Smallfolk of Trisurus

Every civilization builds monuments. The smallfolk build communities. Across the three worlds of the Trisurus system, the species gathered in this entry (halflings, gnomes, kender, and a handful of lesser-known peoples from collapsed spheres) share no common ancestry and would bristle at being grouped together solely by height. What they share is a talent for making themselves indispensable. They run the restaurants, maintain the archives, repair the engines, tend the gardens, and tell the stories that remind everyone else why the system is worth saving. They are not the loudest voices in any room, but they are frequently the ones that matter most.

The smallfolk represent a combined population of roughly three hundred and fifty million across the Trisurus system, modest by the standards of humans or elves but disproportionately influential in commerce, culture, and the everyday machinery of civilization. Where larger species build for scale, the smallfolk build for connection.

Halfling

Origin: Native to Trisurus (with refugee communities from twelve collapsed spheres)

Population: ~160 million across the system. 70 million on Verdania, 55 million on Trisurus Prime, 25 million on Aelios, 10 million distributed across Fleet vessels, orbital stations, and deep-space habitats.

Languages: Common, Halfling. Many Verdanian halflings speak three or more refugee languages, picked up through the hospitality networks that define their culture.

Ask a halfling where home is and you will get a story, not a coordinate. That impulse, the need to answer every question with a narrative, to embed every fact in context, to make meaning through telling, runs deeper in halfling culture than any other single trait. Halflings are the storytellers of Trisurus. Not exclusively, not officially, but so consistently and so well that the association has become civilizational bedrock. The Halfling Oral Archive on Trisurus Prime, a living repository of spoken histories maintained by over ten thousand volunteer narrators, preserves accounts from more collapsed spheres than any written database. When a world dies, it is often a halfling who carries its last story into exile.

That instinct for narrative grows from something older: a community architecture so deeply embedded in halfling biology and culture that isolating a halfling from their people is considered a form of cruelty. Halfling communities organize around extended kinship networks called hearth-circles, groups of forty to two hundred individuals who share meals, childcare, resources, and above all, stories. A hearth-circle is not a family in the strict biological sense, though families form their core. It is a social organism, a collective identity maintained through daily acts of hospitality, mutual obligation, and the endless, deliberate sharing of experience. Halflings who travel alone maintain their hearth-circle connection through regular correspondence, recorded story-sendings, and an almost compulsive need to bring gifts back when they return.

This community architecture made halflings natural settlement builders when the refugee crisis transformed Verdania. Where hill dwarves designed integration infrastructure, halflings provided something harder to engineer: the social glue that turns strangers into neighbors. Halfling-run hospitality houses (part inn, part community center, part informal counseling service) operate in every major refugee settlement on Verdania and in most districts of Luminar. They serve food from fifty different worlds, maintain bulletin boards in dozens of languages, and function as the first point of contact for displaced peoples who need a meal, a bed, and someone willing to listen. The food is always excellent. Halflings regard a mediocre meal as a minor moral failing.

On Aelios, halflings fill roles that require precision, patience, and manual dexterity in environments designed for larger hands. Halfling artificers specialize in micro-scale enchantment, detail finishing, and the calibration of instruments too delicate for standard construct manipulators. The joke on Aelios is that dwarves build the engine, goliaths install it, and halflings make it actually work. Like most good jokes, it contains an uncomfortable quantity of truth.

Halfling political influence operates laterally rather than vertically. No halfling has ever held a seat on the Council of Spheres, and few seek positions of formal authority. Their power runs through the hospitality networks, the storytelling guilds, the community kitchens, and the vast informal economy of favors and relationships that halflings maintain with the same meticulous care other species devote to financial portfolios. A halfling restaurateur in Luminar may wield more practical influence than most senators, not through authority but through the simple fact that everyone important eats at her table and tells her things while they do.

Halfling cuisine deserves mention as a cultural force in its own right. The halfling culinary tradition prizes adaptation and fusion, taking ingredients from disparate worlds and finding the combinations that make them sing together. The best halfling chefs are treated as artists across Trisurus, and the annual Festival of Tables on Verdania, a three-day culinary competition organized entirely by halfling hearth-circles, draws visitors from across the system. Halflings eat six meals a day and consider this entirely reasonable.

