Frit

You can hear the city of Frit from miles away by the clinking of its windchimes. Strings of broken colored glass hang in every window and in shining swags across doorframes and roofs. The offcasts from Frit's glassworks are a welcome break from the endless green and brown of the swamp in which the city sits. Sand from the path sticks to the feet of its visitors, blown off the wagons that wind through the mangrove trees.   And visitors are plenty - the stunning arcane foci produced there have drawn tourists to the glassworks, where they cheer for the spectacle of the handcrafted glass and pay dearly for souvenirs in the giftshop.   But lately, Frit's Shimmering Spheres have begun to fracture. It's normal for a few to crack in the kiln. That doesn't account for the reports that have come flooding in of the defective spheres that splintered on the shelves of magicians countrywide. Something about the energy contained in the glass is restless. Adventurers are invited to tour the factory, watch the glassblowing show... and find out what the whispers and the shadows in the glass have to say.