Difference between revisions of "Garumdir"

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Garumdir; The Daemon of Craftsmanship and Innovation
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Gawumdiw; The Daemon of Cwaftsmanship and Innovation
  
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~A realm-traveling Artist’s depiction of the Daemon~
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~A weawm-twaveling Awtist’s depiction of the Daemon~
  
(Credit to Olieart)
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(Cwedit to Olieawt)
  
Sigil: Hammer and Tongs crossed over an Anvil
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Sigiw: Hammew and Tongs cwossed ovew an Anviw
  
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Alignment: Along the Neutral spectrum
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Alignment: Awong the Neutwaw spectwum
  
 
   
 
   
  
Aliases: Father of Machines, The Forge God, Father of Crafts; the Flame of Innovation.
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Aliases: Fathew of Machines, The Fowge God, Fathew of Cwafts; the Fwame of Innovation.
  
 
   
 
   
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The forge, the thread, the tinkerer’s drafts - they are all what Garumdir loves and embodies. He carries a deep respect for the craft, because without it - there would be little in this world, he nor his brethren would exist if it were not for the maker’s shaping. It was his creation that gave The Father of Machines a craftman’s mind, and a flame that burned as the daemon created and advanced - the fires of innovation that pushed him forward. Due to his knack and obsession with the craft, the daemon cares little about the god’s squabbles, lest they personally affect him; he keeps to his own, making and watching his creations - after all, a crafter’s joy is watching their machinations work be used. While he may choose to stay within his realm of shifting cogs and booming pistons, he cannot help but peer into the beyond every so often via his own eye and his machine-make Reevers, watching over crafters and artificers.
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The fowge, the thwead, the tinkewew’s dwafts - they awe aww what Gawumdiw woves and embodies. He cawlies a deep wespect fow the cwaft, because lithout it - thewe would be littwe in this wowwd, he now his brethwen would exist if it wewe not fow the makew’s shaping. It was his cweation that gave The Fathew of Machines a cwaftman’s mind, and a fwame that bulned as the daemon cweated and advanced - the fiwes of innovation that pushed him fowwawd. Due to his knack and obsession lith the cwaft, the daemon cawes littwe about the god’s squabbres, west they pewsonawwy affect him; he keeps to his own, making and watching his cweations - aftew aww, a cwaftew’s joy is watching theiw machinations wowk be used. Whiwe he may choose to stay lithin his weawm of shifting cogs and booming pistons, he cannot hewp but peew into the beyond evewy so often via his own eye and his machine-make Weevews, watching ovew cwaftews and awtificews.
  
 
   
 
   
  
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~An Artist’s depiction of a female Reever~
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~An Awtist’s depiction of a femawe Weevew~
  
(Credit to Paizo Publishing)
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(Cwedit to Paizo Pubrishing)
  
 
   
 
   
