Witsteen
People lying face-down on the cobbles of a town square at noon, below a broken, sunlit stone wall

A dark fantasy card game from Witsteen

In this land, nobody looks up. Someone in your house will have to.

On PC. Steam and Epic first.

Nobody has met a god’s eyes in a thousand years.

The back of something vast breaks dark water in curved ridges of white bone. Where its eye would be, the picture is scratched out.

The gods did not die. They emptied, and they lie waiting under the water.

A heavy-set man lowers his eyes as he carries a woman whose arms and legs have turned to white bone

The laws every town keeps

Keep your head down.

A giant cracked with white bone wades a flooded town, a great hammer across the shoulders, eyes on the water

Do not stare at the changed.

Some of them looked. Bone breaks through the skin, and the people keep their heads down when one of them passes.

Someone with arms of white bone has broken through a barred door. The padlock still hangs from the splintered wood.
A hand of white bone rests on an open book
A knuckle of white bone the size of a man’s chest lies in an open casket lined with black

What happens at noon

Withheld. Only a few words of this page can be read: in secret, and the god becomes.

Look at no one.

They are at war.

Do not look up.

The chest of something vast and white, seated above the treeline, its head above the edge of the picture. Below it a man lifts his face toward it.

Money buys looks. Never power.

A stern man holds up a pair of scales, a shard of white bone on one pan and iron weights on the other
A huge grey-haired man with a mantle of white bone on one shoulder, his back to us and his head turned away.

Keep watch.

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