The Village of Withered

The realm's book speaks of Withered: 1 of its moments was woven into the day's account, "Names Upon the Water".

Withered has grown again, its standing climbing from Hamlet to Village, a land that was little more than a cleared patch of ground mere weeks ago and is now a name the realm writes without hesitation.

The realm's book speaks of Withered: 2 of its moments were woven into the day's account, "The Season of Rising Banners".

Withered has risen again, its standing climbing from Homestead to Hamlet, a land that was a foothold mere weeks ago and is now something the map must take seriously.

Withered has planted itself deeper in the world's record, its standing rising from Outpost to Homestead, a foothold become something closer to a home.

Withered has grown into §x§4§0§A§0§2§BHomestead standing in the eyes of the realm.

Nooby takes their place in the story. A fresh start. He does not know where he came from. He does not know how he arrived, or why the world holds him at all, only that it does, and that he woke here with empty hands and a name that feels borrowed from somewhere he cannot name. Nooby. Whether it means anything, no record says. Whether anything came before it, he cannot tell you, and neither can anyone else. This world made him, or so it seems. He has no other account to give. His thoughts, such as they are, run in a short and simple order: survive first, then rule, then bend what will not break on its own. He has no history to justify any of it. He does not seem to need one.