>>96332747
>Beneath a brazen desert sky lies Qabḍat al-Rabb, the City of the Divine Grip. It is a sprawling metropolis built along the pale, outstretched hand of a long-dead god, half-buried in the sun-scorched dunes. A city of towering cathedrals, lavish manor-houses, and sun-bleached market tents. Deep below, in perfumed catacombs tunneled through the corpse's celestial sinews, miners extract ichor; the luminous, golden fluid that seeps from still-living veins within the divine cadaver. This ichor, volatile and sacred, has transformed Qabḍat al-Rabb into a city of alchemists, merchants, and mad prophets. The wealthy bathe in diluted drops for eternal youth, while the desperate drink it raw, dreaming of visions and waking gods.