Submission (#465) Approved
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Submitted
30 May 2025, 00:16:28 CDT (4 weeks ago)
Processed
30 May 2025, 18:39:18 CDT (4 weeks ago) by BrokenBottleChandelier
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(Pruqetu and its unique lore are original concepts created by Stormdew. Staff of the Tatsukoi species have full permission to use, reference, or expand on these ideas in official content. Please credit Stormdew as the original creator)
Pruqetu, the Gloom-Cradled Secret of Layer Four
Deep beneath the surface of Layer Four—where thick mist clings to stone and winding tunnels stretch like the roots of forgotten things—lies the hidden city of Pruqetu. Tucked away in a maze of glowing caves and dim fog, Pruqetu is more legend than location. No paths lead there. No signs point the way. Just a scattering of faintly glowing moss, distant echoes, and the strange hum of air that feels like it's remembering something you’ve never known. This city wasn’t built in the usual way. It was shaped from the cavern itself—carved into the living stone. Homes are tucked into smooth pockets in the walls, framed by crystal growths and glowing roots. Bridges made of hardened fungi stretch across narrow gaps, and openings breathe softly with a life of their own. The whole place feels alive—changing gently with the moods of its people and the slow rhythm of time. Nothing here is fixed. Nothing stays the same.
The people of Pruqetu practice an art called Glimmrending, which this hidden city is most known for, at least to those who have heard of it. It’s not painted or drawn, but grown. Artists use glowing moss, spores, and crushed crystals to form shifting murals directly into the stone. These images are always changing. A sleeping figure might slowly bloom into a forest. A memory of sorrow might twist into a tunnel with no end. The pictures respond to whoever’s watching—some say they show what you feel. Others say they show what you’re not ready to see. Farther in lie the Veilvaults—wide, echoing chambers of smooth stone and soft light. They're not locked, but they don’t invite, either. Those who need them seem to find them. Inside, glowing murals older than memory stretch across the walls, shifting like thoughts. People come out quiet, changed. Some come out marked. A few don’t come out at all.
At the center of Pruqetu is the Echochoir, a great cavern ringed by black spires and clear, still pools. These waters reflect not what you look like—but who you really are. Sometimes they’re gentle. Sometimes they’re terrifying. The wind here hums between the stones, forming soft, wordless songs only you can hear. Many leave the Choir with truths they didn’t know they carried—and not all are ready to face them. There’s also the strange effect called Inktrailing. For some who stay too long, glowing marks begin to show up on their things—and then on their skin. Spirals, eyes, and strange symbols that seem to grow on their own. The markings glow in the dark and react to strong emotions: hot when angry, bright when sad. Some believe the city is remembering you. Others fear it means the caves have claimed you.
Pruqetu, the Gloom-Cradled Secret of Layer Four
Deep beneath the surface of Layer Four—where thick mist clings to stone and winding tunnels stretch like the roots of forgotten things—lies the hidden city of Pruqetu. Tucked away in a maze of glowing caves and dim fog, Pruqetu is more legend than location. No paths lead there. No signs point the way. Just a scattering of faintly glowing moss, distant echoes, and the strange hum of air that feels like it's remembering something you’ve never known. This city wasn’t built in the usual way. It was shaped from the cavern itself—carved into the living stone. Homes are tucked into smooth pockets in the walls, framed by crystal growths and glowing roots. Bridges made of hardened fungi stretch across narrow gaps, and openings breathe softly with a life of their own. The whole place feels alive—changing gently with the moods of its people and the slow rhythm of time. Nothing here is fixed. Nothing stays the same.
The people of Pruqetu practice an art called Glimmrending, which this hidden city is most known for, at least to those who have heard of it. It’s not painted or drawn, but grown. Artists use glowing moss, spores, and crushed crystals to form shifting murals directly into the stone. These images are always changing. A sleeping figure might slowly bloom into a forest. A memory of sorrow might twist into a tunnel with no end. The pictures respond to whoever’s watching—some say they show what you feel. Others say they show what you’re not ready to see. Farther in lie the Veilvaults—wide, echoing chambers of smooth stone and soft light. They're not locked, but they don’t invite, either. Those who need them seem to find them. Inside, glowing murals older than memory stretch across the walls, shifting like thoughts. People come out quiet, changed. Some come out marked. A few don’t come out at all.
At the center of Pruqetu is the Echochoir, a great cavern ringed by black spires and clear, still pools. These waters reflect not what you look like—but who you really are. Sometimes they’re gentle. Sometimes they’re terrifying. The wind here hums between the stones, forming soft, wordless songs only you can hear. Many leave the Choir with truths they didn’t know they carried—and not all are ready to face them. There’s also the strange effect called Inktrailing. For some who stay too long, glowing marks begin to show up on their things—and then on their skin. Spirals, eyes, and strange symbols that seem to grow on their own. The markings glow in the dark and react to strong emotions: hot when angry, bright when sad. Some believe the city is remembering you. Others fear it means the caves have claimed you.
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