In the City Above, the Spire Lords live lives of extravagance; lives of never-ending parties and balls with only the finest vintages, the choicest of meats, and the purest of substances both mundane and magical.
Or so you guess. You’ll probably never know. You’re stuck down here on the ground where they dump all the shit when they’re done, at the bases of the mysterious mooncoral towers that support the City Above. Down here you have to look to the horizon to see the sky; the massive alabaster pedestal that supports the City Above, and from which Moonthrone gets its name, blots most of the sun and casts the streets in shadow.
You’re new to town (or not), not even at the notice of the Merchant Houses who live halfway up to the City Above, in the Mid-City, neighborhoods of terraced houses and platforms built into the sides of the alabaster towers that dot the city.
You only reached Moonthrone today (unless you didn’t). You likely passed through the fortress at the northern entrance of the city, Rustgate, where the bestial dogmen guards halfheartedly checked you for contraband (whatever that might be, they never said), and much more forcefully interrogated you about any magical abilities. If you’re a spellcaster, you were likely tested and forced to register (and pay) for papers, to prove you’re no warlock. Unless you are a warlock, in which case you either bluffed your way through, proved you’re bound to one of the city’s approved patrons, or entered the city by more circuitous means.
Oh, and you’re not a gnome, are you? If so, you better have a good disguise. Those choicest meats (or maybe purest substances) I mentioned the Spire Lords getting? Their favorite is gnome. Stuff supposedly gives you magic powers or something.