The Wretch

Far beneath the city of Narcosa and sealed away by Castle Tryst is the Dungeon of many names. A bottomless expanse of ruins and sepulchers drenched in shadow. Palaces and temples of a prior age are merely a prelude to the labyrinth of prehistory. To delve too deeply is to embrace madness, as not even the Dungeon itself remembers the past clearly. Things long dead yet live, things bleed that should not breath, the past itself reemerges from the walls. The Dungeon, for those privy to this forbidden knowledge, is itself alive. The Dungeon remembers what once was, a mangled dream of all that has occupied its space. The memories that manifest into violent monsters are simply known as Wretches. The curse that plagues Wretches is called the Weld, blurring the line between the truth and what appears to be. A proud knight in a suit of armor fused to their platemail, their hand unable to drop their sword for they are one and the same. The Weld, as is horrifically known to those of Castle Tryst, is very much contagious and those afflicted must be disposed of without hesitation.