Pinnacles of Power
“Jutting from the waters of the harbor are five islands. Ruins that hint at former opulence pack these so-called Shattered Isles. Frescoes, elaborately painted and irreparably wrecked, adorn numerous walls. Neglected but masterfully crafted statues stand everywhere.
Those who live elsewhere in the city often mockingly call this archipelago the Ghost Quarter, the latter part of its name hearkening back to decades ago when the islands were part (”a quarter") of the mainland. Then, the district was home to lesser nobles. It was torn violently away from the rest of the city when the aristocrats who lived here at the time attempted to overthrow Prince Rolan. That event, known as the Sever, forever changed the face of Gloomwrought. Since then, the Ghost Quarter has been home to the city’s poorest citizens and the restless ghosts of those who died during the Sever.
Two wide bridges, constructed in the aftermath of the Sever, connect the isles to the mainland. These bridges are the easiest way to pass between the islands and the shore. Prince Rolan anticipated a need to cut this area off from the city if the ghosts and beggars of the region ever again attempt rebellion. Each structure was enhanced by a powerful arcane ritual.
The district speaks of its tumultuous past on every street. Some parts of it are eternally on the verge of collapse, having mysteriously frozen in place during the last moments of the Sever. Parapets droop at extreme angles, black stone seeming to flow down their faces like wax running down a candle.
Compared to the rest of Gloomwrought, the isles are overpopulated. Several families might share a single floor in a shanty perched precariously over the street. Would-be new residents, civtims of some misfortune or another elsewhere in the city, flow into the district every day."
Places of interest:
- none so far
“We live among the bones of the old city, among the halls of lords long dead. Pressed in like rats, we fight over scraps. We starve while the rich in their towers fill their bellies. This place robs me of my rest. The wailing of ghosts fills my mind like the weeping of hungry children fills my ears. Tomorrow we will rise against those in the city, I tell myself. Tomorrow we will take what is rightfully ours. If only tomorrow would come…”
-Carved on the walls of Midnight Market