A crude effigy forms in your grasp, its stitched limbs stiff. As the blade pierces fabric, unseen flesh sears, distant cries echo. The doll smolders where you strike, its torment mirrored upon the cursed soul.
| # | Type | Name |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Passive Ability | Trollfolk Provanance |
These sliders set site audio only, so you can mix against Discord and other apps (phone volume still caps everything).