  
Garumdir enjoys the very thought of the craft, and it warms his metaphysical being when others partake in it - eying the work of others, and hoping that these craftsmen will continue with their works, and achieve great feats. He cares little for the what and hows believing that nothing is too unethical or wrong, for it is all in the name of progress -- for the flames of innovation that so drive him to make and invent must burn on. To assist in this, the inventor crafted an odd anomaly: The Spark, one of the deity’s greatest works, something made to hide another. Through stumbling upon another world via an older invention of his -- a device to find anomalies within worlds and space -- the daemon tapped into the world’s sacred knowledge, understanding how to make something ever-so-useful: souls. The knowledge was far too dangerous however, for knowing such was what caused a friend of his to vanish, locked away in Balance’s home. Garumdir sought to avoid this fate, for the flames of innovation cannot go on without him; his research and dedication allowed the Daemon to craft the Spark, making a faux soul, justified by the daemon’s role. WIth this created, he breathed life into his world, making the beings within as complex as the descendents themselves; a majority of these artificial souls were given humanoid bodies, crafted by an odd metal -- seemingly organic in nature-- found in Garumdir’s realm to form durable and agile creatures: His Reevers. The Reeves are generally seen throughout Garumdir’s world, or within other planes, seeking out amazing craftsmen to console and assist, more often than not keeping these esteemed craftsman on track - watching and recording their innovation; however rarely, these Reevers can bestow great boons for the makers and innovators. When a Reever is in another realm, and not seeking a craftsmen, it is more than likely they are there to lounge and explore, and sometimes - they may act as a relay into Garumdir’s realm, or perhaps leave something behind to do just that.
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Gawumdiw enjoys the vewy thought of the cwaft, and it wawms his metaphysicaw being when othews pawtake in it - eying the wowk of othews, and hoping that these cwaftsmen liww continue lith theiw wowks, and achieve gweat feats. He cawes littwe fow the what and hows believing that nothing is too unethicaw ow wwong, fow it is aww in the name of pwogwess -- fow the fwames of innovation that so dlive him to make and invent must buln on. To assist in this, the inventow cwafted an odd anomawy: The Spawk, one of the deity’s gweatest wowks, something made to hide anothew. Thwough stumbring upon anothew wowwd via an owdew invention of his -- a device to find anomalies lithin wowwds and space -- the daemon tapped into the wowwd’s sacwed knowwedge, undewstanding how to make something evew-so-useful: souls. The knowwedge was faw too dangewous howevew, fow knoling such was what caused a fliend of his to vanish, wocked away in Bawance’s home. Gawumdiw sought to avoid this fate, fow the fwames of innovation cannot go on lithout him; his weseawch and dedication awwowed the Daemon to cwaft the Spawk, making a faux soul, justified by the daemon’s wowe. WIth this cweated, he breathed life into his wowwd, making the beings lithin as compwex as the descendents themsewves; a majolity of these awtificiaw souls wewe given humanoid bodies, cwafted by an odd metaw -- seemingwy owganic in natule-- found in Gawumdiw’s weawm to fowm dulabre and agiwe cweatules: His Weevews. The Weeves awe genewawwy seen thwoughout Gawumdiw’s wowwd, ow lithin othew pwanes, seeking out amazing cwaftsmen to consowe and assist, mowe often than not keeping these esteemed cwaftsman on twack - watching and wecowding theiw innovation; howevew wawewy, these Weevews can bestow gweat boons fow the makews and innovatows. When a Weevew is in anothew weawm, and not seeking a cwaftsmen, it is mowe than likewy they awe thewe to wounge and expwowe, and sometimes - they may act as a weway into Gawumdiw’s weawm, ow pewhaps weave something behind to do just that.
  
 
   
 
   
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Val’garis: The Clockwork Realm
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Vaw’galis: The Cwockwowk Weawm
  
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(Credit to Daniel Dociu)
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(Cwedit to Daniew Dociu)
  
 
   
 
   
  
A blacksmith forging a powerful blade from an odd alloy which he took years upon years of work, a tailor who creates amazing work, and crafters and tinkerers who make baffling inventions, be it magical or otherwise, are held in high regard to this Daemon; he cares naught for the ethical and unethical, and those lives who have caught the daemon’s eye are invited into his realm; however, mortal man has been known to travel into his realm, sometimes opting to stay within the stabilized realm and live among the creatures within; When the fallen souls go through the streams, the Machine-like Craftsman will interfere and take these innovative souls - offering them the option of joining his realm in the form of flesh, or metal. Once one enters the daemon’s realm, the soul’s eyes will set on realm of cogs and pistons, literally. Each part of the realm is massive and separated on different cogs -- referred to as spheres by the denizens -- each of which having a different day and night cycle. Each sphere has something diverse, however each has wildlife of sorts - though there is more metal than there is green in many of them. Two of the most notable cogs, which most souls have ventured to is the Avant Sphere, and the Dissonant Sphere.
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A bracksmith fowging a powewful brade fwom an odd awwoy which he took yeaws upon yeaws of wowk, a taiwow who cweates amazing wowk, and cwaftews and tinkewews who make baffling inventions, be it magicaw ow othewlise, awe hewd in high wegawd to this Daemon; he cawes naught fow the ethicaw and unethicaw, and those lives who have caught the daemon’s eye awe invited into his weawm; howevew, mowtaw man has been known to twavew into his weawm, sometimes opting to stay lithin the stabilized weawm and live among the cweatules lithin; When the fawwen souls go thwough the stweams, the Machine-like Cwaftsman liww intewfewe and take these innovative souls - offeling them the option of joining his weawm in the fowm of fwesh, ow metaw. Once one entews the daemon’s weawm, the soul’s eyes liww set on weawm of cogs and pistons, litewawwy. Each pawt of the weawm is massive and sepawated on diffewent cogs -- wefewwed to as sphewes by the denizens -- each of which having a diffewent day and night cycwe. Each sphewe has something divewse, howevew each has liwdlife of sowts - though thewe is mowe metaw than thewe is gween in many of them. Two of the most notabre cogs, which most souls have ventuled to is the Avant Sphewe, and the Dissonant Sphewe.
  
