From the outside, Zarnack looks plain: sandstone walls, unimpressive towers. But step within, and it becomes feverish—a labyrinth of silks, incense, spice, and smoke. Palaces sag with cushions, harems writhe in chains, equine dancers sway their hips in opium haze. Every appetite is for sale: sexual, violent, chemical, or spiritual.
The true body of Zarnack lies beneath. The Underdens stretch twice as deep as the city climbs, a warren of tunnels and chambers teeming with hyenas in their millions. Thieves, assassins, poisoners, courtesans, gangs rutting in heaps—the Underdens are Zarnack stripped of illusion, raw and ravenous. To conquer Zarnack is impossible: the surface lures, the depths devour.