Emherst

Emherst, nestled atop the forested hill called the Fox’s Theater, appears at first glance to be a tranquil and idyllic village in the Domain of Dread known as Kartakass. Quaint cottages with moss-covered roofs cluster along winding cobbled paths, their gardens filled with wildflowers and the sounds of gentle music played on flutes and lyres. The air always seems to carry the faint scent of lilac and woodsmoke. Locals, dressed in rich natural hues, sing as they work, and strangers are welcomed with hospitality and song.

But this is only the surface.

Emherst thrives on illusion. Every action, every word, every smile is part of a performance. The villagers are masters of theater and misdirection, raised from birth to act their part in the “play” of daily life. Outsiders are rarely told the truth—they’re told stories, offered performances. Each tale about the village seems contradictory, and each answer to a question veils another secret. Everyone is both actor and audience.

The village's culture reveres artful deception, especially through storytelling, song, and disguise. But this culture is not without cost: sincerity is rare, trust even rarer, and mistakes in the script can be deadly.

Below the surface village lies the true Emherst, a subterranean warren of tunnels, chambers, and forgotten stages carved into the stone. Here, the Archivists dwell—pale-eyed lorekeepers and actors who catalog every lie told above and rehearse shadow plays that echo real events.

The underground village is both archive and oracle, its players reenacting moments from the past, sometimes changing outcomes to influence the future. Ritual performances down here can alter fate itself—or so they claim.

In the lowest levels of the caverns lie abandoned theaters, cursed scripts, and dressing rooms that lead to nowhere. Some believe a primordial storyteller, once mortal but now something else entirely, sleeps in the deepest dark, feeding on secrets, lies, and the tension between truth and performance.

Emherst is about the duality of identity and performance, a village where no one is quite who they seem and every kindness may be part of a greater manipulation. It is ideal for Gothic tales of masked identities, dangerous truths, or mysteries layered in narrative.

Emherst is a village of mirrors and masks, beauty and deceit—a place where the line between theater and reality has long since vanished, and every moment might be the opening act of a tragedy yet to come.