Ssythrax the Great Sandworm
A desert leviathan rearing up out of the sand, its maw a ring of grinding plates, grit pouring from every segment.
Letters, briefs and reports can be shown with their own typography. Automatic keeps that only while none of your settings above ask otherwise.
Narrows the reading column so each line is shorter and your eyes travel less from one line to the next. Phones keep a full-width column.
Keep Full Width leaves tables, charts, code, videos and galleries at their full size, so nothing is squeezed out of shape.
Everything the game knows, written down: commands and systems, the places in the world, and what there is to do in them.
A desert leviathan rearing up out of the sand, its maw a ring of grinding plates, grit pouring from every segment.
A princess in a leather apron over mail, sleeves pushed back, forge-scale still on her forearms from a bench she works herself.
A towering amalgam built from a thousand grave-robbed skeletons, none of them matching.
A titan-lizard whose footfalls roll like distant storms, hide like cracked riverbed.
A pale serpent that swims through packed snow, frost sheeting off its length.
A serpent-sorceress coiled around drowned temple stone, hands raised mid-casting.
A serpent-haired horror with a level, unhurried gaze and stone-grey eyes.
A white stag whose wide antlers drag a small blizzard behind them.
A green-skinned orc warchief with a heavy underbite and jutting tusks, mismatched looted plate strapped over one shoulder, a war-standard of enemy helms on…
A bloated arachnid queen, silk and husks matted thick across her swollen abdomen.