Amberwick: The Catalyst Beneath (In danger)
Beep’s visit awakened a buried artifact beneath the canyon floor.
Scholars believe her presence destabilized the artifact’s frequency.
The artifact is becoming volatile. Carefully maintained stasis has unraveled.
A new quest has been posted, urgently seeking intervention.
Failure to act will force a last resort: the artifact’s destruction.
If that happens, Amberwick will lose its core power source—and much of what defines it.

Harwick: The Hum
A missing merchant was recovered—alive, but altered. He speaks of a tune that no one else can hear. A melody that “guides him.”
He does not sleep. He does not break rhythm. Even when questioned directly.
That same tune has begun to echo through Harwick, hummed absentmindedly by guards, vendors, and even children.
It weaves into daily life—into the rhythm of spoons stirring soup, of coins clinking in palms.
No one remembers learning it. Yet many now whistle it.“It’s just an old song,” someone insists. “But they won’t say where they heard it first.”

Haram: Silence (Deserted)
The town remains undisturbed. Meals rot untouched. Doors creak in empty homes.
Villagers are still seen deeper in the woods, silent and unmoving, wrapped in song.
They show no sign of violence or decay. Perhaps they could still be saved?
The forest grows harder to enter, as if it resists interference. The town feels held, not abandoned.
Travelers say the music carries farther than before, and that its pull has grown stronger.
“You can call out to them,” said one searcher. “They won’t hear you. Only the song. If you're not careful, you'll hear it too.”

Evesta: The Spell Runs Thin
Magic in Evesta feels thinner beyond the Guild’s walls. Spells take longer. Some fade altogether.
Magic-users speak of a barrier between the world and the Weave, as if reality itself has grown more resistant.
Beep and the Guild remain unaffected. Some believe the Guild itself is the source of the anomaly.
Rumors claim the Guild has been vanishing around midnight, only to return by morning. These claims are unverified.
The Guild garden continues to grow. It is quiet, but never still.

Bulfe: The Ashen Refusal (Destroyed)
When the volcano erupted, no adventurer had arrived. The help never came.
Those who hesitated died running.
Those who believed died kneeling.
Now, only silence remains.
The land glows faintly at night where the lava still cools.
Ash falls like snow. Nothing stirs.

Luxett: Refinement Withdrawn
No further quests have emerged from Luxett. Two public wings of the Grand Gallery are now closed for “curation,” though insiders suspect a reassessment of trust and security. In the salons, conversations have grown quieter. Private guards now watch over estates. Family retainers shadow nobles between engagements. Magical consultants—sourced from outside the Guild—have quietly returned.
Officially, nothing has changed.
Unofficially, everything has.

Lorewyn: The Sea Whispers Names
Fish drawn from the deep have changed. Their eyes are too human. Their bones grow in unfamiliar patterns. Some fishermen claim they whisper secrets.
Supplies remain steady, though trust in the meat has begun to falter.
Children have begun naming the sea creatures before they’re caught, hoping it makes them less likely to be eaten.
One blinked at me,” said Bester Mae. “I didn’t look surprised.”

Chiptonley: The Whispered Heir:
A young noble heir has been seen outside the city, traveling in secrecy under guard.
No name is spoken aloud. No cause is publicly claimed.
Some believe he is the result of a scandal too delicate to survive scrutiny—others whisper of possession.
What did he see beyond Chiptonley’s gates?
Several houses have delayed major events. Entire estates are covering mirrors, citing “restoration.”
The term “spiritual contamination” is passed in cautious tones, never voiced too loudly.

Marbex: The Sky Has Eyes
The flock of aggressive birds terrorizing Marbex has been scattered thanks to a brave adventurer’s intervention. No new coordinated attacks have occurred. But the air remains tense.
Signs left behind suggest the birds weren’t simply mutated—they were directed. One bore markings etched into its wings like runes. Another carried a small, blank panel that hums faintly in sunlight.
Scout birds still linger at the forest’s edge, no longer attacking but always watching.
Seasonal stories at the edge of town have been altered—children now whisper that the shadows fall wrong.
Children’s games now include a new role: “The Watcher,” who stands with arms outstretched and eyes closed.

Stonekeep: The Stone Shifts
A subsection of the Archeon Wing is now sealed for “symbolic instability.” Wards have been placed over all spell-etched murals.
The Grand Library has gone through more reorganization in the past month than in decades.
A new mural has begun etching itself in a corner of the archives. No artist is working, yet the lines deepen daily.
Some archivists report new figures appearing in older panels, holding unfamiliar books. No one recalls drawing them.

Willowhollow: The Forest Bleeds
Something has shifted. The forest grows in strange and unknowable ways. Twinned trees grow in mirrored pairs, pulsing faintly under moonlight. A bioluminescent fungus spreads along vine bridges, glowing in response to spoken names, and dimming for those long forgotten. Spirit guides now linger longer, sometimes even following travelers into neighboring towns.