It lurks on the edge of most maps/any map/every map, a festering sore/wound/gash on reality. They say laughter died in Grimsville long ago/recently/sometime. A creeping chill/sorrow/despair hangs over the place, making even the sun look sick/appear dull/seem to weep. The buildings are twisted/broken/bent, their windows like vacant eyes/staring into

Many claim to feel these whispers, faint traces of those who have passed. Some attribute them to the power of suggestion, while others swear by that they are genuine messages from the great beyond. These whispers {can be heard inempty rooms, or felt as a unexplained presence. Often, these spectral voices offer clues to past lives. Are they powerful