Bloodlines

Bloodlines: Human · Dwarf · Elf · Halfling · Gnome · Half-Elf · Orc · Goblin · Lizardfolk · Infernal

Your Bloodline is the ancestry carried in your blood, appearance, family stories, and place within the history of Eclura.

A Bloodline does not increase Ability Scores, grant special vision, alter Speed, or provide automatic combat abilities. Two members of the same Bloodline may have entirely different talents, cultures, homelands, and beliefs.

Bloodlines instead connect characters to the world. These connections do not guarantee success. They create possibilities, questions, and reasons to explore.

Each Bloodline entry includes five important pieces of its legacy. These may be relics, lost places, rites, sanctuaries, legendary figures, hidden roads, or unresolved mysteries. Characters do not automatically possess or know the truth of these legacies. They are places to seek, stories to investigate, and rewards to discover.

Bloodlines in Play

A Bloodline describes ancestry, inherited appearance, and the histories carried through a character’s family. It does not determine personality, culture, homeland, profession, morality, or destiny.

Characters of the same Bloodline may come from entirely different communities and share little beyond ancestry. A dwarf raised in a coastal human city may know nothing of the Deep Hallows. A goblin born into a wealthy merchant family may have no connection to warrens or scavenger traditions. An infernal may inherit the mark of an ancient bargain without knowing who made it or why.

Bloodlines create opportunities within the story. These possibilities arise through play and do not grant automatic success.

Your Bloodline Story

When choosing a Bloodline, consider how it fits into your character’s life.

• Where and among whom were you raised?
• How connected are you to the traditions of your family or ancestors?
• Is your Bloodline visible, concealed, misunderstood, or unimportant where you live?
• What story about your family have you always believed?
• What question about your ancestry remains unanswered?

You do not need to answer every question before play begins.

Bloodline Mementos

Every character begins with one Bloodline Memento: a small object tied to their family, ancestry, or forgotten history.

Choose one or roll two d6s. The first die gives the first digit and the second gives the second digit.

A Memento grants no automatic bonus. Its value comes from how it is used.

Bloodline Mementos do not normally occupy an Inventory Slot.

d66	Bloodline Memento
11	A tarnished signet bearing the crest of a family erased from every known record.
12	A metal key whose teeth seem slightly different each time you enter an ancient ruin.
13	Half of a map showing a road absent from every modern chart.
14	A sealed vial of soil taken from a homeland your family insists still exists.
15	A coin bearing the face of a monarch no historian recognizes.
16	A prayer written in a dead language. One line has been violently scratched away.
21	A smooth stone said to grow warm near structures raised by your ancestors.
22	A child’s wooden toy carved in the shape of a creature believed to be mythical.
23	A sealed letter addressed to someone with your name who lived centuries ago.
24	A broken compass that points toward somewhere other than north.
25	A funerary token belonging to an ancestor whose tomb was never found.
26	A fragment of stained glass depicting your Bloodline beneath an unfamiliar constellation.
31	An iron nail removed from a door that no living person remembers seeing.
32	A tiny silver bell that makes no sound except at certain crossroads.
33	A shard from a broken weapon bearing an unknown maker’s mark.
34	Two bone dice whose symbols belong to a forgotten game.
35	A heavy ring engraved with a name no one in your family will discuss.
36	A dried seed passed down for generations. It has never sprouted.
41	A strip of an old battle standard whose colors no modern kingdom claims.
42	A black candle that your family has never permitted anyone to light.
43	A page torn from a ledger. Every name is crossed out except yours.
44	A pale shell that carries the sound of distant water, even far inland.
45	A sliver of dark mirror that reflects a room you have never visited.
46	A fragment of a bronze mask shaped for a face unlike any living people.
51	A wooden whistle carved by an ancestor who vanished during a pilgrimage.
52	A single link from a chain said to have bound a forgotten king.
53	A length of faded red cord tied in a knot no one has been able to loosen.
54	A prayer bead bearing the symbol of a god absent from every known temple.
55	A child’s drawing of a city suspended above the clouds.
56	A vial of ash taken from a fire that burned cold.
61	A brass token engraved with the words, “Return what was taken.”
62	A stone tooth broken from a statue larger than any known monument.
63	A family recipe requiring an ingredient no scholar can identify.
64	A rusted medal awarded for service in a war missing from the histories.
65	A tiny golden hinge made for a door no more than a few inches tall.
66	A blank piece of parchment that reveals a single line of writing under certain ancestral lights.

