- Pronoun
- they or she
When an adventurer descends into cracks in the world-skin, they must surely have courage, to hold their nerve in the darkest places. Volition, too, to press on when wisdom would have them turn back – whether thirst for knowledge or a covetous heart be their motivation. Above all, a tether to the living world, for without something to call them back, how then could their soul find its way home?
The most esoteric of the regional dungeons, and certainly the most obscure, Whispering Comb lies in the hills to the south of Novelux. It could plausibly have been a natural dungeon, once. The rift's shallower floors are a lattice of caves, marked by calcite fins and 'boxwork' lattices of stone in honeycomb-like patterns – these grow more organic as one ventures further. Yet-deeper caves, lightless and cold, are filled with whispering sounds that could well be just the wind, but are said by the superstitious to be the voices of ghosts, or even of the dungeon itself. Those interlopers who return from beyond this point report being toyed with by the rift, turned around by wildly volatile floorplans, experiencing horrific hallucinations, or worse.
The 'mon of the Taleska Nation speak of 'comb whispers' as a curse – by this they mean anything from bad advice, to sour rumours, intrusive thoughts, or even auditory hallucinations. Their folklore instructs visitors to enter strictly in pairs, if they enter at all.
The most esoteric of the regional dungeons, and certainly the most obscure, Whispering Comb lies in the hills to the south of Novelux. It could plausibly have been a natural dungeon, once. The rift's shallower floors are a lattice of caves, marked by calcite fins and 'boxwork' lattices of stone in honeycomb-like patterns – these grow more organic as one ventures further. Yet-deeper caves, lightless and cold, are filled with whispering sounds that could well be just the wind, but are said by the superstitious to be the voices of ghosts, or even of the dungeon itself. Those interlopers who return from beyond this point report being toyed with by the rift, turned around by wildly volatile floorplans, experiencing horrific hallucinations, or worse.
The 'mon of the Taleska Nation speak of 'comb whispers' as a curse – by this they mean anything from bad advice, to sour rumours, intrusive thoughts, or even auditory hallucinations. Their folklore instructs visitors to enter strictly in pairs, if they enter at all.
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