Current Issues: The refugee crisis has stretched halfling hospitality networks to their limits. Hearth-circles on Verdania report compassion fatigue, a condition halflings find deeply shameful and therefore rarely discuss openly. The Halfling Oral Archive has also flagged a quieter crisis: the rate of sphere collapse now exceeds the archive's capacity to record dying worlds' stories, meaning some civilizations are being lost without anyone to carry their narratives forward.

Names:
Feminine: Anise, Blythe, Clover, Darcy, Elspeth, Fable, Gemma, Hazel, Iris, Josie, Kenna, Lark, Maple, Nutmeg, Opal, Petra, Quinn, Rue, Sorrel, Tansy
Masculine: Alton, Benny, Cal, Dorian, Emmet, Fletcher, Gale, Hobson, Ira, Jasper, Kit, Lyle, Moss, Nolan, Otto, Puck, Reed, Sage, Thatch, Wells
Neutral: Bramble, Cricket, Dew, Fern, Haven, Juniper, Luck, Pebble, Wicker, Yarrow
Surnames/Clan Names: Applewood, Barleybright, Briarfoot, Butterfield, Copperhill, Dewhollow, Fairweather, Greenhollow, Hearthstone, Kettlebrook, Larkspur, Merryweather, Nutfield, Overhill, Pebblebright, Rosethatch, Silverstream, Tallfield, Underhill, Willowmere

Kender

Origin: Refugee (Krynnspace Sphere, ~1,200 years ago)
Population: ~2.5 million. 1.8 million on Verdania, 500,000 on Trisurus Prime, 200,000 scattered elsewhere.
Languages: Common, Halfling (adopted), Kenderspeak (a rapid-fire dialect from their home sphere that other species find exhausting to follow)

The kender arrived from the Krynnspace Sphere twelve hundred years ago, and Trisurus has not been the same since. They look like halflings at a glance, similar stature and similar build, but the resemblance dissolves the moment one opens their mouth, which is immediately and at considerable volume. Kender are fearless. Not brave, which implies the recognition and mastery of fear, but genuinely, neurologically fearless, a trait their species developed in a home sphere where curiosity was rewarded by ambient magical fields and fear was literally suppressed by the planar energies that suffused their world. When Krynnspace collapsed and the kender were evacuated to Trisurus, they retained the fearlessness but lost the magical context that made it adaptive.

The result is a species that approaches Trisuran civilization the way a child approaches a toy shop, with boundless enthusiasm, zero impulse control, and an absolute conviction that everything is interesting and most of it should be picked up, examined, and possibly pocketed. Kender do not steal. They will insist on this with complete sincerity while holding your chronometer, which somehow found its way into their pouch. The kender concept of property is communal in a way that predates their arrival in Trisurus: in Krynnspace, objects circulated freely through communities, and holding onto something too long was considered selfish. Trisuran law enforcement spent the first century after their arrival trying to prosecute kender for theft before the Consortium's cultural integration board formally recognized "handling" as a protected cultural practice, provided the items were returned upon request.

Kender on Verdania have found an unlikely calling in refugee integration. Their utter lack of fear makes them willing to walk into situations that would paralyze other social workers: volatile camps, hostile communities, dangerous transitional zones. Their relentless friendliness, while sometimes grating, has a remarkable capacity to disarm tension. A kender integration specialist once defused a three-way territorial standoff between refugee factions by wandering into the middle of it and loudly asking if anyone knew a good recipe for spiced tubers. It worked. Nobody could explain why.

Current Issues: Kender population growth has stalled. Scholars believe the ambient magic of Krynnspace played a role in kender fertility that Trisurus cannot replicate. The community is small enough that this decline, if it continues, represents an existential concern within a few centuries.

Names:
Feminine: Brissa, Dallya, Gretta, Juniper, Maplewick, Paxina, Starla, Tasslehana, Whimsy
Masculine: Borin, Earwig, Figgle, Kronin, Peregrin, Tarble, Trapspringer, Whistledown, Yosef
Neutral: Clink, Gadget, Ponder, Rummage, Tinker
Surnames/Clan Names: Burrfoot, Furrfoot, Lockpicker, Riddlesworth, Springheel, Thistleknot, Trapspringer, Wanderlust

Gnome (Rock and Forest)

Origin: Native to Trisurus (with refugee communities from eight collapsed spheres)
Population: ~120 million combined. Rock gnomes: ~85 million (40M Aelios, 25M Trisurus Prime, 15M Verdania, 5M elsewhere). Forest gnomes: ~35 million (22M Verdania, 8M Trisurus Prime, 3M Aelios, 2M elsewhere).
Languages: Common, Gnomish. Rock gnomes on Aelios frequently speak Construct Cant. Forest gnomes on Verdania speak Sylvan and several druidic pidgins.