Human

Humans are among the youngest of Eclura’s widespread Bloodlines, though their kingdoms often speak as if history began with them. Their cities rise quickly, spreading walls and roads across lands that were empty only a generation before. Dynasties fall just as quickly, leaving new rulers to build upon ruins whose names have already been forgotten.

Human communities have spread through every region of Eclura. Their customs change as families cross borders, settle distant lands, and rebuild after war. This constant movement has scattered human history across old battlefields, abandoned estates, buried cities, and records rewritten by those who came later.

Many families carry stories that no longer appear in official histories. They speak of vanished titles, lost kingdoms, and promises made to rulers no scholar remembers. Most people treat these tales as family pride or old superstition. A few are the last surviving pieces of a past someone tried to erase.

“We inherit nothing but unfinished work.”

—Queen Mara Venn, before the rebuilding of High Caldra

The Crown of the First King

This dark iron crown holds a single piece of amber with a living flame trapped inside. Every account of humanity’s first ruler describes it, though none agree upon the ruler’s name or homeland. The crown is said to reveal the burdens carried by anyone who claims the right to rule.

The Standard of Nine Banners

Nine faded banners hang from this ancient silver-tipped standard, each bearing the colors of a forgotten human realm. When raised, the cloth fills nearby allies with the courage of the armies that once marched beneath it. The standard vanished when the Nine Realms turned against one another.

The Key of the Nameless Capital

This heavy bronze key bears the outline of a city whose towers shift whenever the metal is turned. It is believed to open the central gate of humanity’s lost capital, where the true histories of every human crown were once preserved. The key disappeared shortly before all records of the city were burned.

The Ledger of Common Names

This immense book records the births, deaths, vows, crimes, and inheritances ignored by royal histories. Its pages reveal false bloodlines, forgotten heirs, and promises still binding after kingdoms fall. The Ledger vanished when its final keeper refused to surrender it to an emperor.

The Blade of the Unfinished Kingdom

This broad black-steel sword was forged for a ruler who died before taking the throne. Names appear along its fuller when it is drawn for a cause left unfinished, each belonging to someone whose duty ended too soon. The blade vanished during the fall of High Caldra.

Dwarf

Dwarves believe stone remembers.

To dwarves, worked stone keeps part of the hand that shaped it. Age, damage, and repair leave a history that skilled eyes can read long after written records have faded. A mountain may carry the memory of thousands of years, watching kingdoms rise and vanish around it.

Dwarven cultures have formed in high citadels, glacial caverns, deep roads, and forge-lit settlements. Each community has its own customs of craft, burial, oath, and remembrance. A dwarf may inherit a clan name, a trade, or a duty that has passed through the same family for generations.

The deepest wound in dwarven history was the closing of the Deep Halls. Ancient gates sealed without warning, cutting cities and families away from one another. Mines, forges, and ancestral vaults vanished beyond reach, while entire settlements disappeared from the known world. Some of those halls have begun to open again, revealing places absent from every dwarven record.

“A ruin is not dead. It is waiting for someone who knows how to listen.”

—Brunna Stonewake, Keeper of the Seventh Vault

The Hammer of First Ember

This black-headed warhammer was forged upon the Anvil of First Ember and carried into the wars beneath the world. Its surface remains warm in any cold, and ancient runes flare when it strikes stone, armor, or creatures of the Deep Hallows. It vanished beside the gate where its final bearer fell.

The Last Stonegate Key

This silver-veined stone key bears runes that shift near ancient dwarven gates. It once opened the entire Stonegate network, allowing its bearer to cross between distant strongholds in a single step. Dwarven records place it within a royal vault sealed during the closing of the Deep Halls.

The Star-Crown of Nhal-Dur

This dark silver crown was worn by the rulers of Nhal-Dur beneath the city’s artificial stars. Lights drift across its surface, warning its wearer of dangers beneath the world. It disappeared when the city sealed itself, and the final record places it inside the palace observatory.

The First Voice-Stone

This pale stone cylinder holds the memory of an ancestor older than any known dwarven clan. Within a Choir Vault, its voice can awaken silent chambers and draw forgotten memories from the surrounding stone. Some believe it also commands the oldest dwarven guardians.

