Another day in the effluent laced slurries of Mire End. As lostfinders, sparkers and vigilkeepers you are but one step above the cancerous Hoeler gang that are the burgh’s pervasive protectors. Yet tonight is going to be like no other.
It’s been a safe and forgettable evening in the High and Dry gin hall, perched in the broken tenements of Brockville Strand. As you step out onto the sodden plastic flaps of the roadway, in the night shadows cast by the Clocktower, you are confronted by one of the ghostly Shifted, the inhuman beings that tend and nurture our nightmares. It would like a dance…
You will never forget The City. But The City will forget you.