"War." The Sergeant said. "Finally ended round three years back, reckon all the men on both sides were dead enough that they couldn't fight anymore. Just one day they stopped throwing stones and walked away, back to where they come from." The Sergeant led them through the crumbling city - it seemed a ghost town, most of the buildings boarded shut and hardly a soul to be seen. "As for why we had the war, you'd best be askin' the Lord, and he's not one to take guests." 

"As fer Mist-taken - har, it's like a pun - you'd best be asking Crissie Hopestone, she's...in charge around here, more or less." He pointed ahead at a sign on one of the few buildings still in good shape. "That's her place, the Scarlet Jester's. Was a lot more lively, once."