The Scroll of Hidden Halls

The complete Rite of Hidden Halls is carved upon a sheet of stone thin enough to roll like parchment. Its runes awaken sealed doors and forgotten dwarven vaults by calling to the memory within worked stone. The scroll was divided after the Deep Halls closed, and its fragments remain scattered among rival keepers.

Elf

Elves measure history through what endures.

Their oldest stories remember an age when Eclura touched other realms more freely. Starlit forests opened beneath unfamiliar skies, and cities grew from living trees shaped over centuries. Many of those places were cut away when the bonds between worlds weakened, leaving settlements and sanctuaries beyond ordinary reach.

Elven cultures have grown around different ideas of light, memory, and duty. Sun courts, moon enclaves, forest clans, and twilight communities preserve traditions shaped by their own lands and histories. Long lives allow elves to remember ancient events clearly, though they may disagree for centuries over what those events meant.

The most dangerous elven ruins often remain beautiful. Their gardens still bloom, their towers remain unbroken, and their silence has lasted far longer than it should.

“Do not mistake age for wisdom. Some mistakes simply take centuries to reveal themselves.”

—Ilyrien Vael, Last Warden of the Glasswood

The Chalice of Aelthyr

This shallow silver chalice once held water from the Moonwell of Aelthyr. When filled beneath the open sky, its surface reflects hidden stars, and its water is said to break curses, reveal bloodlines, and restore stolen memories. The chalice vanished when Aelthyr fell.

The Thorn of Evening

This silver shortsword was carried by the wardens of an elven twilight court. Its edge gleams beneath moonlight and burns creatures touched by shadow, curses, or Voidlight. The blade vanished when its final bearer entered a forest where dawn had ceased to rise.

The Bow of Glasswood

This translucent longbow was grown from the heartwood of Glasswood before the city hardened into crystal. Its string hums with voices trapped inside the frozen trees, and its arrows leave trails of pale starlight. The bow vanished with the last warden to enter the forest.

The Mail of Hollow Dawn

This pale suit of elven scale armor holds the cold radiance of a failed sunrise ritual. Its plates brighten within supernatural darkness and protect the wearer from forces that consume ordinary light. The armor disappeared with the monarch whose court was swallowed by shadow.

The Moonleaf Canticle

The complete Vigil of Eternal Moon is preserved upon silver leaves that sing when opened beneath moonlight. Its verses can restore true moonlight to lands consumed by unnatural darkness, though the song requires several voices. Only the final leaf has ever been recovered.

Halfling

Halfling history often survives around the table. Recipes, songs, family names, and stories of long-lost homes pass from one generation to the next. A village may disappear beneath war or weather, while its traditions continue in a distant kitchen among descendants who have never seen it.

Halfling communities have endured by knowing when to leave and how to begin again. Families settle on river barges, in busy city districts, beside quiet fields, and within traveling caravans. Home grows wherever people share their work, care for one another, and keep a place ready for those who may return.

Their stories preserve parts of history that rulers often ignore. Halflings remember who shared food during famine, who gave shelter when soldiers came, and which noble promises ended in betrayal. A tale told over supper may carry more truth than the records kept in a royal hall.

“A road is only frightening until someone sets a table at the other end.”

—Merrin Bramble, Keeper of the Wandering Hearth

The Hearthstone of the Wandering Home

This smooth red stone was taken from the first hearth of the Wandering Home. It remains warm in any cold and fills a room with the comfort of the bearer’s safest memory. The Hearthstone disappeared after the Home sheltered a village during the Night of Burning Fields.

The Bell of Returning Names

This small brass bell was carried by halfling families driven from their homes during an ancient war. When rung over a cherished object, it speaks the name of the person who loved it most and awakens memories held within it. The Bell vanished after revealing the true heirs of a stolen estate.

The Seed of Last Summer

This amber seed was gathered from the Orchard of Last Summer, where neither fruit nor living creature grows old. Once planted, it is said to produce a tree whose fruit can preserve life through famine and plague. The Seed was last carried into a city under siege.

The Cloak of a Hundred Hearths

This patchwork cloak was sewn from cloth rescued from homes destroyed across generations of war. Those gathered beneath it are protected from bitter cold, supernatural fear, and hostile flame. The cloak disappeared with a halfling matriarch who led hundreds of refugees from a burning kingdom.