Two branches of the same species, and the argument about which branch matters more has been running for approximately nine thousand years with no sign of resolution.

Rock gnomes are the engineers. Walk through the calibration labs on Aelios and count the species: constructs, dwarves, and gnomes, in roughly that order. Rock gnome artificers designed the navigational arrays that guide Fleet vessels through wildspace, invented the resonance-crystal communication networks that connect the three worlds in real time, and hold more patents per capita than any other species in the system. Their minds operate at a frequency that other species find simultaneously impressive and exhausting; a rock gnome explaining a new device will talk for forty minutes without pausing for breath, diagram the mechanism on whatever surface is available (including walls, furniture, and occasionally bystanders) and then look hurt when the audience admits they stopped following at minute three.

The tinkering tradition is not hobbyism. Rock gnome culture treats invention as a spiritual practice, a way of understanding the universe by building small models of it and seeing what they do. Every rock gnome maintains a personal workshop regardless of their profession; lawyers, chefs, politicians, all of them tinker in their off hours. The workshops range from a corner shelf with a few tools to elaborate multi-room laboratories that consume entire residences. Gnomish neighborhoods on Aelios are loud, occasionally explosive, and filled with devices that do things nobody asked for but everyone eventually wants. The automatic tea-steeper that monitors ambient stress hormones and adjusts caffeine content accordingly was invented by a gnomish accountant in her spare time. It is now standard equipment in every Fleet vessel's officers' mess.

Forest gnomes share their cousins' intellectual intensity but direct it inward instead of outward, toward the natural world, toward illusion magic, toward the quiet observation of living systems. Where rock gnomes build machines, forest gnomes build relationships with ecosystems. On Verdania, forest gnome naturalists serve as some of the preserve system's most effective monitors, using innate illusion magic to observe wildlife without disturbing it and maintaining bonds with small animals that function as distributed biological sensor networks. A forest gnome ecologist can tell you the health of a forest by listening to what the squirrels are worried about.

The two traditions intersect more than either side admits. Rock gnomes on Aelios design the magitech systems that maintain Verdania's biodomes. Forest gnomes on Verdania use those systems daily. The annual Gnomish Symposium, held alternately on Aelios and Verdania, brings both branches together for a week of presentations, arguments, collaborative projects, and at least one spectacular accident involving an experimental device interacting unexpectedly with local wildlife. The Symposium is the most heavily insured academic event in the system.

Gnomish society organizes around clan-workshops, extended families defined as much by shared intellectual projects as by blood. A gnomish surname declares the clan's founding specialty, though clans frequently evolve beyond their original focus. The Gearspin clan began as clockmakers. They now design starship navigation arrays. The name persists because gnomes value continuity, even when everything else changes.

Politically, gnomes punch above their weight. Rock gnomes hold key positions in the Aelian industrial bureaucracy and in Fleet engineering corps. Forest gnomes wield influence through the druidic circles and environmental oversight boards on Verdania. Both branches tend toward moderate political positions, pragmatists who evaluate policy by whether it works, not whether it conforms to ideology.

Current Issues: The construct autonomy movement on Aelios has created unexpected complications for rock gnome artificers. Many constructs were originally designed by gnomish engineers, and as those constructs assert the right to modify their own designs, questions of intellectual property, creative legacy, and the ethics of building sentient beings have become deeply personal. Forest gnomes face a different pressure: Verdania's ecosystem strain means their monitoring work increasingly documents decline instead of health, a shift that weighs heavily on a subspecies that defines purpose through stewardship.

