Land: The Whispering Veil (Vale)
Quintilius's domain is known as The Whispering Veil, a lonely, wind-swept valley where reality itself seems tenuous. Thick mists coil through the skeletal remains of ancient trees, their gnarled branches twisting like fingers toward the sky. The land is perpetually caught in a state of twilight, as if the sun hesitates to rise fully or set completely. The air is heavy with the scent of damp earth, old parchment, and something faintly metallic—like a storm forever on the horizon.
Scattered throughout the valley are strange, half-formed ruins, the remnants of forgotten structures that might crumble into dust when touched. Some say these ruins flicker in and out of existence, as if trapped between past and present. At night, distant, untraceable whispers drift through the mist, speaking in languages long since dead. The locals fear this place, calling it The Land of Echoes, and avoid it at all costs.
Home: The House of Dissonant Truths
Perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking a river of inky black water, The House of Dissonant Truths is a structure that defies easy description. It is a sprawling, asymmetrical manor built from mismatched stones—some weathered and ancient, others smooth and impossibly pristine. Its many towers and wings seem to shift subtly when unobserved, and no visitor can ever quite remember how they navigated its halls.
Inside, the walls are lined with shelves of ancient tomes, many bound in strange, unidentifiable materials. There are great halls where ink-stained manuscripts flutter through the air as if carried by invisible hands, and dimly lit corridors where spectral figures flicker in and out of existence—perhaps memories, perhaps something else entirely.
The grand study, where Quintilius spends most of his time, is an overwhelming sight. Its massive desk is strewn with parchment filled with frantic, looping script. Candles burn with unnatural, shifting colors, casting shadows that move independently of their sources. Maps of constellations that do not exist in any known sky are pinned to the walls, alongside anatomical sketches of creatures that have never walked the earth.
Despite its eerie nature, the house is not abandoned—Quintilius welcomes guests with a theatrical flourish, eager to share his latest revelations over spiced wine and enigmatic conversation. But few who visit leave unchanged, for the House of Dissonant Truths does not merely shelter its master—it is a living manifestation of his obsessions, a place where reality itself bends to the weight of his thoughts.
Nestled in the mist-laden valley below the House of Dissonant Truths, the Stables of the Veil are unlike any ordinary horse-breeding grounds. Built from dark, weathered wood and reinforced with iron filigree shaped into arcane sigils, the structure hums faintly in the twilight air. Strange lanterns, fueled by an unearthly green-blue flame, hang from the rafters, casting flickering shadows that seem to dance of their own accord.
Beyond the stables, stretching into the mist, lie The Umbral Pastures—rolling fields of unnaturally dark grass that shimmers faintly under the half-light of a never-quite-setting sun. The land seems endless, as though one could gallop for hours and never reach its edge.
Household
The Chatelaine is a severe woman named Augusta. Of singular focus she has long resisted the strange detachment of the Whispering Vale from what could strictly be called reality. She wears bold primary colors as if to anchor the murky world by her very presence. A solid necklace of lapis lazuli adorns her long neck, a gift from Quintilius long ago that keeps her from drifting away
A perpetual presence is Samantha, a young girl who is also sometimes a young boy named Sam. Frivolous and whimsical, the child cavorts and plays impossible games, hosting countless friends from the surrounding land. The noise of children is a constant bustle in the House of Dissonant Truths.
Neb is the stable master, and possibly the closest thing Quintilius has to a partner. While a man of simple upbringing, his eye for horseflesh has been a boon to Quintilius's dreams of breeding superior bloodlines. They often can be found chewing straw while leaning on the rails to the Umbral Pasture, talking of simple things.