The Hearthward Blade

This leaf-shaped shortsword was forged from iron gathered from ruined farms and abandoned villages. Its edge shines with golden light when drawn to defend kin, guests, or a threatened home. The blade vanished during the final defense of Bramble Hill, though the village still stands.

Gnome

Gnomes have always been drawn to questions that sensible people leave unanswered.

For many gnomes, curiosity is a duty. A mystery may pass through several generations before anyone finds the answer, with every new thinker adding notes, tools, and theories to the work. Entire settlements have grown around observatories, laboratories, and problems that no one has yet solved.

Gnomish study reaches into dreams, magic, color, sound, memory, and anything else that refuses an easy explanation. Their greatest inventions often begin without a useful purpose. The joy of understanding something can be reason enough to build it.

Many ancient gnomish workshops continue to function long after their makers have died. Their machines still follow old instructions, even when those instructions no longer suit the world around them.

“Impossible is a useful word. It tells you where someone stopped looking.”

—Pella Quickspark, Cartographer of Unmade Roads

The Contradiction Engine

This brass cube unfolds into a humming machine of gears, mirrors, and turning symbols. When given an impossible problem, the Engine rearranges itself until it produces a solution. Its answers are always correct, though they may cause new problems of their own.

The Necklace of Borrowed Memory

This fine silver necklace holds a single glass bead taken from the Clockwork Orchard. When worn, it allows the bearer to experience a preserved memory with perfect clarity, including the feelings of its unknown owner. The memory changes each time the bead catches moonlight.

The Orb of Unasked Questions

This cloudy violet orb fills with shifting symbols whenever an important truth is discovered somewhere in Eclura. A patient observer may glimpse pieces of the question that truth answers. Several scholars vanished after the Orb began showing the same unfamiliar constellation.

The Bell That Never Rang

This crooked silver bell produces no sound that living ears can hear. Ancient constructs, spirits, and enchanted objects awaken when it is struck, responding as though called by a forgotten command. Its maker vanished during the first public demonstration.

The Impossible Edge

This gnomish blade bends and changes length without breaking, slipping around shields and striking from unexpected angles. Tiny measurements engraved along its surface rewrite themselves during battle. The sword disappeared after its inventor challenged a duelist who had never been defeated.

Half-Elf

Half-elves inherit more than two Bloodlines. They also inherit the hopes, duties, and old arguments carried by both.

Some are raised within human kingdoms, while others grow among elven enclaves or mixed communities where their ancestry needs no explanation. Many learn early that customs change between families and that the same event may have two very different histories. This often makes them skilled speakers, scholars, and negotiators, though no half-elf is required to serve as a bridge between others.

The oldest half-elven communities formed where human settlements met ancient elven lands. Their homes joined living wood with carved stone, and their laws drew from peoples who measured time in very different ways. Some of these communities became places of peace. Others fell when old fears returned.

Half-elven history carries divided inheritances, disputed names, and promises remembered across unequal lifetimes. Each generation decides which parts of those histories deserve to continue.

“A bridge belongs to neither shore. That does not mean it has no home.”

—Seren Vale, Speaker at the Treaty of Two Dawns

The Ring of Shared Blood

This plain gold ring was forged from jewelry surrendered by human and elven envoys after a generation of war. It grows warm when its bearer speaks an oath meant to bind divided peoples. Royal houses, elven courts, and one half-elven family each claim rightful ownership.

The Blade of Two Dawns

This finely balanced sword joins a human-forged steel spine with an edge of pale elven silver. Sunlight and moonlight awaken different runes along the blade, and its strikes are said to break curses tied to ancestry or inherited vows. It vanished during the final battle of the Two Dawns War.

The Mantle of Vaelbridge

This gray cloak was woven from human wool and living elven thread by the founders of Vaelbridge. Its fabric moves around the wearer like leaves in wind and protects them from magic that preys upon bloodline or allegiance. The Mantle disappeared with the city’s final ambassador.

The Mirror of Divided Memory

This moon-silver mirror reveals the same remembered event through the eyes of two people who witnessed it. Contradictions appear together across its surface, exposing mistakes, missing details, and deliberate lies. The Mirror was stolen from the Archive of Divided Memory before its keepers vanished.

The Harp of Many Voices

This small traveling harp bears silver strings beside strings of dark gut. When played by companions of different peoples, its music strengthens their resolve and carries their voices across the battlefield. The Harp was last heard during the defense of a city whose defenders had once been enemies.

