[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/7840ad36-3c7c-4126-9b65-9e10643ef6bb.png[/img] [img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/866c02e3-d656-4c75-b3e9-e9988ea4b3f1.png[/img] [hr] [hr] [img]https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/44870d7c-584e-45e0-9d99-501728bea5d1/d8sajrf-50fe7d14-658d-4180-a0fd-6308b77a34e1.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzQ0ODcwZDdjLTU4NGUtNDVlMC05ZDk5LTUwMTcyOGJlYTVkMVwvZDhzYWpyZi01MGZlN2QxNC02NThkLTQxODAtYTBmZC02MzA4Yjc3YTM0ZTEuanBnIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.T9AwDwQxjeQ1LxB7BFwmeJk--k1TQ3AiY3Ij1PgNjwg[/img] [h2]Act I: Strange Occurences[/h2][/center] As the sun capitulated to the ebony cloak of night, an uncanny transformation swept across Caledon. The rhythm of the city shifted, the mechanical din of day, with its unrelenting industry, segued into an undercurrent of secretive vibrancy as daylight receded. In the affluent districts of the east bank, Caledon's wealthy glitterati emerged. Their carriages deposited them at opulent theatres and grand music halls, their refined laughter slicing through the hushed whispers of the twilight. Yet, even amid the glamour, a sense of unease lingered. A masked figure in a corner, a suspicious glance over a champagne glass, the shiver of a debutante, there was a palpable sense that not all was as it seemed. Across the river, in the west bank taverns, the city's less fortunate sought solace in shared stories and cheap ale. The conviviality was marred, though, by a building tension. Whispered rumours of a missing dock worker, the sight of a regular's empty chair, the hushed conversation of the tavern owner with a hooded stranger, all hinting at an unfolding drama that held patrons in its grip. In the labyrinthine alleyways of Caledon, clandestine activities intensified. The black market flourished, but even the hardened criminals seemed on edge. Transactions were hastier, voices were lower, glances nervously darted down the darker corners. Something was amiss, and even the underbelly of society could sense it. At the harbor, the cacophony of industry belied an eerie undercurrent. Workers noticed cargo being moved stealthily, whispers of unfamiliar vessels docking at odd hours, and sightings of unusual figures skulking in the shadows. The harbor, usually a sanctuary of routine and hard work, was ensnared in the web of suspense. Guarding over all this was the city watch, their lanterns casting long, probing shadows in their ceaseless quest for order. Yet tonight, their step was more hurried, their gazes more suspicious, their grips on their weapons a bit tighter. Beneath the shimmering moonlight, Caledon pulsed with an inscrutable sense of suspense. An invisible web of intrigue was slowly being spun, ready to ensnare the unwary. As the citizens navigated the precarious night, a palpable question echoed in the gaslit gloom: what secrets did the night hold? Would the coming dawn bring resolution or draw them deeper into the mysterious embrace of the unknown?