When a colossal beast falls, death does not signify the end of everything.
Lingering vitality often survives within the warm confines of the corpse, living on in another form, or perhaps continuing.
Deep within the Gondor Empire, chaotic and dry winds carry dust as they whistle across the plains. In a chaotic sky, murky clouds spiral and twist like an upside-down funnel, gloomily covering the land. Pulses of energy leap between the swirling clouds, continually discharging kilometers-long arcs of electricity and rumbling thunder, and beneath this frightening atmospheric phenomenon lies the molten and torn imperial capital wasteland.
