Every shard reflects the world a little differently. The trick is deciding which one to keep.
The truth is just ink on paper. I use better ink.
I don’t wear masks to lie, darling—I wear them to tell the truth more safely.
Every stew’s a story. You just have to simmer it long enough to tell it right.
Underbough Soles is a warm and welcoming cobbler’s shop nestled along the cobbled main road, its rounded workshop framed with finely carved woodwork and shelves brimming with shoes, boots, and sandals of every kind.
The Wayfinder’s Coil is a refined yet adventurous establishment, its polished wood floors and precisely placed furniture betraying the obsessive order of its owner, Minessa Vellwind.
The Broadbeam Timber Yard is a bustling workshop of sawdust and craftsmanship, where the scent of freshly cut pine mingles with the faint tang of linseed oil.
The Silent Line is a place where the written word becomes art, and every brushstroke carries weight.
Set within thick stone walls and timber-framed charm, this dwarven-run taproom is both rustic and refined.
Not all curses are shouted or scrawled in blood. Some are stitched into thread, woven with malice, and wait patiently… beneath your boots.
From the stone it watches—not with rage, but with purpose. The stalagmite was not there yesterday. Now it waits, tendrils twitching with hunger and something older still: memory.
It clings to walls, ceilings, and the scent of ancient death. Vlekkth is not a creature you see—it’s the thing that sees you melt from above.