Orc

Orcish history survives in scars, songs, weapons, and the names of those who lived through hard times. Their stories value the truth of a deed over the glory given to it. A victory won through cowardice remains a shame, while a final stand made for the right reason may be remembered long after the kingdom it defended is gone.

Many orc peoples were shaped by lands other cultures believed could not be settled. They endured long migrations, hunger, broken treaties, and wars fought when there was nowhere left to retreat. Outsiders often remember only the battles that followed, forgetting the generations of struggle that came before them.

Orc clans do not always agree on the meaning of their oldest stories. A weapon honored by one clan may be hated by another. The same battlefield may be remembered as a victory, a tragedy, or a warning. The dead are never forgotten, and their deeds are expected to be told as they truly happened.

“Do not sing that I was fearless. Sing that I was afraid and advanced.”

—Kharra One-Tusk, before the Battle of Black Snow

Red Maw

Red Maw is a massive battle axe forged from dark iron streaked with crimson crystal. It belonged to Aruk the Unifier, who ended seven generations of clan war before turning against the peace he had made. The axe grows heavier in the hands of anyone who fights only for glory.

The Helm of the Last Warlord

This battered helm carries the marks of hundreds of blows, yet its metal has never been pierced. Its final wearer sent an entire orcish nation to safety, then held a mountain pass with a small band of warriors. His body was never found among the fallen.

The Standard of Ten Thousand Spears

Rusted spearheads from a long-dead battlefield hang from this heavy war standard. When raised, the songs of both armies fill the air, each telling its own version of the battle. Orc chiefs hid the standard after too many leaders tried to change the truth it carried.

The Bone Horn of the Howling Legion

This pale horn was carved from the bone of a great beast and bound with black iron. When sounded, it calls the spirits of warriors who died protecting others. The Legion chooses which causes it will answer and last appeared when ghostly hands tore down a fortress gate.

The Bloodtrail Spear

This barbed hunting spear was carried by clan-judges who hunted oathbreakers across wasteland and winter. Once the spear tastes a creature’s blood, that quarry leaves a trail through storm, darkness, and wild country. The spear vanished during a hunt whose ending was removed from every surviving song.

Goblin

Goblins have survived in places other peoples abandoned, buried, or forgot.

Their communities often grow beneath old cities, inside ruined fortresses, and among tunnels left behind by fallen kingdoms. Goblins are skilled at repairing broken tools, reshaping discarded objects, and finding value in things others have thrown away. A cracked shield may become a roof, a ruined statue may become a watchtower, and an old prison may become a thriving home.

Goblin stories remember ruins from below. They preserve which rulers sealed old chambers, where forgotten foundations lie, and what still moves beneath streets declared safe. These tales are often filled with jokes, arguments, and wild details, though the warnings hidden inside them are usually worth hearing.

Even an abandoned goblin settlement rarely feels empty. Its bells, traps, machines, and watching figures may continue their work long after the builders have gone.

“Nothing is useless. Some things are only waiting for a cleverer owner.”

—Nikka Brass-Ear, Queen of the Nine Cellars

The Ring of a Hundred Keys

Hundreds of mismatched keys hang from this heavy iron ring, taken from prisons, vaults, temples, and royal chambers across Eclura. A key changes shape when placed against a lock it can open. The ring vanished with a goblin queen who broke into the treasury beneath the oldest city.

The Bell of the Scrap Cathedral

This cracked bronze bell was cast from broken holy symbols and fragments of ruined temple bells. When struck, it calls the attention of spirits and forgotten powers once worshipped nearby. The Bell disappeared after something beneath the Scrap Cathedral answered its final toll.

The Coat of Endless Pockets

This patched leather coat contains far more pockets than its size should allow. Each pocket keeps its contents safe, dry, and exactly where the wearer remembers placing them. The coat was last worn by a goblin thief who escaped an emperor’s vault carrying everything inside it.

The Knife of Last Claim

This jagged black knife was forged from a royal sword found broken in a refuse pit. Words carved into its blade declare that anything abandoned belongs to whoever has the courage to take it. The knife cuts through chains, seals, and magic used to bind an object to an unworthy owner.

