The Chthonian Clepsydra (k-thown-EE-an KLEhP-sehd-ruh)
The Chthonian Clepsydra lies deep beneath the central district in Groměsto. All sentient species within the city walls are aware of its presence, even if they are unaware of the source or its name. The closer one moves to the city center, the more pronounced the haunting rhythm becomes. While a regular clock makes a ubiquitous tic-toc sound, the Chthonian Clepsydra creates a pair of demonic chords, one high and one low, that resemble the sound of a soul being wretched from a body.
Most long time residents of the city, more than a month or so, cope with the mental sound and all but ignore it outside of the central district. City newcomers are not so fortunate and suffer from lack of sleep, feel constantly distracted, and struggle to concentrate.
While all within the city are aware of the Chthonian Clepsydra's name and presence, very few have ever laid eyes upon it. Fewer still have touched it and the number of living souls that have operated or maintained it is under a few dozen.
The one thing that is not in short supply about the Chthonian Clepsydra are the rumors of its appearance, creation, or purpose. The dining rooms of local inns and the bars of Groměsto's taverns fill with malevolent tales as the hours grow later and the bottles of drink grow empty. A countdown to a demonic invasion; a beacon to interplaner travellers; and a chronograph for feeding souls to the Powers of the Peninsula are examples of the tales that fly.
The bard, Singe Misadral, has several songs and poems that feature the Chthonian Clepsydra that can be heard for a golden round, glass of Lamshek red, or a flaggon of McNeeries Stout. Rime of the Clockwork Fool is well known and cherished pub song for young and old alike.
Note well visitor to Groměsto: There are no tours, audiences, or research opportunities available for purchace to visit the Chthonian Clepsydra. Any local offering you the opportunity to do so is nothing more than a flim-flam man or confidence artist.
Most long time residents of the city, more than a month or so, cope with the mental sound and all but ignore it outside of the central district. City newcomers are not so fortunate and suffer from lack of sleep, feel constantly distracted, and struggle to concentrate.
While all within the city are aware of the Chthonian Clepsydra's name and presence, very few have ever laid eyes upon it. Fewer still have touched it and the number of living souls that have operated or maintained it is under a few dozen.
The one thing that is not in short supply about the Chthonian Clepsydra are the rumors of its appearance, creation, or purpose. The dining rooms of local inns and the bars of Groměsto's taverns fill with malevolent tales as the hours grow later and the bottles of drink grow empty. A countdown to a demonic invasion; a beacon to interplaner travellers; and a chronograph for feeding souls to the Powers of the Peninsula are examples of the tales that fly.
The bard, Singe Misadral, has several songs and poems that feature the Chthonian Clepsydra that can be heard for a golden round, glass of Lamshek red, or a flaggon of McNeeries Stout. Rime of the Clockwork Fool is well known and cherished pub song for young and old alike.
Note well visitor to Groměsto: There are no tours, audiences, or research opportunities available for purchace to visit the Chthonian Clepsydra. Any local offering you the opportunity to do so is nothing more than a flim-flam man or confidence artist.
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