Ravenbreath

The Madness Below - Ravenbreath

The Hands That Build

From stone to steel, field to forge—without them, castles would crumble, cities would starve, and kings would rule over dust.

No Songs, No Glory

Their names do not fill ballads, nor their deeds grace history’s pages. Yet without their unseen efforts, there would be no legends at all

Flicker in the Dark

Light and laughter aren’t just for the innocent they’re weapons against the abyss but when the darkness fights back, will courage be enough?

3
Lineages
1
Townie
2
Heirlooms
12
Species
32
Fables

The Madness Below: Secrets Wrapped in Screams

Smuggler’s Cove is loud, lawless, and full of things best left unsaid. Which is exactly why he fits in. He scurries between ships and shadows, laughing when others run, collecting stories like teeth in a jar. Most dismiss him as a nuisance. Some call him a prophet. But all know this: when Toby Talc starts whispering about things in the fog and deals made with ash and fire—you should listen.

Because he’s seen something. Something no one should’ve. And while he might not remember it straight, it remembers him. He speaks of the Accord, of tunnels beneath the Cove, of crates that hum when touched and names that burn when spoken.

You could ignore him. Many do. But when the screaming starts—when the wrong shipment goes missing or the crew vanishes without a trace—you might wish you’d paid closer attention. Because Toby doesn’t just know where the bodies are buried. He might’ve helped bury them.

Smuggler’s Cove Image

Smuggler’s Cove 

Toby

"Payment first." The figure leans against a crate, fingers drumming on the damp wood. "You don’t trust me?" A smirk, the flicker of firelight against salt-worn faces. "Not in the slightest." The pouch is tossed, caught, weighed with a knowing glance. A nod. The deal is struck. In the cove, business is simple—pay, trade, survive.

Toby Talc 

Tinka

He popped up behind the crates like a jack-in-the-box made of knives and nightmares. "Did you hear it?" he whispered, eyes wide. "The whispering in the bottles? No?" He laughed once, sharp and high. "Then you’re not listening right." He licked his finger, held it to the air. "Yup. Trouble’s coming. Tastes like teeth."

Toby Talc Image

He laughs at the dark—because he’s already spoken to what’s inside it.