"W moich snach widziałem małą sarnę jedzącą len. To było dla mnie niezwykłe, bo dlaczego?" - K3A

Loosely translated to English:

In my dreams I saw a small roe deer eating flax. It was unusual to me because why this?

Before you is a beautiful world, a simulation of resplendent depth, interrupted by the dying breath of a Coremind. Kaythria, a young Archivist embodiment of the Machine God, T'kal'akt. A vast, expansive, deep simulation to keep the dermadwellers at peace while the journey to fight at the next Stargod incursion is being made. Such things are never easy to predict, and the simulation changes.

Sarna Len is a science-fantasy "points-of-light" setting with a strong pseudo-Medieval theme. It is a cross-worlds where its citizens huddle within high-walled metropolises, but do infrequently travel into an ever-renewed wilderness where monsters, aberrant hordes, and chaotic godclouds roam. After several thousand years of warfare, nothing ever seems to change. Or, sometimes, a little too much.

What was once a simulation of 15th Century Europe has devolved into something else. The various xenospecies of Sarna Len, including Humaniki, such as we Earth-born humans and our genetically engineered offspring, are competing for power and resources against the other sophont species gathered from other worlds. As a result, the vaguely Earth-like environs are giving way to environs from other worlds, in a sort of dream-like manner. Turn a corner and it may no longer be the forests of some European baron, but instead the life-threatening toxic swamps of Dyuraisdor, the lively marshes of Gnoash, or the harsh deserts and lava-runs of Tokom.

Even among we Humaniks, we Draufs, we Alefs, we Humans of all strains; we know that magic is powerful and can do and build many wondrous things. Why does reality shift so strange? Why is it that our Deities destroy at whim what we have wrought? Why does civilization huddle in cities and towns populated in the tens-of-thousands? Is it the Red Offal? Those godclouds of millennia past? Do they still live and rend reality to their whim?

As movers and shakers, the players control adventuring parties of warriors, spellcasters, and rogues crazy enough to explore the world of Sarna Len, across the face of Sondgara the continent, in hopes of acquiring answers. Or at the very least acquiring wealth and power, so that they may sit idle until their remaining days if the answers are too disturbing to accept.

However, it all comes with a cost. Everything is corrupted. Learning magic is corrupted. Exploring the world outside of the great safety of the cities and towns is to be at risk of corruption. Even praying to the gods, the "Deities", for aide and comfort puts a believer at risk of further corruption. Using magic, here "Mustrum" or "mana", poisons our blood with microdoses of radiation, mutating our physical forms with blackstone particulates. Woe to the corrupted. They become akin to the Undying. They become in synchronicity with the Great Maze of the Underworld, listening to a silent but deep voice of its lord. Perhaps it is the Red King, alive after all these years. 

Regardless, when the next mazemouth appears, will it be you that enters it to join your brethren from before you?