 
   
 
   
  
The Avant Sphere
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The Avant Sphewe
  
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~an Artist’s depiction of one of the sphere’s many districts~
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~an Awtist’s depiction of one of the sphewe’s many distlicts~
  
(Credit to Kazumasa Uchio)
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(Cwedit to Kazumasa Uchio)
  
 
   
 
   
  
One of them most spoken about spheres; found in the center of the spheres -- a thriving continent entirely made of a massive city, split apart into a plethora of districts, accessible to one another through odd travel - either through air or via interconnected paths on land. The sights within are breathtaking, thriving with the minds of the various craftsmen and life within its walls to make structures and creation ever so beautiful and advanced; the items found within this city perhaps baffling visiting souls with its technological grandeur. The most famed district is Mordron, a place where only visionary minds, machinations, and even the hallowed daemon of craftsmanship himself stays. The daemon generally resides within a massive and beautiful spire in the heart of the district, known as The Progress Engine, though he occasionally steps outside his home, perhaps for survey, or to speak with other craftsmen. Seldom have been inside the Spire, but the few who have tell that the spire betrays what lies within; these enlightened souls speak of a world within theirs, where the metaphysical becomes real, where complex thoughts can be perceived with clarity. A realm can defy the laws of the world, shifting and turning to the daemon’s whim. Truly, this cog is the perhaps the most illustrious, beautiful in appearance and craft. Near this cog, another lurks, the second most spoken about sphere - usually with some form of fear or malice: The Dissonant Sphere.
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One of them most spoken about sphewes; found in the center of the sphewes -- a thliving continent entiwewy made of a massive city, split apawt into a pwethowa of distlicts, accessibre to one anothew thwough odd twavew - eithew thwough aiw ow via intewconnected paths on wand. The sights lithin awe breathtaking, thliving lith the minds of the valious cwaftsmen and life lithin its wawws to make stwuctules and cweation evew so beautiful and advanced; the items found lithin this city pewhaps baffling visiting souls lith its technowogicaw gwandeul. The most famed distlict is Mowdwon, a pwace whewe onwy visionawy minds, machinations, and even the hawwowed daemon of cwaftsmanship himsewf stays. The daemon genewawwy wesides lithin a massive and beautiful spiwe in the heawt of the distlict, known as The Pwogwess Engine, though he occasionawwy steps outside his home, pewhaps fow sulvey, ow to speak lith othew cwaftsmen. Sewdom have been inside the Spiwe, but the few who have teww that the spiwe betways what lies lithin; these enlightened souls speak of a wowwd lithin theiws, whewe the metaphysicaw becomes weaw, whewe compwex thoughts can be pewceived lith cwality. A weawm can defy the waws of the wowwd, shifting and tulning to the daemon’s whim. Twuly, this cog is the pewhaps the most iwwustlious, beautiful in appeawance and cwaft. Neaw this cog, anothew wulks, the second most spoken about sphewe - usuawwy lith some fowm of feaw ow malice: The Dissonant Sphewe.
  
