“The crown is a prison forged in gold. I wear it not for power, but to hold back the darkness that would consume all.”

"A fellowship of Tarnished, bound not by grace, but by will."

Drifters through the fog, we gather at the edge of ruin. Here, in lands forsaken and flame-dimmed, we seek glory, madness, or perhaps meaning. Join us, kindred soul—bearer of wounds and wit alike—and let the echoes of old runes guide your blade.

The path is lost. We walk it still.