They say the storm learned to mourn before it learned to rage.
When the sky first split itself open, it was not in anger, but in grief, a lament screamed into the sea until the waves learned its name.
Tempest Dirge was formed where lightning struck black water and refused to leave, where thunder rolled long after the battle had ended. Each relic carries the echo of a storm that outlived those who called it down, a song of wind and rain sung over broken fleets and drowned oaths.
When cast, these dice do not answer to chance alone. They answer to momentum, to inevitability, to the slow, crushing certainty of the coming storm.
Roll them, and listen carefully.
The thunder always comes twice.
They say the storm learned to mourn before it learned to rage.
When the sky first split itself open, it was not in anger, but in grief, a lament screamed into the sea until the waves learned its name.
Tempest Dirge was formed where lightning struck black water and refused to leave, where thunder rolled long after the battle had ended. Each relic carries the echo of a storm that outlived those who called it down, a song of wind and rain sung over broken fleets and drowned oaths.
When cast, these dice do not answer to chance alone. They answer to momentum, to inevitability, to the slow, crushing certainty of the coming storm.
Roll them, and listen carefully.
The thunder always comes twice.
