The Gray Rot

The Gray Rot is by far the deadliest contagion in the history of Yrdde. Emanating from some unknown location far to the north of the Imperial Frontier, it claimed the lives of scouting teams, wandering adventurer parties, and lost trade caravans before spreading south. When it struck the mining community of Ironcliff, the Empire finally reacted in force. Through immense effort and cost the Empire has managed to prevent the spread of this unknown illness into other occupied lands, but many scholars and healers believe it's only a matter of time before an infected individual slips through the blockades.

History

In Ironcliff, the sprawling mining colony carved into the mountainsides of the northern frontier – a place of sweat, grime, and the relentless pursuit of Yrddestones, where rumors began to spread amongst the miners – tales of a strange illness spreading through the lower levels of the mines, men struck with a chilling cold, their eyes becoming clouded, their behavior erratic. Overseers dismissed these whispers as fatigue or superstition, the ramblings of men toiling too long in the darkness.
But the rumors persisted. Whispers turned into screams as miners succumbed to the mysterious affliction. Those who died, however, didn't stay dead. They rose again, their bodies twisted, their eyes glowing with an unnatural light, attacking their fellow workers with a ferocious strength and a chilling lack of emotion.
The news reached Aetheris, carried by panicked reports and frantic pleas for help. A contingent of Arbiters, accompanied by a team of healers and researchers from the College of Imperial Arcana, was dispatched to investigate. The team took a cautious approach once they arrived, a choice that saved them and possibly the entirety of Yrdde. The leadership of Ironcliff communicated with them over radio, claiming that the entire thing was a miscommunication, offered to send a team of healers from the city to provide further evidence.
Upon arriving in Ironcliff, the Arbiters found not simply a medical crisis, but a nightmare unfolding. The lower levels of the mine swarmed with the reanimated corpses of miners – their flesh pallid, their movements jerky and unnatural, their eyes burning with a cold silver fire. The overseers, desperate to contain the outbreak, had sealed off the lower shafts, but the creatures, undeterred, were finding ways to break through, tunneling through the rock bare-handed with complete disregard for their own bodies.
The Arbiters, trained in the swift execution of justice, unleashed a torrent of magitech weaponry – arcane bolts scorching flesh, and blades imbued with runes disintegrating corpses. But the creatures seemed unfazed by pain or injury, their numbers growing with each fallen worker, their attacks driven by a cold, single-minded purpose.
The initial containment effort eventually succeeded, at a terrible cost. The entire lower level of the Ironcliff mine was collapsed, burying the reanimated workers and sacrificing countless tons of precious yrddestones in a desperate attempt to stop the spread of the blight. As the last rocks began to settle, however, the Overseers attacked.
The Arbiter team fell back to their airship, suffering heavy casualties. Whatever had consumed the miners had spread throughout the city, but these new victims bore no visible injury or sign of infection. They could talk, reason, and act like any normal sentient being, and their memories seemed fully intact.
The containment team, safe within their sealed airship, considered their options. The infected couldn't board the ship without sending a coded signal, so they could hold their position until reinforcements could arrive. The surviving Arbiters were about to radio for assistance when their fallen comrades, left dead in the city below, approached the vessel and attempted to board it.
The remaining Arbiters fired the vessel's weaponry point-blank into the port, then took to the air and meticulously shelled the city itself, firing at any moving object until their yrddestone generator was nearly spent. No living being has entered the city since, and a permanent blockade has surrounded the entire territory, preventing anything from getting in or out.
It is said, however, that a few radios in Ironcliff still function, and someone is sending out cries for help. These requests shift from day to day, changing words, phrasing, and identities, as if whatever is still living within the city is testing the men standing guard just beyond its border.

Symptoms and Stages

Days 1-7

Early symptoms are often mistaken for a common cold or a lingering touch of exhaustion - a cruel deception that allows the infection to quietly take hold before its true nature is revealed.
The most distinctive initial symptom is a sudden, intense chill, a coldness that emanates from within, as if the victim's very core is frozen. This unnatural cold persists, resisting attempts to warm the body with blankets or fires.
This is followed by a deep, bone-aching tiredness. Ordinary tasks feel insurmountable, and even basic movements require Herculean effort. Rest provides no relief.
Then a relentless hunger gnaws at them. No amount of food can sate it, and the consumed nourishment seems to vanish, leaving the victim gaunt and weakened despite their attempts to replenish their body's reserves.
Finally, a subtle change occurs in the eyes. The pupils dilate and the irises subtly darken, hints of silver flecks appearing, like tiny shards of ice catching the light.

