Within the scarred landscape and under the eternally tumultuous sky of Abaddon lies the uncharacteristically exquisite beauty of the Mere of Broken Angels. The simple, calm lake of crystal-clear water seems out of place amid the otherwise desolate land, but the secret terror it holds beneath its surface befits its setting. A person standing near the mere cannot help but hear the sounds of hundreds of fists pounding upon the underside of the lake's surface, as though it were frozen over. These frantic captives are countless drowning angels, who sink to the bone-strewn bottom of the mere upon dying, only to be magically resurrected shortly thereafter to begin their torment anew. Who these angelic beings were prior to their torturous existence below the surface of the Mere of Broken Angels is a secret now lost to time.
The only blemish upon the lake's surface is a small island within viewing distance from the shore. Upon this island is the massive print of a clawed reptilian hand or foot, dozens of feet across. Within this terrible indentation are scrawled hundreds of lines of an unreadable script that bears a strange resemblance to Abyssal. Reaching this island is no simple task, however, as all methods both magical or mundane—swimming, flying, and teleportation—result in any non-daemon being pulled beneath the surface of the mere, suffering the same eternal fate as the drowning celestials imprisoned within.1