Experience the dungeons of nothnor

Amos had once been a professional rugby player for Scotland’s national team—a proud position he managed to lose due to what officials generously labeled “unnecessary roughness.” (Amos preferred the term “enthusiastic commitment.”)

Unfortunately, his enthusiasm continued. Over time, he was politely escorted off three additional rugby club teams, each parting ways with him after spirited disagreements about what constitutes “sportsmanship.”

Just when it seemed his career had flatlined, fate—or perhaps mild desperation—intervened. He received a phone call from one Thaddeus Thabletop, who offered him a position as the school gym coach in Trollsbridge, Tennessee.

Under normal circumstances, Amos would have laughed and hung up. But given that his girlfriend had just left him—and taken the dog, the traitor—he decided a fresh start sounded better than sulking in an empty flat.

So he tossed his duffle bag over his shoulder, muttered something heroic (and slightly bitter), and crossed the pond in search of redemption… or at least a whistle and a new group of students who hadn’t yet read his disciplinary record.

Carl Fieldhouse is sixteen, mathematically unstoppable, and socially powered by dice rolls and caffeine. Born and raised in Philadelphia, he can calculate probability curves in his head—but ask him to calculate his excitement about moving to Trollsbridge and you’ll get a negative integer.

When his parents trade city chaos for a quiet general store in small-town Tennessee, Carl negotiates the only deal that matters full basement control. What begins as “a game room” quickly becomes a four-chambered nerd sanctuary—each themed for a different genre, from high fantasy to sci-fi apocalypse.

He may not have chosen Trollsbridge, but between his legendary campaign builds and his strategic dominance at the local comic shop and arcade, the town is about to learn one thing:

Never underestimate the quiet kid who understands both calculus and critical hits.

Robert O’Brien is fifty-six, compact in stature, and built with the quiet durability of a Navy-issue toolbox. The son of an Irish Master Chief and a Spanish mother who crossed an ocean for love, Robert grew up on sea stories, discipline, and the comforting hum of ship engines.

Naturally, he followed in his father’s footsteps, serving proudly in the U.S. Navy and living the life of a true boat man—salt in the air, steel under his boots, and coffee strong enough to refloat a submarine.

After retiring from the service, Robert drifted from town to town, picking up odd jobs like souvenirs, until one strange twist of fate anchored him in Trollsbridge. Now he serves as the janitor of the town’s “renowned and mostly unknown” museum—quietly polishing floors, fixing what shouldn’t be broken, and noticing far more than anyone realizes.

Because when you’ve spent decades at sea, very little on land truly surprises you.

Kaity is twenty-two year old, already living the musician’s dream—touring Europe with her Sarasota-based string quartet and finally tasting the spotlight. Their debut world tour was soaring… until fate decided to rewrite the itinerary.

Midway through their victory lap across Europe, a message arrived: a major record label wanted them in Nashville to record their most beloved piece. Cue the triumphant return to the States—landing in Boston, cramming into a rental van, and aiming straight for Tennessee like destiny had GPS.

And then—flat tire.

Stranded in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it town called Trollsbridge, Kaity found herself in a quiet hotel lobby, violin case at her side, when a peculiar little old man struck up a conversation. He spoke of destiny with unsettling confidence and mentioned he “just so happened” to need a violinist for the grand opening of a new exhibit at the local museum. Just one night, he promised. He would personally see them to Nashville afterward.

Kaity had performed in cathedrals and concert halls across Europe. But somehow, the smallest stage in the smallest town felt like the one she wasn’t meant to miss.

Lillian Stackhouse is twenty-five, armed with a PhD in Botany from UC Davis, and possesses the rare ability to get genuinely excited about moss. Born in Everett, Washington, and now settled near Spokane, she spends her days trekking between the U.S. and Canada studying rare herbs, medicinal plants, and the quiet secrets of the forest floor. If it grows in the shade and looks suspiciously magical, she probably has a field journal about it.

So when a mysterious package arrived containing an unidentified species of moss—postmarked from a place called Trollsbridge—Lillian did what any reasonable plant scientist would do.

She grabbed her notes, loaded up her old pickup truck, tossed her dog into the passenger seat, and headed straight toward botanical uncertainty.Because to Lillian, a strange town is concerning.

But undocumented moss?     

 That’s irresistible.

Philip Steinman is thirty-two, equipped with a computer, a head of untamable black curls, and a brain that runs faster than most supercomputers. Born and raised in Fall River, Massachusetts, he grew up on comic books, video games, and the firm belief that if you’re going to cosplay steampunk… the gadgets should actually work.

Now a behavioral software engineer for advanced robotics in Quincy, Philip writes the code that teaches machines how to think. Adapt. Evolve.

Which is why, when something he built starts whispering things no machine should know, he does what any rational genius would do: ignores corporate warnings, loads up his portable tech rig, holsters his fully functional steampunk .50 caliber handgun (yes, it works—he built it), and follows the anomaly straight to Trollsbridge, Tennessee.

Philip doesn’t believe in fate.

He believes in patterns.

And whatever is happening in Trollsbridge?

It fits a pattern.

Brunhilda is forty-seven years old, forged in a small town outside Buffalo, and built like a cathedral—strong, steady, and impossible to ignore. Of proud German and Austrian descent, she has raised nine children of her own and unofficially adopted about forty more from the neighborhood. If you were ever hungry, heartbroken, or in need of correction, her front door was open.

Her hugs can reset your spine. Her cooking can restore your faith in humanity. And her famous line—“The Board of Education never hurt anyone; if applied the seat of learning with love”—is usually delivered with a knowing smile and a firm grip on a French rolling pin.

When the last of her children finally grew up and her house grew quiet (a development she did not entirely trust), Brunhilda felt a stirring in her soul. So when an opportunity arose to relocate to Trollsbridge, Tennessee—where a certain museum, school, and town in general seemed in dire need of structure, nourishment, and possibly baked goods—she packed her great-grandmother’s cookbook, slung her rolling pin into a travel bag, and headed south.

Trollsbridge may not know it yet…

But it’s about to be very well-fed.

Timothy Wilton is forty-nine, gloriously hard to categorize, and sharper than the 8-inch chef’s knife he treats like an extension of his personality. A cultural blend by birth and a culinary force by training, he graduated from the Culinary Institute of America—not at the top of his class, mind you, but only because talent and humility rarely shared the same kitchen when he was around. Skill? Impeccable. Attitude? Seasoned generously.

After graduation, he traveled the world, cooking everywhere from dimly lit hole-in-the-wall kitchens to glittering Michelin-star establishments. He can dice an onion in seconds, throw a knife across a room with unsettling accuracy, and craft a dish so perfectly balanced it feels like edible diplomacy.

Despite his reputation (and mild tendency to argue with authority), he became one of the most sought-after chefs on the circuit. So when his mentor, the legendary Chef Bonita, personally recommended him to Thaddeus for the grand opening of Trollsbridge Museum’s Egyptian Exhibition, Timothy accepted—intrigued by the challenge of creating an Egyptian fusion feast worthy of history.

He came for one event.

He brought his knives.

And Trollsbridge is about to discover that flavor can be both art… and a contact sport.