Names:
Rock Gnome Feminine: Astra, Calyx, Dazzle, Fizzara, Glim, Iva, Jinni, Kelda, Luma, Mirrix, Nyx, Orra, Penna, Rivet, Sola, Tazza, Uma, Volta, Wynn, Zella
Rock Gnome Masculine: Addix, Blitz, Caliber, Dex, Erlix, Fidget, Gizmo, Hix, Ignus, Jolt, Kelvin, Lumen, Mox, Nimbus, Ohm, Piston, Quartz, Rex, Spool, Torque, Wattson, Zinc
Forest Gnome Feminine: Acorn, Briar, Clover, Dewdrop, Elli, Fawn, Glade, Honeydew, Ilex, Lily, Meadow, Nettle, Orchid, Peony, Rill, Sequoia, Thyme, Violet, Wren, Zinnia
Forest Gnome Masculine: Ash, Bark, Birch, Cedar, Dune, Elm, Fern, Glen, Heath, Ivy, Jay, Kale, Leaf, Moss, Newt, Oak, Pine, Reed, Spruce, Thorn, Vale, Wren
Neutral: Burr, Cobalt, Ember, Filament, Gadget, Hazel, Lichen, Prism, Spark, Twig
Surnames/Clan Names: Bellowspring, Brasswheel, Cobblesprout, Crankpetal, Dustwhisper, Ferngear, Gearbloom, Hubspring, Ivybolt, Kettlevine, Leafcoil, Mossgear, Nettlespring, Pinecrank, Rootbolt, Springhollow, Thornwick, Vinewheel, Whistleroot, Willowcog

Deep Gnome (Svirfneblin)

Origin: Refugee (primarily from three Underdark-dominant collapsed spheres over the past 2,000 years)
Population: ~8 million. 4.5 million on Aelios, 2 million on Trisurus Prime (underground districts), 1.5 million on Verdania.
Languages: Common, Gnomish, Undercommon, Terran.

The deep gnomes do not talk about the worlds they lost. This is not trauma, though trauma certainly plays a role; it is cultural practice. Svirfneblin tradition holds that speaking a dead world's name gives power to whatever destroyed it, and so the three Underdark spheres that produced the Trisuran deep gnome population are referred to only by oblique epithets: the First Dark, the Gemfall, and the Hollow. Scholars have pieced together fragmentary histories, but the svirfneblin themselves offer only silence and a polite suggestion to mind one's own business.

What they brought from those dead darks was expertise. Deep gnomes are the Trisurus system's foremost underground engineers: miners, tunnelers, geologists, and gemcutters whose understanding of stone rivals the dwarves' and whose scale allows them to work veins and passages too narrow for larger species to access. On Aelios, svirfneblin crews operate in the deepest mining shafts, extracting rare minerals from geological formations that would defeat conventional equipment. Their innate connection to elemental earth allows them to sense fault lines, mineral deposits, and structural weaknesses through touch alone, a talent that Aelian mining operations consider irreplaceable.

Deep gnome communities are private, close-knit, and extraordinarily difficult to infiltrate socially. They live in carefully carved underground warrens that surface-dwellers are rarely invited to enter, and they conduct most of their social and commercial business through designated intermediaries instead of direct contact. This insularity is not hostility. Deep gnomes are perfectly cordial. They simply do not believe that every species needs to be involved in every conversation, and they see no reason to share more of themselves than function requires.

Their gemcutting traditions have made svirfneblin artisans among the most sought-after luxury craftspeople in the system. A deep gnome-cut gemstone carries a premium not because of superior technique alone, but because svirfneblin gemcutters imbue their work with subtle earth-magic that gives the finished stone a living quality: a warmth, a faint luminescence, a sense that the gem remembers being part of a mountain.

Current Issues: The expansion of Aelios's mining operations into increasingly deep and unstable geological formations has placed svirfneblin crews at disproportionate risk. Several recent shaft collapses have killed deep gnome miners, and the community's leaders have begun demanding enhanced safety protocols, a rare instance of svirfneblin engaging in public political advocacy.

Names:
Feminine: Beliss, Crysta, Durthé, Galena, Kressara, Lithine, Malachite, Obsidienne, Quartzine, Silka
Masculine: Bryndol, Carvex, Drumlok, Feldspar, Grannik, Jasperak, Lodestone, Morite, Schist, Tungsten
Neutral: Flint, Geode, Ore, Seam, Vein
Surnames/Clan Names: Brightvein, Deepcarve, Gemheart, Hollowstone, Lodekeeper, Mineralblood, Quartzdelve, Shardkeeper, Stonewhisper, Veinseeker

Jerbeen

Origin: Refugee (Alderheart Sphere, ~600 years ago)
Population: ~800,000. 650,000 on Verdania, 120,000 on Trisurus Prime, 30,000 elsewhere.
Languages: Common, Birdfolk Pidgin (a trade language from their home sphere), Halfling (adopted).

