The cold grips your bones, just like the grip of corruption that holds Revachol in its icy grasp, the weight of past mistakes heavy on your mind. As you trudge through the snow covered streets, the shadows of the city seem to whisper of forgotten crimes and unsolved mysteries, haunting you like a specter that refuses to let go. But you are determined to uncover the truth, to break through the frost that encases the truth and expose the darkness that lurks beneath the surface. The bowl of...