Murder Gardens

Murder Gardens is the district of Harbormarch where the neighborhood forgot how to stay dead. In outline the old blocks survive, streets and foundations and broken courtyards, but everything inside that frame has warped. At its center a morgue has swollen to the footprint of an entire city block, and the doorway into the Mortis Amaranthine no longer behaves like a sealed crossing. It pulses through the streets instead. Near the core, flesh and blood weep up through the pavement, the air turns colder than the season should allow, and walls sweat with no rain to blame. The place, as the hunters put it, smells active rather than merely foul.
  The dead here do not behave. Lower-threat corpses like Shamblers refuse to disperse; they gather and cluster as though the center pulls at them, growing dangerous by sheer accumulation until the outermost ranks spill outward in wave events that sweep toward the neighboring blocks. The worse threats slip out on their own, unpredictable and untethered. Because the district still works as a morgue, people keep returning to life inside it, and much of the labor here is carving temporary lanes through a wall of undead just to drag the newly reborn out before the crowd tears them apart.
  Harbormarch cannot erase Murder Gardens, and it cannot afford to lose it. Left to deteriorate, the whole mass could tip into a corrupted morgue, a catastrophe that would be regional rather than local. So three bodies hold the line. The Ossuary Society reads the threat and escorts the returned; the Blacktide Hunters bleed against the crowd; and the Wells Society builds the barricades and burn lanes that keep the disaster contained. At the heart of that effort sits Shamgrala, the fortified tiki bar and armory where the two orders stage their work.