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Darkness Hides Many Sins [Blades in the Dark]
The City of Doskvol, Duskwall or "the Dusk" to the locals, was established over 1000 years ago as a coal mining settlement on the cold north coast of Akoros. It has withstood the breaking of the world, an attack by a titanic leviathan, massive fires, plague, a civil war, and legions of angry ghosts. This is a community of survivors.
The city is densely packed inside the ring of immense lightning towers that protect it from the murderous ghosts of the blighted deathlands beyond. Every square foot is covered in human construction of some kind--piled one atop the other with looming towers, sprawling manors, and stacked row houses; dissected by canals and narrow twisting alleyways; connected by a spiderweb of roads, bridges, and elevated walkways.
Doskvol is one of the most important cities in the Imperium, since it is from this port that the metal steamships of the leviathan hunters are launched. The hunters brave the far northern reaches of the Void Sea, far out of sight of land, to grapple with titanic demons of the depths to extract their precious immortal blood--the substance refined into electroplasm, the power source of civilization.
All powerful noble families operate hunter ships, each commanded by the scion of their line--and it is by their fortunes that the fortunes of the empire wax and wane. The savvy and the ruthless of Doskvol do well to position themselves to profit from the crucial enterprise upon which so many depend-- either as an ally or servant of the aristocracy, or preying upon the corrupted rich and privileged elite.
The sun was shattered in the cataclysm, plunging the world into darkness. Its remnant shards burn weakly in the sky at dawn and twilight, yielding only a dull glow, like the last embers in a dying fire. The moon looms huge and bright, swelling with each passing year, as if drawn ever closer by some terrible power. The ancient stars still hang in the black sky, though their arrangements sometimes swirl and change according to unknown principles of celestial motion.
It is a poisoned, haunted, bleak sort of world. Generators running on captured soul-stuff and the blood of titanic monsters throw shadows rather than shining light. An immortal emperor rules from somewhere none of you will ever see. Lightning Fences hold the angry dead at bay. It is a world of haves and have-nots. You are the latter.
Somewhere on the fringes you and yours are a ragtag group of poor independents, trying to scrape together a living. You are the downtrodden bottom rung, marginalized and largely ignored by those wealthy folk. And, my, how that rankles.
So, my hungry young rascals. Welcome to Duskwall. Find your marks, plan well, grow wealthy and powerful. Otherwise, your ghost will be all that marks your passing.