The Wreckage

The Wreckage is a noted district on the fringes of the city of Pholyos. Originally an alternative anchorage for sailors who wanted access to Pholyos but hoped to avoid too much notice, the Wreckage was always rough and rowdy, though in the post-Wesmodian era it has attracted a genuinely insalubrious reputation stemming from the district's evidently indelible association with the goddess Maryas. Given this association, the district is now subject to superstitious as well as rational infamy.

Location

The Wreckage is found to the north-west of Pholyos's large and prosperous dock region, separated from the docks by a high rocky outcrop and hidden from sight in a small natural bight at the northern end of the city's lagoon. Ships whose crews hope to anchor there typically sail into the lagoon and then stick close to the seaward shore thereof, passing under the shadow of the Star Tower if arriving on the afternoon tide, as most prefer to do. Although this course does not hide the approach of these ships from the rest of the city - they must still pass within a few hundred metres of the docks - it does prevent watchers on shore from identifying unfamiliar vessels or anybody on their decks.
The Wrecks are not officially an anchorage and do not fall under the jurisdiction of Pholyos's otherwise stringent port authority. As such the small, basic jetties that exist are in a state of constantly jury-rigged disrepair. Many captains prefer to simply anchor in the shallow waters of the bight and ferry crews and goods ashore by boat, or sometimes even beach their ships.

History

As with much of the city of Pholyos the details of the history of the Wrecks are unclear. There are few records to suggest that the district had any particular identity or reputation for much of the early stages of its history, being little more than a northern coastal district into which it was inconvenient to extend the docks. Eventually, however, it appears to have begun being used by smugglers precisely because the lack of docking facilities meant the increasingly organised dock authorities, operating under the landward cult of Zargyod, did not actively police shipping there, regarding any consignments as being of small account. It would follow that the district would have acquired a reputation for lawlessness and unwholesomeness. The Ballad of Jaq the Sandhopper is explicitly set in the Wrecks and is at least eight hundred years old, suggesting the area had an awkward reputation as long ago as that.
Exactly what these smugglers were smuggling is not clear - the ballad of Jaq famously does not record what is actually being fought over - though thaumatologists studying the matter have suggested it may have been something as immaterial as religious ideas. The first known reference to the presence of the cult of Maryas in Pholyos is in the ballad, which disapprovingly describes a shrine to "Ynglyas's dark-haired sister" existing somewhere in the Wrecks. In fact, it seems that the Temple of Maryas at Pholyos dated from around the same time as the ballad, suggesting the anonymous author may actually have underbid their hand in this regard. The evidently substantial building stood near what is now the centre of the Wreckage, a long distance from any of the other temples in the city. It would have been appropriate for Maryas to find followers in an area of the city where the local economy depended largely on individual operators being very careful about who knew what about their activities.
The cult of Maryas is not known to have been directly associated with any of this ill-doing, but then, little can ever be proved about that odd organisation. Although Wesmod himself famously and mysteriously made no sustained observations about Maryas in the Wesmodian Invectives, many counterfeit invectives, some purported to be lost writings by Wesmod and others clearly rhetorical exercises by post-Reformation commentators and students, make a great deal of the cult and its association with the Wrecks.  Some of these essays are secular polemics, accusing the cult of collusion with foreign powers such as Chogyos. Others are clearly popular entertainment, descending into lurid tales of murder or debauchery. Others still remain on-topic as indictments of society for tolerating the worship of a god of secrecy and malice. The one common denominator is that all such literature is very prominently set in the Wrecks, which by the time of the Reformation was clearly regarded as the sort of place where dark things might happen.
Come the Reformation itself this reputation had become so entrenched that the Wreckage descended into near-anarchy as the general populace revolted against the prominent presence of the temple in their midst. A large mob of torch-wielding vigilantes blockaded the temple, preventing anyone from getting in or out, with the evident aim (for unruly mobs by definition do not possess reasoned manifestos) of starving the cult out. When this mob began looting nearby stores and warehouses for food to maintain their vigil the governors of the city authorised the city watch to defuse the situation by storming the temple - a decision that incidentally demonstrated the influence of Wesmod's ideas on their policy. As with all temples of Maryas, the place was found to be deserted, its occupants apparently and unaccountably fled with everything that could have been used to incriminate them - according to the famous local story, all that was found was some moth-eaten black and purple drapery in one chamber. 
With the cult gone the governors took the unusual step of ordering their temple torn down, and the dark grey stone from which it was constructed repurposed to repair the damage caused in the unrest accompanying the Reformation. If the plan was to ferment some sort of urban renewal, however, it appears to have failed. The site of the temple is an empty lot to this day, roughly an acre in extent and dotted with low weedy piles of rubble now centuries old. The surrounding area meanwhile became more and more crowded with buildings, twisting allies and middens, famed across the Sea of Jars as a haunt of beggars, cut-throats, ladies of the evening and the most dissolute and disreputable of sailors. 