Days 7-9

As the body begins to fail, skin loses its warmth and becomes ashen grey, hair thins and turns white, muscles atrophy despite the victim's attempts to eat.
The victim's eyes turn a solid silver, the human gaze replaced by an icy, inhuman glint. The victim's speech becomes minimal, their movements often jerky and unnatural.
The infected individual now seeks out other sentient beings. A bite or a scratch, even a simple touch, can spread the infection.
Should the victim succumb to their physical decline, their body appears to die. But within minutes, sometimes hours, it rises again, fully healed, the unnatural silver glow emanating from their eyes the only remaining proof of any infection having taken place.

Imperial Report: The Gray Rot - Analysis and Recommendations
To: His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Lucius Thorne
From: Dr. Aemilia Volkov, Imperial Medical Society
Subject: Analysis of Contagion
My Emperor,
I submit this report with a heavy heart, for the subject matter chills even those of us accustomed to the ills that plague flesh and bone. The “Gray Rot,” as it’s known to the public, represents a threat unlike any other – a silent insidious corruption, a disease not of the body but of the very essence of the soul.
Current Understanding:
Based upon our investigations, observations of the afflicted, and analysis of tissue samples recovered from containment zones, here is what we currently understand (or suspect) about this blight:
Transmission: It spreads through physical contact with bodily fluids – a bite, a scratch, even a lingering touch from one who’s succumbed to the final stage of the infection. The rate of transmission is alarmingly swift. Once introduced into the bloodstream, it quickly overcomes the body's natural defenses.
Progression: The affliction's progression follows three distinct phases – a chilling of the body's core temperature, followed by a gradual degradation of mental function, and culminating in a complete loss of self and the ████████████ of the body by an unknown, seemingly malevolent force. (Details included in accompanying files)
Resistance: The Rot appears resistant to conventional treatments. Alchemical remedies and healing spells of varying potency have been largely ineffective. While some temporary alleviation of symptoms can be achieved, they do not address the underlying cause of the corruption. If the infection does spread through physical interaction, it may be possible to halt the spread through the rapid removal of infected flesh, but this hypothesis has yet to be tested.
Areas of Concern:
My Emperor, the true nature of the Gray Rot, its origins and purpose, remain shrouded in a disquieting ambiguity. There are whispers, of course, rumors that link the affliction to ancient curses, rogue magitech experiments, or even divine retribution for humanity's arrogance in seeking to control the Aetherial Flow. But we, as servants of reason and logic, must rely upon demonstrable evidence.
However, there are troubling similarities between the documented symptoms and behaviors of the afflicted, and those described in certain texts – specifically, accounts of an entity █████☰██████ █████ █████████ shadow and consuming hunger who is said to have possessed the ability to absorb the souls of its victims. There is no physical evidence to support these stories, however I do find it unsettling how close the ████████████ matches what we understand so far.
Recommendations:
This theory, though disturbing, demands further investigation. I implore you, Your Imperial Majesty, to grant us the resources and access to any relevant historical records – particularly artifacts and research notes related to the Old-World and its destruction - that might shed light on this connection.
Furthermore, I recommend a complete quarantine of any territory or community where even the faintest whisper of the Rot emerges. While containment is vital, so too is gathering knowledge. Dedicated research facilities must be established, equipped with technology capable of monitoring aetherial fluctuations and dissecting the effects of the affliction.
Finally, we must remain vigilant, observing for any potential links between the Rot's appearances and other unexplained phenomena— magical storms, creature infestations, and rumors of hidden cults worshiping ancient entities. This may be a battle not simply against a disease of flesh and blood, but against a darkness that could unravel the very foundations of our world.
I await your guidance, Your Majesty, and remain dedicated to serving your will and the preservation of our Empire.
With unwavering loyalty,
Dr. Aemilia Volkov
Imperial Medical Society