The jerbeen stand roughly two feet tall, weigh perhaps fifteen pounds soaking wet, and possess a collective courage that puts species ten times their size to shame. These mouse-folk arrived from the Alderheart Sphere six centuries ago, a small-forest world of towering trees and bird-dominated civilizations where the jerbeen occupied the undergrowth and survived through solidarity, speed, and an absolute refusal to be intimidated by anything larger than themselves, which was everything.

In Trisurus, the jerbeen community has settled primarily on Verdania, where their talent for small-scale agriculture and undergrowth management makes them valuable contributors to the preserve system. Jerbeen gardeners tend root systems, maintain ground-level biodiversity, and cultivate crops in spaces too cramped for larger species to work effectively. Their communal living structures, dense interconnected warrens that weave through the root systems of Verdanian forests, are marvels of efficient design, housing hundreds of individuals in spaces a human would consider a modest closet.

Jerbeen culture prizes collective action above individual achievement. A jerbeen who acts alone is considered reckless; a jerbeen who acts with their community is considered brave. The distinction matters enormously to them and confuses nearly everyone else.

Current Issues: The jerbeen population is small enough that cultural preservation has become a conscious project. Elders worry that integration into broader Trisuran society, which the younger generation embraces enthusiastically, will erode the communal traditions that define jerbeen identity.

Names:
Feminine: Della, Flit, Miri, Pipkin, Thistle
Masculine: Brin, Chet, Kip, Nibs, Tuck
Neutral: Button, Needle, Quick, Seed, Stitch
Surnames/Clan Names: Briarrun, Deepburrow, Rootweave, Seedkeeper, Underhollow

Hedge

Origin: Refugee (Alderheart Sphere, ~600 years ago)
Population: ~400,000. 350,000 on Verdania, 40,000 on Trisurus Prime, 10,000 elsewhere.
Languages: Common, Birdfolk Pidgin, Sylvan.

The hedge arrived alongside the jerbeen from the Alderheart Sphere, and where their mouse-folk neighbors brought courage, the hedge brought calm. These hedgehog-folk are herbalists, healers, and homebodies whose cultural center of gravity is the hearth: a warm fire, a simmering kettle, and a patient ear for whoever needs one. Hedge communities on Verdania operate some of the system's most respected traditional medicine practices, blending herbal knowledge from their home sphere with Trisuran botanical science to produce remedies that mainstream medicine grudgingly admits are remarkably effective.

Hedge prefer routine, comfort, and the company of close friends to adventure or ambition. They are not timid; a hedge protecting their community or their patients shows a stubbornness that their spiny exterior only hints at. But they see no virtue in seeking out danger when there are gardens to tend and teas to brew. Their neighborhoods are the quietest in any settlement, fragrant with drying herbs, and universally regarded as the best places to recover from illness, heartbreak, or simply a difficult week.

Current Issues: Hedge healers have reported increasing demand for their services among refugee populations suffering from ailments that Trisuran medicine struggles to treat: psychological wounds, cultural grief, and the somatic symptoms of displacement that resist technological intervention but respond to the hedge tradition of patient, personal care.

Names:
Feminine: Bramble, Clary, Dahlia, Nettle, Sorrel
Masculine: Basil, Gorse, Quill, Rowan, Wort
Neutral: Aster, Comfrey, Mallow, Sage, Yarrow
Surnames/Clan Names: Briarback, Hearthkettle, Meadowspine, Softquill, Willowbark

Erina

Origin: Refugee (Amaranthine Sphere, ~400 years ago)
Population: ~150,000. 120,000 on Verdania, 25,000 on Trisurus Prime, 5,000 elsewhere.
Languages: Common, Halfling (adopted), a clicking dialect from their home sphere that has no written form.

The erina look enough like the hedge to cause frequent confusion, which both species find mildly irritating. These hedgehog-like folk arrived from the Amaranthine Sphere two centuries after the hedge, and while the physical resemblance is striking, the cultural differences are significant. Where hedge are homebodies and healers, erina are traders and wanderers, nomadic merchants in their home sphere who traveled between settlements carrying goods, news, and a cheerful willingness to haggle over absolutely anything.

