Welcome to Pluckith
Where the wind of The Kingkiller Chronicle never stops blowing through six strings.

Every trembling note Kvothe played for his talent pipes,
every secret chord he stole from the moonlight for Denna,
every silent song that waits behind Kote’s eyes at the Waystone Inn,
all are reborn here in fingerstyle and classical guitar.

From the blue Chandrian flame to the red dust of Ademre,
from the stone halls of the University to the broken wagons on a forgotten road,
Patrick Rothfuss’s world lives again in wood, steel, and silence.

“Music sounds different to the one who plays it.
It is the musician’s curse.”

We embrace that curse and share it with you,
three times a week, without fail.

New covers every
Monday · Wednesday · Friday
(at the hour when the fire in the Waystone Inn burns just low enough to hear the wind).

Subscribe, ring the bell, and walk with us until the third day comes.