In the quiet town of Onnette, colloquially referred to by its inhabitants as Marry Onnette, a veil of secrecy shrouds this idyllic township situated to the western fringes of the mysterious Nimbus Sea. Within Veargreum's borders, most citizens possess scant knowledge of this hamlet, their minds entertained only by vague whispers that paint a picture of a charming, joyful community. But, unbeknownst to all, this narrative is a sinister facade, for the town's true reality is bound to a malevolent force—the Dreamweaver.

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High above the cobblestone streets, ensconced in perpetual cloud cover, looms an immense cephalopod, an otherworldly entity of extraordinary proportions. Each of its sinuous tentacles is crowned with several bulbous, all-seeing eyes, sentinels that gazes eternally over the unsuspecting populace. Yet, when circumstances demand, these watchful eyes can detach, their forms morphing into a macabre fusion of bat-like wings and arachnid legs. With dimensions rivaling a grown adult, these eyes take flight, venturing nearer to the town and its inhabitants, collecting intelligence before reuniting with their central being.

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Beneath the veneer of apparent happiness lies a grim truth—the townsfolk are not masters of their own fates. Instead, they are ensnared in the insidious grasp of the Dreamweaver. Its tendrils extend to each citizen, affixing to the nape of their necks in a grotesque umbilical connection, complete with an ocular appendage. This nightmarish web overrides their thoughts and movements, rendering them puppets to the Dreamweaver's will.

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Only a mage of considerable prowess or one blessed with true sight could fathom the horror beneath the facade—a macabre scene where smiling visages are tethered by sinewy strings, each terminating in a grotesque eye mirroring the Dreamweaver's gaze. This ghastly puppetry serves to slowly siphon the victims' psychic essence, a process sustaining the Dreamweaver's sentience and preventing it from regressing into a primal, unintelligent state.

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The Dreamweaver's genesis lies in its primal origins—once mere beasts floating in the Nimbus Sea's misty depths. While most remain cloaked in the sea's shroud, Dreamweavers transcend their primitive nature by consuming the flesh of a sentient being. This dark awakening catalyzes their evolution, imbuing them with sapience, yet chaining them to an eternal hunger for cognitive energy.

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Onnette itself wears a peculiar facade, an amalgamation of orderly tidiness and antiquated design, untouched by progress. This atypical juxtaposition mirrors the Dreamweaver's centuries-long feasting upon the town, ensuring its visual aesthetic remains timeless, while also showcasing an eclectic blend of archaic and contemporary fashion—evidence of the varying lengths of its control over individuals.

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The Dreamweaver's sustenance hinges upon its prey's appearances. It discards decrepit puppets who through the decades have become mutated by its magic, maintaining the illusion of normalcy to deceive newcomers. An unholy covenant binds the creature with certain humanoids, sparing them its grasp in exchange for safeguarding the town from Veargreum's authorities and luring fresh victims. These agents inhabit positions of power, with even warlocks entering accords with the Dreamweaver, bartering their souls for dominance and shielding against its adversaries.

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Amid the town's eerie weather—persistent fog and cloud-draped skies—the Dreamweaver's manipulations continue. It fabricates clouds to obscure prying eyes and manipulates the climate, with thunderstorms heralding its wrath. As it feeds on psychic energy, it becomes privy to the intimate thoughts and personalities of its captives. This malevolent insight aids its masquerade, allowing it to impersonate missing loved ones and lull the unsuspecting into its clutches.

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Though this all seems like a horror to most, is it feeding with ill intent? Do the people here really desire more or is this an exchange with them rather than an attack on them?

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