Karaliman
SafeA harbour city ringed by fog. The heart of the game and everyone’s meeting point.
Map · Inside the fog wall
The fog swallowed the roads around Karaliman. The towns, marshes and hills can be reached only through thresholds woven with old runes. The innkeepers guard the thresholds; they let no one through who isn’t ready.
A harbour city ringed by fog. The heart of the game and everyone’s meeting point.
The shore where the Entrusted emerge from the sea. The Innkeepers’ caravanserai stands here.
An inn town where the roads meet. The Innkeepers’ Oath was signed here.
The Iron Regiment’s town. Barracks order has never broken here.
The Union’s town. Home of the soup kitchens and workshops, where talismans and the Anvil were born.
The Covenant’s valley. Where healing was born.
The marsh where the creatures of tales were first seen. At night a voice is heard calling travellers by name.
Old mine shafts and the Cave of the Dead. Not even shepherds go up here alone.
The forest of the Pale Ones, who came from the Dark Sky.
A dangerous coast where the cracks of the Dark Sky open. What comes out of them resembles no tale.
Essence mines and the bloodiest fronts of the Red Lines.
Karaliman
The port city at the heart of the fog. Every quarter has its own trade, and its own dangers.
Document 24
Thresholds are door frames woven with runes. For the traveller who passes through, they turn the fog curtain into a straight corridor for a single moment.
The Innkeepers run the thresholds. After the Clock Tower the thresholds were closed; the factions wove their own, but the watch still belongs to the innkeepers.
Not everyone can pass. A threshold won’t let through anyone who isn’t ready, and neither will an innkeeper.
Innkeepers’ Oath · Article 3
Since the Innkeepers’ Oath, war between the factions is waged only in designated zones: the Red Lines.
The city and towns are protected by the oath. No blood is spilled in a town, and no hand is raised against an innkeeper. Whoever steps onto a Red Line knows why they are there.
The mouth of the old mine in the Blind Hills has been sealed for years. The garrison’s ledger of the missing says a company was “lost in the fog curtain” here; no search was made.
Shepherds tell of seeing figures in the hills at night, with patterns glowing like fire on their skin. No one goes near them.