Time’s Rest Book
In the vast world of Hygurin, time is a living entity, a force that ebbs and flows through the very fabric of existence. It is a world like no other, a place where the gears of time tick in perfect unison, where the hiss of steam and the clang of metal reverberate through the air like a chorus of industry. It is a world that is ruled by the cold, calculating gaze of Sophileo, the god of the automaton Almir, and his loyal Timekeepers.
Here, the very landscape is an ode to the intricate workings of a clock, a place where even the obscurest of an architects forsaken shapes can create impossible geometry that comes to life on a planetary scale. The buildings are angular and mechanical, their facades a labyrinthine network of gears and cogs that churn ceaselessly. The very air is thick with steam, and the sounds of pistons and the rhythmic thumping of mechanical hearts fill the senses.
But amidst this sea of metal and industry, there is a watchful eye that is always looking out for any disturbance in the delicate balance of time. The Timekeepers, clad in blue robes that cloak their bronze and brass mechanical bodies, patrol the world tirelessly, their clock turners always at the ready. They are the wardens of time, the keepers of the everflow, and they will stop at nothing to preserve the sanctity of time. In this plane or another.
For in this world, time is both master and servant, a force to be worshipped and revered, yet also harnessed and bent to the will of those who possess the knowledge and the technology to do so. It is a world where the ticking of the clock is both a comfort and a warning, a reminder of the finite nature of all things, and the beauty and fragility of existence. In Hygurin, time truly finds its rest, and those who dwell within its bounds are forever changed by its eternal and unyielding march.
Here, the very landscape is an ode to the intricate workings of a clock, a place where even the obscurest of an architects forsaken shapes can create impossible geometry that comes to life on a planetary scale. The buildings are angular and mechanical, their facades a labyrinthine network of gears and cogs that churn ceaselessly. The very air is thick with steam, and the sounds of pistons and the rhythmic thumping of mechanical hearts fill the senses.
But amidst this sea of metal and industry, there is a watchful eye that is always looking out for any disturbance in the delicate balance of time. The Timekeepers, clad in blue robes that cloak their bronze and brass mechanical bodies, patrol the world tirelessly, their clock turners always at the ready. They are the wardens of time, the keepers of the everflow, and they will stop at nothing to preserve the sanctity of time. In this plane or another.
For in this world, time is both master and servant, a force to be worshipped and revered, yet also harnessed and bent to the will of those who possess the knowledge and the technology to do so. It is a world where the ticking of the clock is both a comfort and a warning, a reminder of the finite nature of all things, and the beauty and fragility of existence. In Hygurin, time truly finds its rest, and those who dwell within its bounds are forever changed by its eternal and unyielding march.