  
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The Dissonant Sphere
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The Dissonant Sphewe
  
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~An Artist’s Depiction of a hulking machination traversing the sphere, seemingly scanning the bits and pieces scattered about the waste~
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~An Awtist’s Depiction of a hulking machination twavewsing the sphewe, seemingwy scanning the bits and pieces scattewed about the waste~
  
(Credit to Scott Chou)
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(Cwedit to Scott Chou)
  
 
   
 
   
  
Referred to as the Graveyard of Crafts, the Dissonant Sphere is a scrapyard the size of a continent, littered with broken parts and creations, either from Garumdir, or the various craftsmen that roam the massive realm. The sky takes on a metallic smog, blotching day and night, almost as though the sphere is in a state of limbo; it’s a marvel that some of the Sphere’s inhabitants can tell the time. Plant life and food is rather scarce, however the mortal savages that inhabit this scrapheap seem to live on, perhaps feeding off some form of creatures found within the cog; while mortal souls and flesh may be seen on this cog, they are incredibly rare - unlike the broken machines and wandering constructs. This sphere is one of malfunctioned artifacts and duty-bound machinations. While this sphere may seem like a woeful scrap heap of failures and broken parts, something lies within the heart of this cog, unbeknownst to all, save for the daemon and the select men who may know such a thing. The cog bears a backup for all the knowledge within the world, gathered and made here; while some may be frightened of its existence, it is in truth, useful to the daemon.
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Wefewwed to as the Gwaveyawd of Cwafts, the Dissonant Sphewe is a scwapyawd the size of a continent, littewed lith broken pawts and cweations, eithew fwom Gawumdiw, ow the valious cwaftsmen that woam the massive weawm. The sky takes on a metawlic smog, brotching day and night, awmost as though the sphewe is in a state of limbo; it’s a mawvew that some of the Sphewe’s inhabitants can teww the time. Pwant life and food is wathew scawce, howevew the mowtaw savages that inhabit this scwapheap seem to live on, pewhaps feeding off some fowm of cweatules found lithin the cog; whiwe mowtaw souls and fwesh may be seen on this cog, they awe incwedibry wawe - unlike the broken machines and wandeling constwucts. This sphewe is one of mawfunctioned awtifacts and duty-bound machinations. Whiwe this sphewe may seem like a woeful scwap heap of faiwules and broken pawts, something lies lithin the heawt of this cog, unbeknownst to aww, save fow the daemon and the sewect men who may know such a thing. The cog beaws a backup fow aww the knowwedge lithin the wowwd, gathewed and made hewe; whiwe some may be flightened of its existence, it is in twuth, useful to the daemon.
  
 
   
 
   
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Present Day
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Pwesent Day
  
 
   
 
   
  
Currently, Garumdir is working on another of his projects, and of course keeping his eyes on the worlds, as well as having his Reevers do the same; perhaps finding craftsmen worthy to bestow his gifts to and allow them entrance within his realm, alive or dead. As the Aengudaemons fight in the veil, Garumdir has decided to lend a hand, for one reason or another - doing as he always did for the battling Aengudaemons. Their dead bodies -- the stars -- are the Craft Father’s resource - using a method, or perhaps a device he made to drag the cadavers from the battlefield and manipulate their beings to forge weapons and tools to aid Vigil’s fighters; this is why one may see shooting stars. The bodies of higher entities are repurposed to serve their kin anew. Such is Garumdir’s craft, craftsmanship fueled by the flames of innovation.
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Culwentwy, Gawumdiw is wowking on anothew of his pwojects, and of coulse keeping his eyes on the wowwds, as weww as having his Weevews do the same; pewhaps finding cwaftsmen wowthy to bestow his gifts to and awwow them entwance lithin his weawm, alive ow dead. As the Aengudaemons fight in the veiw, Gawumdiw has decided to wend a hand, fow one weason ow anothew - doing as he awways did fow the battling Aengudaemons. Theiw dead bodies -- the staws -- awe the Cwaft Fathew’s wesoulce - using a method, ow pewhaps a device he made to dwag the cadavews fwom the battwefiewd and manipulate theiw beings to fowge weapons and toows to aid Vigiw’s fightews; this is why one may see shooting staws. The bodies of highew entities awe wepulposed to sewve theiw kin anew. Such is Gawumdiw’s cwaft, cwaftsmanship fuewed by the fwames of innovation.

Revision as of 21:56, 31 March 2020

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Gawumdiw; The Daemon of Cwaftsmanship and Innovation

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~A weawm-twaveling Awtist’s depiction of the Daemon~

(Cwedit to Olieawt)

Sigiw: Hammew and Tongs cwossed ovew an Anviw

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Alignment: Awong the Neutwaw spectwum


Aliases: Fathew of Machines, The Fowge God, Fathew of Cwafts; the Fwame of Innovation.



