"It’s not the venom that kills you—it’s not knowing who gave it to you."
"I do not paint what is. I paint what waits to be seen."
"The stars don’t lie. They just don’t explain themselves, either."
"If a stone falls, I lift it. If a wall breaks, I rebuild it. That’s how the world keeps going."
"You can tell what a creature feared by how its hide grew thick. I honor that."
A self-crowned “king” has taken over a cluster of farming villages. Bork, a grotesquely bloated hill giant with a crown made from a dented iron cauldron, now rules from a half-destroyed barn surrounded by shattered furniture, terrified peasants, and mountains of food-stained bones.
Deep within the half-collapsed mine shafts of Crestview Ridge, there waits a silent horror among the broken statues. Its breath smells of limestone dust, and its gullet grinds stone to meat. Locals call it Stonejaw—a basilisk so old its scales have begun to fossilize.
It feeds. Always. Slowly, inevitably. Even stone yields to the hunger. Gorthlax is no mindless blob—at least not anymore. A spawn of Juiblex touched by the demon lord’s will, it has grown vast and terrible, residing in the sunken heart of a ruined temple forgotten even by the gods.
On mist-laced nights, when the wind carries a chill unearned, travelers in Evenfall speak of a spectral voice singing on the breeze—haunting, wordless, and mournfully exquisite. Those who follow it never return… or return changed, whispering her name: Serelthia.
Known to locals as Gnashburrow, this unusually large and aggressive ankheg has become a subterranean terror beneath the Verdure Meadows, ripping up crops, devouring livestock, and tunneling so close to homes that entire buildings have collapsed into the earth.
A stone never lies. But it does take finesse to get it to speak.
Every shard reflects the world a little differently. The trick is deciding which one to keep.