Present day

The Wrecks still constitutes a blemish on Pholyos's self-bestowed reputation as a city of honest trade, rationality and fair dealing. Winesinks, brothels, flophouses and cirurgies of dubious repute constitute most of the commercial activity and residents live in crowded tenements reached via narrow winding streets and dark closes. It is widely accepted that no decent person would want to visit the district, and none would ever do so after dark for fear of the footpads believed - with considerable justification - to run rampant after sunset.  The watch seldom patrol the area, instead skirting its boundaries in an effort to keep the urban rot contained. Archaeologists have turned up a striking number of crude burials in the area, as well as buildings built on foundations of much greater age than the constructions above, creating a warren of sub-basements, some of which appear to have been used as cells for the detention of prisoners, though for what purpose remains unclear; whether the investigators want to know or not is an interesting question.
The endurance of this state of affairs six centuries after the dissolution of the cult of Maryas has been cited as evidence that such social conditions are an organic development, a natural consequence of letting a community grow up around crime and secrecy, and that the cult never had anything to do with it. Conversely anyone of a mind to hear will find oral tales that, in fact, the cult never went away, instead fleeing underground or somehow integrating itself with the mob that apparently grew up against it. These stories will go into great detail about strange, slender, hooded figures in black or grey cloaks, either masked or possessed of 'moon-tanned' skin, coming and going through the Wrecks, always by night, on missions in service of all manner of unfathomable and sinister conspiracies. In many cases these figures are said to use a huge network of underground tunnels, by which they are able to access any area of the Wrecks or perhaps even the rest of Pholyos. Other versions go further, attributing these strange characters with supernatural powers of stealth, infiltration and obfuscation; they are said to be able to dissolve into foul black mist, to enter houses by sliding under the doors like octopuses, change the appearance of their faces and much else besides. What these individuals may be up to on any given night, or in the long run, varies from teller to teller, but these tales are generally violent and the agenda of this cult is typically to be served by murder and debauchery of the worst kind.
In short, it could reasonably be suggested that the Wreckage is the wellspring of the long-standing superstition of the Shadow Men, a supposed conspiracy of unknown devotees of Maryas using secrets from her large body of devotional literature to achieve supernatural power with which to continue her dark work long after the dissolution of her public cult. This superstition of course not limited to Pholyos,  as tales of the Shadow Men or Shadow People can be found throughout the Eleven Cities. But Pholyos is particularly noted for this oral tradition, and this is mostly due to the pervasive anarchic darkness and evil reputation of the Wreckage. Most adults will think twice about crediting such tales, which exist in many communities largely to frighten children. Conversely, exactly the same adults would likely avoid the Wreckage like The Great Bruise for fear of being knifed for the coins in their purse, and many a sensible thinking adult has risen from their beds to ensure their windows are bolted after hearing these tales. Thaumatologists, furthermore, are by definition interested in tales of supernatural power, and brave individuals often risk visiting the Wrecks in the hopes of hearing a tale of dark magic that can somehow be substantiated. What they might do with such information is anybody's guess.

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