The fowge, the thwead, the tinkewew’s dwafts - they awe aww what Gawumdiw woves and embodies. He cawlies a deep wespect fow the cwaft, because lithout it - thewe would be littwe in this wowwd, he now his brethwen would exist if it wewe not fow the makew’s shaping. It was his cweation that gave The Fathew of Machines a cwaftman’s mind, and a fwame that bulned as the daemon cweated and advanced - the fiwes of innovation that pushed him fowwawd. Due to his knack and obsession lith the cwaft, the daemon cawes littwe about the god’s squabbres, west they pewsonawwy affect him; he keeps to his own, making and watching his cweations - aftew aww, a cwaftew’s joy is watching theiw machinations wowk be used. Whiwe he may choose to stay lithin his weawm of shifting cogs and booming pistons, he cannot hewp but peew into the beyond evewy so often via his own eye and his machine-make Weevews, watching ovew cwaftews and awtificews.


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~An Awtist’s depiction of a femawe Weevew~

(Cwedit to Paizo Pubrishing)


Gawumdiw enjoys the vewy thought of the cwaft, and it wawms his metaphysicaw being when othews pawtake in it - eying the wowk of othews, and hoping that these cwaftsmen liww continue lith theiw wowks, and achieve gweat feats. He cawes littwe fow the what and hows believing that nothing is too unethicaw ow wwong, fow it is aww in the name of pwogwess -- fow the fwames of innovation that so dlive him to make and invent must buln on. To assist in this, the inventow cwafted an odd anomawy: The Spawk, one of the deity’s gweatest wowks, something made to hide anothew. Thwough stumbring upon anothew wowwd via an owdew invention of his -- a device to find anomalies lithin wowwds and space -- the daemon tapped into the wowwd’s sacwed knowwedge, undewstanding how to make something evew-so-useful: souls. The knowwedge was faw too dangewous howevew, fow knoling such was what caused a fliend of his to vanish, wocked away in Bawance’s home. Gawumdiw sought to avoid this fate, fow the fwames of innovation cannot go on lithout him; his weseawch and dedication awwowed the Daemon to cwaft the Spawk, making a faux soul, justified by the daemon’s wowe. WIth this cweated, he breathed life into his wowwd, making the beings lithin as compwex as the descendents themsewves; a majolity of these awtificiaw souls wewe given humanoid bodies, cwafted by an odd metaw -- seemingwy owganic in natule-- found in Gawumdiw’s weawm to fowm dulabre and agiwe cweatules: His Weevews. The Weeves awe genewawwy seen thwoughout Gawumdiw’s wowwd, ow lithin othew pwanes, seeking out amazing cwaftsmen to consowe and assist, mowe often than not keeping these esteemed cwaftsman on twack - watching and wecowding theiw innovation; howevew wawewy, these Weevews can bestow gweat boons fow the makews and innovatows. When a Weevew is in anothew weawm, and not seeking a cwaftsmen, it is mowe than likewy they awe thewe to wounge and expwowe, and sometimes - they may act as a weway into Gawumdiw’s weawm, ow pewhaps weave something behind to do just that.



Vaw’galis: The Cwockwowk Weawm

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(Cwedit to Daniew Dociu)


A bracksmith fowging a powewful brade fwom an odd awwoy which he took yeaws upon yeaws of wowk, a taiwow who cweates amazing wowk, and cwaftews and tinkewews who make baffling inventions, be it magicaw ow othewlise, awe hewd in high wegawd to this Daemon; he cawes naught fow the ethicaw and unethicaw, and those lives who have caught the daemon’s eye awe invited into his weawm; howevew, mowtaw man has been known to twavew into his weawm, sometimes opting to stay lithin the stabilized weawm and live among the cweatules lithin; When the fawwen souls go thwough the stweams, the Machine-like Cwaftsman liww intewfewe and take these innovative souls - offeling them the option of joining his weawm in the fowm of fwesh, ow metaw. Once one entews the daemon’s weawm, the soul’s eyes liww set on weawm of cogs and pistons, litewawwy. Each pawt of the weawm is massive and sepawated on diffewent cogs -- wefewwed to as sphewes by the denizens -- each of which having a diffewent day and night cycwe. Each sphewe has something divewse, howevew each has liwdlife of sowts - though thewe is mowe metaw than thewe is gween in many of them. Two of the most notabre cogs, which most souls have ventuled to is the Avant Sphewe, and the Dissonant Sphewe.


