Points of Interest:

Everwealth is a graveyard pretending to be a nation. Every inch of it bears a scar, and every scar has a sad, sad story. The roads are paved with the bones of better times; The taverns raise toasts to ghosts who still sit at their own tables. The past here doesn’t sleep, it festers. Kings fall by the hands of beggars who call them “Your Eminence,” and madmen chart the edges of the frontier just to get themselves butchered so their maps never see the light of day. You can follow their ink if you like; Treasure’s at the end of every blood trail, or so the songs claim. Just mind the dates and the monuments, you don’t want to laugh on a mourning day. The air here remembers every scream from every heinous act; And refuses to let us forget them for long. Everwealth doesn’t care who it kills. Every fact in Everwealth is a blade, every name a spell, every ruin a door that opens both ways. Step through, if you’ve got the greed, or the death wish. Out here, even the warnings sparkle.