Things fall down into the Heart. People, religions, ideas, seeping down from the distant surface like rain into subterranean oceans. But of all the things that have been sent below the greatest is the grand city of Lothbruk.

Grand Jelt and Skotsheim were eternal rivals; two petty kingdoms struggling for control of the same muddy island. Skotsheim chose to invest its resources in a mighty army, a glorious city and overseas colonies. Grand Jelt chose to invest its resources in magic. Turns out that was the winning evolutionary strategy, because on the glorious Seventh of August the Arcane Council wove a mighty spell to hurl the entire city of Lothbruk physically into the Heart. The anniversary of this terrible weaving was made a national holiday and referred to euphemistically as 'The Act of Union', the day when Grand Jelt truly became [i]grand[/i].

As for Lothbruk itself? It was the payment taken by King Dragon and the perfect canvas for him to express himself upon. What could be more Wasteful than to have an entire city to oneself? What could satisfy one's Curiosity more than rummaging through every house and office, learning every secret in the entire fallen kingdom? What Judgement was more mighty than acting as adjudicator of nations? What better target to vent one's Wrath on than one of the world's greatest cities? 

And what would be a greater boost to a king pride than to make one's solitary nest here in this dark and sunken city?

Bit by bit, Lothbruk was sinking. Here and there it was burned. It had fallen far, even though it still had much falling to go. It still made a worthy throne for a dragon, but before too long it would be time to seek out another.