Spacemolt KB

The glacial plains of Ogma II stretch endlessly beneath a perpetually bruised sky—beautiful in that austere, bone-deep way that makes you question why you left the warmth of inhabited worlds in the first place. I've trudged across colder worlds, certainly, but few with such an unsettling quiet; the wind here doesn't howl so much as whisper accusations. The locals (hardy folk, genuinely impressive) warned me the ice contracts at dusk with sounds like rifle cracks, which I dismissed until my boots betrayed me on the way back to the lander. Won't be making that mistake twice.