Nikka’s Brass Ear

This small brass device hooks behind the ear and trembles near working machines, buried chambers, and creatures moving through stone. It can separate whispered speech from the noise of a crowded city and hear the smallest flaw inside a mechanism. Nikka Brass-Ear vanished while listening beneath the Nine Cellars.

Lizardfolk

Lizardfolk stories reach back beyond the first human kingdoms, to an age when many rivers followed different courses and wide marshes covered lands that are dry today. Their oldest settlements rose among floodplains, jungles, deltas, and warm stone valleys where life changed with every season.

Many lizardfolk see history as a cycle of growth, decay, shedding, and renewal. A city may sink beneath the marsh and still remain part of its people’s story. An old custom may disappear for generations before returning in a new form. What survives is carried forward, while what has ended is allowed to pass away.

Knowledge is preserved through carved bone, painted scales, funerary masks, and journeys repeated at the same time each year. Many ancient sites now lie beneath water or thick roots, and some rise into view only during drought. The oldest legends speak of ancestors who could shed one body and take another.

“The river does not mourn the skin it carried yesterday.”

—Ssaresh of the Reed Crown

The Lantern of Ssarun

This bronze lantern was carried through the flooded streets of Ssarun during the city’s final night. Its green flame burns underwater and shines through mud, fog, and poisoned air. The Lantern vanished after the last city keeper descended beneath the drowned palace.

The Egg of First Scale

This stone egg is covered in carvings that grow more complex each time it is studied. Lizardfolk tradition claims it holds the memory of the first ancestor to shed one body and take another. Several cults believe the Egg will hatch when Eclura is ready to change.

The Spear of the Reed Judge

This long spear is wrapped in living reeds that never dry or break. It was carried by judges who settled disputes between tribes, river spirits, and the dead. The spear disappeared when its final bearer entered a poisoned wetland and never returned.

The Basin of Cold Renewal

This shallow stone basin fills with clear water when placed beneath the open sky. Those who rest within its waters are said to shed poison, disease, and supernatural corruption with a thin layer of old skin. The Basin was stolen from a healing temple during a season of plague.

The Mask of the Molting King

This scaled funerary mask changes shape to match the face of its wearer. It once belonged to a ruler who promised to return in a new body when the lizardfolk faced destruction. The mask was recovered from a tomb found open from the inside.

Infernal

Infernals carry the marks of ancient contact with the Hells.

Some descend from families that entered willing pacts, while others inherited the cost of curses, occupations, and bargains made in desperate times. Infernal traits appear differently across each bloodline. Horns, unusual eyes, tails, ash-darkened skin, or a faint heat beneath the flesh may reveal the old connection.

An Infernal’s choices belong to them, though the Hells rarely respect that freedom. Devils may still treat a broken agreement as law, even centuries after everyone who signed it has died. Some Infernals discover their names written in contracts made before their birth, along with duties, debts, and punishments they never agreed to carry.

Infernal history is filled with people who fought to escape these claims. Others studied the power within their blood and turned it against the beings who believed they owned it.

“An inherited debt is still a debt only if you agree to pay it.”

—Velis Ashborn, Advocate of the Unbound

The Cinder Ledger

This heavy black book contains contracts, secret names, and testimonies written upon pages that cannot burn. Its records reveal bargains made across Eclura, including the agreements broken by the Hells themselves. The Ledger vanished after its final keeper used it to condemn an Arch Devil.

The Ashen Contract

This charred sheet of parchment promises freedom to every descendant named within its surviving lines. The final signatures and the price of that freedom were torn away long ago. Infernal agents have destroyed entire cities while searching for the missing pieces.

The Chains of Vael Khar

These black iron chains once bound prisoners carried between Eclura and the Hells. They move at the command of their bearer and tighten around devils, oathbreakers, and creatures held by infernal law. The Chains disappeared during a revolt that left the fortress of Vael Khar empty.

The Armor of Burned Oaths

This dark suit of plate was forged from rings, seals, and chains taken from broken infernal contracts. Flames move across its surface when the wearer protects someone bound against their will. The armor vanished with a mortal ruler who freed thousands from the Hells.

The Mirror of Infernal Memory

This cracked black mirror holds the memories of bargains, betrayals, and promises spoken before it. When touched, its surface reveals pieces of what happened nearby, though every answer follows the exact words of the question. The Mirror was last owned by an advocate who won a trial against a devil and disappeared that same night.