At the end of time lie the Endless Pools, an umbra where the haunted spirits of rudderless souls meander, seeking that which lies just beyond their reach. It is a world caught in the fading light of night before the coming dawn. A realm of shadows, mists, darkness; a gloaming that few enter willingly. Beneath the gloom lies a bog of dull colored sphagnum and wilted sedge grass. The spongy ground gives way to deep pools of infinite black where the detritus of past growth entangles the unwary, pulling them beneath the oily waters. Time spills into this darkling realm like tar falling from on high, spreading slowly, seeping into the vagaries of beclouded shadows.
Here the common dead find a home, those who in life cast off the purpose of normal men and lived to no gain or loss; those whose life had no meaning, great or small. Judged unworthy of the Stone Fields, but not cursed to the Wretched Plains, they came here to the Endless Pools and forgot who they were. They wander through the clinging bogs, lost in shades of gray light and dim mists that cloud the vision. They have little mind of who they were, only faded memories and thoughts of things missed. Sages call it “Where memories lie” for good reason.
~ From the Adventurers Spellbook
Art by: Zdzislaw Beksinski