The Bacchanalia is the domain of The Reveler. It is a labyrinthine world of ceaseless, intestinal corridors overflowing with exquisite food, alcohol, drugs, and other pleasures of the flesh. A never-ending and concentric spiral, it is littered with tables and arenas and baths, in the fashion of an extremely decrepit, ancient city.
Mortals and satyrs who have given themselves to the darkest aspects of addiction find themselves trapped here, in a world of never-ending indulgence. It may sound ideal at first, but the Bacchanalia is still a very dark place. Uneaten food rots openly on the table, but the revelers are too frenzied to notice, forcing it into their craving mouths despite the foul taste. Wine and blood coat the flagstones in a gritty slickness that froths into a revolting foam. Drunken mortals fight each other in frenzied blasts of violence, leaving the corpses of their opponents to decompose or be eaten by the starving revelers. Drugs so powerful they cause their victims to see horrifying visions cause people to crush their own eyes in their sockets or choke on their own panic. Presiding over this chaos, in a throne of gilt and ivory, The Reveler sips from his cornucopia and licks his lips, feeding off the degradation around him, growing stronger in his web of mortal pleasures and irresistible temptations.