Dear reader, you are no doubt aware of our history but indulge an old scribe whilst he recounts it for his own benefit. If only to further highlight the changes that have taken place.
Tæorn, the city of the Magister, stood as a jewel upon the Orn peninsula. Named for the River Orn that flows swiftly around the hill called simply the Tae. The sea sparkles to the West as the traveller works his way along the great highway that leads to the city proper. A traveller approaching the city would first notice how it rises majestically on the hill, each tier of the city walled off from the ones below it until finally at the peak stands His Tower.
As the traveller works their way along the highway they reach the outmost level of the sprawling shantytown that surrounds the city proper. Mean hovels and people of a most unsavoury nature lurk here. Those who have not even made it into the city proper dwell outside praying upon visitors either as bandits or pedalling their rude wares.
However following the main highway is safe so many visitors move quickly on through the first wall, the Wall of Rain, and into the fourth tier. The people are a little better and the houses are made of stone rather than mud. Butchers, rat catchers and coarse seafarers hover here. Guilds for the most manual and unpleasant work can be found throughout this tier. It is a place to visit for workers and nothing more. The port is also found here as the base of the hill runs into the sea. Thankfully the port is guarded as otherwise the ruffians of this level might have run off with the fine stone that was moved from distant lands to craft it.
Moving through this tier leads one to the Wall of Craft. This tier is beginning to hold civilised people, craftsmen and the lower orders of scribes. Simple folk to be sure but none the less determined to make something of their lives beyond wine, wenching and waste. The houses are sturdily built and the works simple but solid, like the folk themselves.
The second tier is home to the respectable folk of Tæorn. The second tier, reached through the Wall of Silver, is full of well made dwellings with polite and efficient folk who scurry to honest work. The religious guilds, scholars and merchants are all found here. The streets are well looked after with broad avenues and many of the cities famous people live amongst the boulevards of the second tier.
Finally as one passes through the Wall of Sun the traveller enters into the first tier. Magistrates, goldsmiths and the most powerful religion can be found to make their corrupt bases here. Assayers mix with political power wielders in leafy and clean streets. The rain washes all of the grime down to the lower levels. It is a shame that it could do nothing for the corruption inside them. But perhaps I am letting my tierist bias interfere.
At the very apex of the hill there stands the Magister's tower amongst gardens and leafy suburbs. What more can be said about such an important and beloved figure?
In short the first tier made it their business to influence, either through politics or finance. The second works to create things of lasting value. The third tier is the place of the more skilled labourers and servants those who provide the base upon which society stands. The fourth tier is the place of the most manual labourers, those who must sully their hands with unpleasant tasks to earn a living. Finally there is the shanty town of those who do not deserve to live in the city proper and are not even citizens of Tæorn.
Above all of this ruled the Magister, a man of mysterious powers whose skill held together the city and the world around Tæorn.
Tæorn was an important trading city. The sea gave us access to many other ports and the river offered easy passage into the heart of the country. As one travels away from Tæorn the lands became more and more wild, with cities ruled over by governors who owe homage to the Magister through ancient treaties.
Things have changed.
One month ago a huge earthquake shook the land, tidal waves roared across the sea and a storm began that lasted for three days and three nights before finally ending.
When the upheaval finally ended the people breathed a sigh of relief. However many things had changed. Contact with other cities and the trade we rely upon has all but ended, we do not know if they were crushed or swamped by the mighty waves. With contact lost food supplies are badly needed and people are beginning to starve. The people of Tæorn are desperate, their money is worthless, food is scarce and inter-tier rivalry is becoming bitter as the city turns on itself for resources.
And the Magister has disappeared.
New rulers are needed, and even in all the chaos and disorder there is hope. Individuals with strange gifts have appeared. Connected to a new power they wield magic that no one has ever seen outside the hands of the Magister. Drawing upon powers that are based on the five forces of change, mind, body, destiny, and the land itself they have the ability to reshape our world in any way they desire. Only time will tell what they will do with their powers. It is beyond the vision of this simple scribe to see the future, we can only hope that they will restore our city in this time of need. We place ourselves in their hands.