Welcome to Amaranth.
This once great city was the originally the seat of the mighty guilds. All manner of treasures once passed through the auction houses here, the huge bazaars awash with ancient scrolls and trinkets, magical toys and potions of rare and subtle reagents. The Guild Adventurers would hunt rare beasts for pelts, settle disputes and undertake any quest for the right price. They were diplomats and mercenaries, hunters and assassins, all the world was for trade in Amaranth.
But when martial law and wars tore apart the peace in the world the guilds lost their purpose. Now they nurse their wounds and scrabble for power over petty imagined slights, leaving their windswept stronghold to crumble.
A plague besets the city, creeping insidiously among the denizens of the undercaverns. Sufferers disappear entirely or die in the winding pathways of the ravineside.
Fresh whispers of a plot to undermine the seat of power in the Guildhouse have surfaced, and the reappearance of rune-slough, luminous rock sap that oozes from dark corners underground are all signs that something in the city is very very wrong.