Strange Land

Tourists and newspapers call her the West Coast Ruby, but to locals, the sprawling metropolis is no jewel. It's Strangeland. New Straum is a car crash of different races, languages, foods and traditions, but time marches on, and a decade of excess has put a strain on the city. Strangeland’s once-vibrant ribbon of coastline storefronts has begun to crumble and fade as the beaches choke with beautiful people from every corner of the globe, hiding their shark-dead eyes behind $300 sunglasses. Inland, the buildings and houses spring up like rats, and towers pierce the amber skyline like a middle finger to the gods.

Magic is all but illegal in the city, but that doesn’t stop the old orc women from selling their tinctures and dried monster organs in Greenstoll, or greasy gnomes from running contraband wands in and out of the Straumport docks in the middle of the night. The lists of criminals and crazies grow every day, along with those of the missing and lost. The rich and be beautiful seem not to notice, but the rest of us are not so lucky…