ambrosials
unknowable
I M P E R I U M
[ ❝ There are no good men in Ketterdam. ❞ ]
No one has ever said that Ketterdam is beautiful.
It’s not, you see. It’s all rough edges and harsh lines, soot and grime and ash all held together with more than just a little blood. Oh, there’s the nicer parts of it too, but even the wealthy and privileged are ruled by avarice and selfishness. Fine velvet suits and pricey jewel brooches do little to hide hearts as black as those of the murderers in the Barrel, the most vile part of Ketterdam.
But Ketterdam has always had a certain magic to it, regardless.
Its residents come from all over the world and from all walks of life. Grisha seeking refuge, mercenaries looking for jobs, convicts and thieves and farmers and wanderers. Gangs run just about every inch of the city; those who don’t belong to them must be on guard every minute of the day to survive, and in a lawless city such as this, that is no small feat.
And then are those who stand out.
Ketterdam comes to them in a dream one night, a woman bloodless and pale as bone, clothed in a gown the color of night. The only colors to be seen on her figure are the rings of exhaustion under her eyes and the purple and green of veins against her skin, but even then there is something ethereal about her.
“I know I don’t look my best,” she says, wry smile twisting her lips, “but I will soon look much worse without mortal intervention.”
She goes on to explain. She — Ketterdam — lies on a ley line, has lain on a ley line since as long as the city has existed, but with time the knowledge has faded and now, almost no one remembers. An ancient darkness has awakened, and it is overpowering her with abilities far stronger than her own. She pleads with them to help, to go to the source of the darkness and purge it with a spell.
Half of the group forming an inner circle, the remainder forming the outer. Linked hands to complete the circles, but nothing to connect the inner to the outer, and the words ‘in tenebris in exteriorem partem vasorum’.
She promises; with that, she would be free and the darkness vanquished.
Ketterdam has asked them for help and tasked them with the responsibility of saving a city, of saving their city. A number of people, who may know nothing about each other but are connected in this one quest.
How can they possibly refuse?
It’s not, you see. It’s all rough edges and harsh lines, soot and grime and ash all held together with more than just a little blood. Oh, there’s the nicer parts of it too, but even the wealthy and privileged are ruled by avarice and selfishness. Fine velvet suits and pricey jewel brooches do little to hide hearts as black as those of the murderers in the Barrel, the most vile part of Ketterdam.
But Ketterdam has always had a certain magic to it, regardless.
[ ❝ People point guns at each other in Ketterdam all the time. It’s basically a handshake. ❞ ]
Its residents come from all over the world and from all walks of life. Grisha seeking refuge, mercenaries looking for jobs, convicts and thieves and farmers and wanderers. Gangs run just about every inch of the city; those who don’t belong to them must be on guard every minute of the day to survive, and in a lawless city such as this, that is no small feat.
And then are those who stand out.
Ketterdam comes to them in a dream one night, a woman bloodless and pale as bone, clothed in a gown the color of night. The only colors to be seen on her figure are the rings of exhaustion under her eyes and the purple and green of veins against her skin, but even then there is something ethereal about her.
“I know I don’t look my best,” she says, wry smile twisting her lips, “but I will soon look much worse without mortal intervention.”
She goes on to explain. She — Ketterdam — lies on a ley line, has lain on a ley line since as long as the city has existed, but with time the knowledge has faded and now, almost no one remembers. An ancient darkness has awakened, and it is overpowering her with abilities far stronger than her own. She pleads with them to help, to go to the source of the darkness and purge it with a spell.
Half of the group forming an inner circle, the remainder forming the outer. Linked hands to complete the circles, but nothing to connect the inner to the outer, and the words ‘in tenebris in exteriorem partem vasorum’.
She promises; with that, she would be free and the darkness vanquished.
Ketterdam has asked them for help and tasked them with the responsibility of saving a city, of saving their city. A number of people, who may know nothing about each other but are connected in this one quest.
How can they possibly refuse?
[ ❝ This is the city I bled for. And if Ketterdam has taught me anything, you can always bleed a little more. ❞ ]
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