In the days when the shadows whispered more deeply and the wind sang with the voices of the old, there existed an ancient temple, shrouded in vines and the weight of time. This temple lay forgotten, nestled in the heart of a slumbering forest, where the trees were so tall and thick, they seemed to … Read more
At the edge of the Endworld’s map, where old parchment ceases to be reliable, and where cartographers shake their heads and sigh, is the Fire Mountain. It stands alone against a backdrop of eternal night, the sky only occasionally flickering in shades of stormy purple and somber orange. The locals call it Olk’Syr—roughly translating to … Read more
In the molten depths of the world, where the earth whispers secrets of fire, there lived the last dwarf named Durin. His home was built in the shadow of a rumbling volcano, where lava flowed like the rivers of yore and the stones were always warm to the touch. Durin was not just a dwarf; … Read more
In the tangled underbelly of a lost civilization, where columns lay like the fallen boughs of ancient trees and the sun barely whispered through the persistent fog, there lay the Labyrinth of Tharsis. It was not a labyrinth as humans think, with hedges and mincing stone paths, but rather a crumbling city, pathways choked with … Read more
Deep in the cradle of the Felhorn Mountains, buried beneath hallowed ground and twisted thorns, throbbed the Stone Heart. Not flesh, not blood, but ancient stone aglow with dusk’s deepest carmine—a hum vibrated through the cavernous ribs of the mountain, almost a whisper, almost a pulse. The heart held secrets and sang silent songs, causing … Read more
The old ocean whispered secrets, languid breaths stirring from beneath, as three adventurers plunged through the clandestine azure veil. Their silhouettes, shrouded in grim determination, broke the surface of the waters that circled around the mythic Spires of the Sunken. Eris, the leader, borne of sailors and seers, her eyes, like storm-lit horizons, spoke of … Read more
In the heart of the Ortega Desert, where the sun’s unforgiving rays had bleached stones to bone white and the air purred with heat like a living thing, there is a field unlike any other. It is said that the gods themselves, in a moment of revelry or wrath, spilled their marbles across the sand. … Read more