From the depths of the tempest, a single set of dice has emerged. Hand-poured in pale grey resin, its heart churns with storm-dark clouds, captured mid-roar. Each edge has been sharpened, sanded, and polished by hand, each number carefully inked in a shifting metallic oil-slick gleam — like lightning glinting in distant thunderheads.
This is no ordinary set. It is a storm bottled in seven perfect pieces: d4, d6, d8, d10, d%, d12, and a razor-sharp d20 — each one unique, never to be made again.
For those who tempt fate and thrive in chaos. For those who roll in the eye of the storm. For those who know that destiny should look as dangerous as it feels.
Claim this set — or let it drift back into the clouds forever.
