The compass spun today. Actually spun. Like a top. Made the ship's boy laugh. Then it stopped. Pointed straight down into the hold.

The needle is pointing to a sunken city that doesn't exist on any map. Because it exists between maps. The city is the corpse of the First Navigator, a giant whose bones are lodestone. Whoever reaches the heart of the city can recalibrate one compass in the world—just one—to always point true.

What matters is this:

The compass is back to pointing at my heart.

We opened the crates. Inside: nothing but mirrors. Each one showed a different version of us. In one, I was king. In another, I was drowning. In the third, I was smiling.

But the city is guarded by the : ghosts of dead explorers, each one convinced they are the real north.

A Supplement for Nautical & Post-Calamity Campaigns Version 1.0 | Required: Broken Compass Core Rulebook CHAPTER 1: THE CALAMITY "The needle doesn't spin anymore. It just hangs there, limp, like a hanged man's tongue. Points to what it wants. Sometimes north. Sometimes your heart. Sometimes the grave." — Captain Sorensen, Last of the Compass Guild Fifty years ago, the Magnetic Alignment shattered. No one knows why. The old gods? A weapon from the Drowned War? A sneeze from a sleeping leviathan? It doesn't matter.

I haven't smiled in ten years.

The party must stand in a circle, each holding a different "north" (a memory, a desire, a fear). The Echo Compasses will attack anyone who hesitates. The only way to win? Admit you are lost. CHAPTER 4: SAMPLE JOURNAL PAGE (Player Handout) Day 47 of the Ash-Transit.

We threw the mirrors overboard. But this morning, I looked at my reflection in my coffee. I was smiling.

Engraved on the cylinder: "Point me toward what I have forgotten."