In Trisurus, erina have carved out a niche in the informal market economies that thrive alongside the mainstream. They trade in curiosities, rare ingredients, handcrafted goods, and cultural artifacts, items whose value lies not in scarcity but in story. An erina merchant does not sell you a spice blend; she sells you the tale of the collapsed sphere it came from, the refugee grandmother who preserved the recipe, and the specific sunset under which it was ground. The spice is incidental. The narrative is the product.

Current Issues: The erina population is small enough that intermarriage with hedge communities has become common, blurring the cultural boundary between the two species. Erina elders view this with alarm; younger erina view it as inevitable and not particularly troubling.

Names:
Feminine: Ambra, Fennela, Kessa, Mira, Rilla
Masculine: Bask, Drel, Grin, Nix, Puck
Neutral: Copper, Dusk, Flint, Trade, Wander
Surnames/Clan Names: Dustroad, Farmarket, Longtrail, Spicepouch, Wandervend

Kithkin

Origin: Refugee (Lorwyn-Shadowmoor Sphere, ~800 years ago)
Population: ~90,000. 50,000 on Trisurus Prime, 35,000 on Verdania, 5,000 elsewhere.
Languages: Common, Lorwyn Cant, Halfling (adopted).

The kithkin arrived with the Lorwyn-Shadowmoor elves eight hundred years ago, and they brought with them something no other species in Trisurus possesses: the thoughtweft. This shared emotional connection links kithkin within physical proximity to one another, creating a communal awareness that functions somewhere between telepathy and shared intuition. A kithkin does not merely know that her neighbor is frightened; she feels the fear as a pressure at the edge of her own consciousness, distinct from her own emotions but impossible to ignore. In a community of kithkin, individual feelings ripple outward through the thoughtweft until the group reaches a collective emotional equilibrium. Joy amplifies. Grief is shared and thereby lightened. Panic is soothed by the calm of those unaffected.

In the Lorwyn-Shadowmoor Sphere, the thoughtweft bound kithkin communities into cohesive defensive units capable of responding to threats with near-instantaneous collective action. In Trisurus, where physical threats are rare and emotional complexity is the more common challenge, the thoughtweft has become something stranger and more interesting. Kithkin neighborhoods in Luminar function as emotional commons, spaces where feelings are processed collectively instead of individually. Trisuran psychologists study these communities with fascination, noting that kithkin show significantly lower rates of depression, anxiety, and social isolation than any other species in the system. The thoughtweft does not prevent suffering. It ensures that no one suffers alone.

Integration into Trisuran civilization has posed unique challenges for a thoughtweft species. Kithkin in mixed-species environments must manage the boundary between their shared emotional awareness and the private emotional lives of non-kithkin neighbors. Most develop what they call "dampening," a learned skill that mutes the thoughtweft to a background hum when surrounded by outsiders. Young kithkin who have not yet mastered dampening sometimes react to emotions they sense from non-kithkin, creating social situations that range from touching to deeply awkward.

Like their Lorwyn-Shadowmoor elven co-refugees, kithkin once experienced the dual nature of their home sphere's cycle. In Lorwyn's daylight, the thoughtweft was warm, golden, communal. In Shadowmoor's darkness, it became suspicious, watchful, defensive. Modern kithkin, freed from the cycle, experience the thoughtweft as a stable blend of both aspects: a vigilant warmth, an alert compassion.

Current Issues: The kithkin population is critically small. At ninety thousand individuals, they are one of the smallest sapient communities in Trisurus, and the thoughtweft complicates reproduction outside the species; kithkin children require the emotional scaffolding of a kithkin community to develop properly, and mixed-species children rarely inherit the full thoughtweft. Community leaders are exploring whether magitech augmentation could extend the thoughtweft to non-kithkin partners and children, a proposal that divides the community sharply.

Names:

Feminine: Ashling, Brigid, Caitryn, Gwylla, Kinvara, Sorcha

Masculine: Callum, Declan, Fionnbar, Lorcan, Padraig, Seamus

Neutral: Cenn, Donal, Kin, Weft, Wren

Surnames/Clan Names: Bondspark, Goldmeadow, Hearthweft, Kinsbond, Meadowsong, Thoughthollow, Warmhearth, Weftweaver

See also: Collapsed Spheres Registry