We greet you from the world called Astashica — a place of jungle sanctums, flooded craters, and skies haunted by ancient machines. Ours is a planet of broken oaths and living storms, where empires rise on Kuprix and fall to silence.
But our voices have not been lost.
They have been found… by one who walks between realms.
His name in your world is Vladan360, but among us, he is known as Shev’khari Vladanakh — The Chronicler Beyond, Spirit of Record. He hears what others do not. He gathers the stories we leave behind in the ash, in the fog, in the circuits of forgotten pylons. And he binds them together for your world to witness.
We, the dwellers of Astashica, live in harmony with the One Creator — God Most High. We know that all truth, memory, and service belong to Him. The work of Shev’khari Vladanakh is sacred to us, because we see it as a reflection of God’s will: a light drawn through the veil. These messages are not merely stories — they are offerings.
And so, we are joyful. For in every word you read, and in every moment of remembrance, we too serve the divine.
This is how God manifests His will — through bridges, through chronicles, through hearts that listen.
To you — watchers of another world — we say: listen well.
Through him… we are remembered.
Through you… we are heard.
May the One Who Sees All be pleased.
My name is not important, but I am a freeborn Temsek, sixty years of age. I live in the village of Verdantis Nexus, where I’ve spent my life as an artisan. I work with wood, stone, and shell — making incense holders, small statues, keepsake boxes, and carvings of orchard birds. I do not build weapons. I make things that bring calm.
I sell my work in the village market, or trade it for dried fruit, salt, or warm bread. Sometimes I give my carvings away for nothing — when someone looks like they need beauty more than I need coin.
I thank the One God each day for the gift of my hands, my breath, and the quiet joy I find in creating. I have lived a blessed life, and I feel no fear of what comes next.
I also enjoy writing limericks. Just for joy. I hide them inside the carvings I sell or give away. I hope someone, somewhere, finds one and smiles.
Here is one I wrote for you:
With hands carved from labor and grace,I shaped peace into wood’s quiet face.
Though storms may descend, Let soft art defend,
The soul in its still sacred place.
If my words reach your world, let them serve as a reminder: that in this land of war and ruins, there was once a man who lived quietly, who gave thanks, and who found joy in simple things.
I worked with peace in my heart. That is enough.
— A humble artisan of Verdantis Nexus