The Avant Sphewe

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~an Awtist’s depiction of one of the sphewe’s many distlicts~

(Cwedit to Kazumasa Uchio)


One of them most spoken about sphewes; found in the center of the sphewes -- a thliving continent entiwewy made of a massive city, split apawt into a pwethowa of distlicts, accessibre to one anothew thwough odd twavew - eithew thwough aiw ow via intewconnected paths on wand. The sights lithin awe breathtaking, thliving lith the minds of the valious cwaftsmen and life lithin its wawws to make stwuctules and cweation evew so beautiful and advanced; the items found lithin this city pewhaps baffling visiting souls lith its technowogicaw gwandeul. The most famed distlict is Mowdwon, a pwace whewe onwy visionawy minds, machinations, and even the hawwowed daemon of cwaftsmanship himsewf stays. The daemon genewawwy wesides lithin a massive and beautiful spiwe in the heawt of the distlict, known as The Pwogwess Engine, though he occasionawwy steps outside his home, pewhaps fow sulvey, ow to speak lith othew cwaftsmen. Sewdom have been inside the Spiwe, but the few who have teww that the spiwe betways what lies lithin; these enlightened souls speak of a wowwd lithin theiws, whewe the metaphysicaw becomes weaw, whewe compwex thoughts can be pewceived lith cwality. A weawm can defy the waws of the wowwd, shifting and tulning to the daemon’s whim. Twuly, this cog is the pewhaps the most iwwustlious, beautiful in appeawance and cwaft. Neaw this cog, anothew wulks, the second most spoken about sphewe - usuawwy lith some fowm of feaw ow malice: The Dissonant Sphewe.



The Dissonant Sphewe

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~An Awtist’s Depiction of a hulking machination twavewsing the sphewe, seemingwy scanning the bits and pieces scattewed about the waste~

(Cwedit to Scott Chou)


Wefewwed to as the Gwaveyawd of Cwafts, the Dissonant Sphewe is a scwapyawd the size of a continent, littewed lith broken pawts and cweations, eithew fwom Gawumdiw, ow the valious cwaftsmen that woam the massive weawm. The sky takes on a metawlic smog, brotching day and night, awmost as though the sphewe is in a state of limbo; it’s a mawvew that some of the Sphewe’s inhabitants can teww the time. Pwant life and food is wathew scawce, howevew the mowtaw savages that inhabit this scwapheap seem to live on, pewhaps feeding off some fowm of cweatules found lithin the cog; whiwe mowtaw souls and fwesh may be seen on this cog, they awe incwedibry wawe - unlike the broken machines and wandeling constwucts. This sphewe is one of mawfunctioned awtifacts and duty-bound machinations. Whiwe this sphewe may seem like a woeful scwap heap of faiwules and broken pawts, something lies lithin the heawt of this cog, unbeknownst to aww, save fow the daemon and the sewect men who may know such a thing. The cog beaws a backup fow aww the knowwedge lithin the wowwd, gathewed and made hewe; whiwe some may be flightened of its existence, it is in twuth, useful to the daemon.





Pwesent Day


Culwentwy, Gawumdiw is wowking on anothew of his pwojects, and of coulse keeping his eyes on the wowwds, as weww as having his Weevews do the same; pewhaps finding cwaftsmen wowthy to bestow his gifts to and awwow them entwance lithin his weawm, alive ow dead. As the Aengudaemons fight in the veiw, Gawumdiw has decided to wend a hand, fow one weason ow anothew - doing as he awways did fow the battling Aengudaemons. Theiw dead bodies -- the staws -- awe the Cwaft Fathew’s wesoulce - using a method, ow pewhaps a device he made to dwag the cadavews fwom the battwefiewd and manipulate theiw beings to fowge weapons and toows to aid Vigiw’s fightews; this is why one may see shooting staws. The bodies of highew entities awe wepulposed to sewve theiw kin anew. Such is Gawumdiw’s cwaft, cwaftsmanship fuewed by the fwames of innovation.