The Shattered Star
It begins as a rumor, a fairy tale. In the ghettos of an unforgiving city, a child of an ethnic minority— unpopular even in his homeland—hears tales of a city without judgment. In the glow of a burning palace, a disgraced noble begs his advisors for a place to disappear. In the dank mud of the forest, hiding from the guard’s hounds, thieves whisper of a city without laws, without sanctions or pursuit.
This is always the way.
They come, alone or in caravans, to the foot of the great cliff and stare up at the city walls above, eight stories tall and broken by a thousand doors and windows. They pass through the gateless tangle of beggars and schemers and emerge into a city of contrasts: perpetual twilight inside its hollow, sheltering walls, the endless noise of crowds and hawkers at its center. They enter—the pilgrims and refugees, fugitives and opportunists—and are seen, and are just as quickly forgotten. As one, they are enveloped and disappear, vanishing into the patchwork populace and melding with it—just a few more faces in a city that long since quit noticing them.
A city of outcasts. A city of strangers.
Welcome to Kaer Maga.