together just to watch how you squirm without them. And yet, there’s a strange allure to this place for those who hate order and crave entropy. Revolutionaries, anarchists, and saboteurs come here seeking inspiration—or perhaps validation—that all systems are doomed to fail.
The philosophy of Everything Crumbles is woven into its decaying fabric: nothing lasts forever. Alu-Akkad revels in the inevitability of collapse, not out of malice but out of fascination. He doesn’t destroy for destruction’s sake; he simply removes the keystones from towering edifices and watches as they crumble under their own weight. To him, it’s not tragedy but art—the beauty of impermanence made manifest. Those who seek his aid often find themselves caught in this paradox: he’ll grant them tools to dismantle oppressive systems but at the cost of their own stability. His lessons are harsh but inevitable: every empire falls, every institution rots from within, and every revolution eventually eats its own tail.
The heart of the burg is a surreal spectacle: a literal oasis surrounded by filth—a beautiful pool of water so clear it almost hurts to look at, bordered by dunes of waste and debris. This water is said to hold visions for those brave enough to drink it: glimpses of systems breaking down across the multiverse, and prophecies of when each will collapse. Some see kingdoms falling into ruin; others see their own minds unraveling thread by thread. Alu-Akkad himself manifests here occasionally, appearing as a robed figure with a torn hat perched jauntily on his head—a symbol of authority undone. His laughter echoes like dry leaves skittering across stone as he offers cryptic and double-edged advice to those who dare approach him.
Ultimately, Everything Crumbles is less realm and more an experience—a slow unmaking that forces visitors to confront the fragility of everything they hold dear. It’s not just buildings or skills that fall apart here; it’s belief itself. Faith in systems, in order, even in oneself—all are tested and all found wanting under Alu-Akkad’s indifferent gaze. And yet, for those who embrace this chaos rather than fear it, there’s a strange liberation to be found. After all, when everything crumbles, what’s left but possibility?
[Suggested realm effect: Every subjective hour spent in Everything Crumbles, everyone must make a save vs. spell or risk losing a random social proficiency or skill: this can even include language skills. Lost proficiencies can usually be remembered within a few weeks, with a little training.]
Source: Jon Winter-Holt and Lane Ripley
