the Master of the Works
A foreman-thing of iron and glass with plans rolled under one arm, measuring you as material.
Letters, briefs and reports can be shown with their own typography. Automatic keeps that only while none of your settings above ask otherwise.
Everything the game knows, written down: commands and systems, the places in the world, and what there is to do in them.
A foreman-thing of iron and glass with plans rolled under one arm, measuring you as material.
A smith whose bare hands are the tools, glowing metal held and shaped in unprotected fingers.
A gracious host in fine old clothes, carving knife and fork held ready, smiling and not permitting anyone to leave.
A withered thing sprawled at its ease across a looted throne, one leg hooked over the arm of it, entirely and terribly at home.
A drowned miller in a sodden leather apron, grey and waterlogged, wet hair hanging over his face, his legs lost in the water he…
A vault-thing standing exactly where it was shelved, upright inside a rack of iron bands, nine thousand and one stamped across the plate on…
A goblin grown vast and stooped, hands worn down to blunt ruin by digging that never stopped.
Winter arrived at a shape: a tall faceless silhouette of packed snow and black ice, no features, no ornament, nothing to negotiate with.