Headsrest

The elect must travel to the nadir point — a location where the seed of all potentiality rests inside an exitless dust-trap that grows withered buildings the way a tree grows branches. This place is the resting point of all rot, a sanctum to evolution's worst failures, a burial ground for dying worlds and the malformed things that lived in them. A transdimensional tuner is the only tool capable of bridging the tears that run through reality's worn fabric along the route. The sensory expansion that comes with accessing higher planes is not without its dangers. Free the hostage angels. Pray for your enemies. Recruit from the fallen. Fight to preserve whatever sense of self remains as you dimension-hop through blind alleys toward the beginning of that which has no end.