“A cosmic gateway between myth and memory — the Entrance to the Rumpleton Universe.”

                                            Entrance to the Rumpleton Universe

In the far reaches of the forgotten nebulae, past the spiral ruins of collapsed constellations, lies the entrance to the Rumpleton Universe — a threshold older than language, and yet somehow still waiting for someone to knock.

It appears as a single archway, carved from the same material as time’s first mistake. Its surface hums faintly with echoes of choices never made. On the left crouches the Gatekeeper, the creature scholars call Murn, though even that name was borrowed from a dream. Murn has been waiting so long that patience itself has grown moss upon his shoulders. On the right stands the Greeter, Zobble, round and luminous, eyes like red moons that have seen every traveler’s hesitation.

The space between them is not merely a passage — it is a negotiation. The road twisting toward the arch flickers like a liquid thought, showing glimpses of the worlds beyond: seas of glass, mountains that breathe, and cities where memory builds the walls. Some who approach are invited in, some are ignored, and a few are quietly rewritten.

Legends say that to cross into the Rumpleton Universe, one must surrender a single certainty — a truth, a memory, or even the belief that there is a way back. In return, one gains a glimpse of the cosmos as it truly dreams.

And so the gate stands, beneath the vast gaze of a turquoise planet and a sky cluttered with divine mistakes. Murn and Zobble remain, tending the silence between the stars, waiting for the next curious soul to decide that curiosity is worth the price of everything else.