The sun shone on the abandoned, dusty plain. Little vegetation would grow here, and even the beasts and monsters of the surrounding forests rarely tread on the loose, crumbly soil. The winds whipped through harshly, and the dust was fashioned by it into tiny projectiles. Every once in a while, a fearsome beast of the forest would duck out into the wasteland, chased by an even larger predator, or wishing to cross over the land, but besides those, life in the wasteland was uneventful, removed from the wilds of nature and from the politics of lands and city-states.
Even armies rarely crossed the flat wastes, for the wasteland was between city-states in the great Confederacy of Perdonia. Peace had reigned within the borders of Perdonia for quite some time now, the greater part of a millenia, however, at it's borders had long raged a war. The Kingdom of Lortha, a mighty and warlike power, had strove to relieve Perdonia of some of its outer territory. In doing so, Perdonia awoke like a sleeping giant, and the two powers have been locked at a stalemate since.
Sprouting up like mushrooms in wet soil, this dry crumbly dust brought forth a crop of rebels. Instead of gilled caps grew rough barricades made from the timber of the forest, and in place of roots, series of wells and pipes sought water under the surface to try and make the ground fertile, or at the very least habitable. War had changed Perdonia, and the constant drive to produce an army to fight had eroded what freedoms they had. Those who could not, or would not support the war effort were not tolerated. While deserters, pacifists, and those who could not be put to use were not killed, they were also not supported, and left to die outside the protective walls in the forests, deserts, and wastelands, at the teeth and claws of wild beasts.
Perdonia had been warring for a decade by now, and on the tenth anniversary of the war, an uprising was planned. The support ran deep, as war, especially protracted war, wears down most people. While the thoughts of uprising and rebellion spread like a weed, the information also found its way into those who were sympathetic to the government, and some platoons of the military were called in to keep the peace at home.
Those who were behind the revolt, mainly a skilled and clever group, also had their spies. They knew that, while On the eve of the planned uprising, they fled, escaping into the wilds with whatever they could carry on whatever carts they owned or stole. Without its leadership, the uprising failed to occur, and life in Perdonia went on as normal.
The revolutionaries fled to the wastelands in haste, and set up and encampment to protect against the winds. Those that knew how to hunt and forage were sent into the woods to gather sustenance, and the few mages of the group set out trying to find water or creating spells to protect and feed the growing town. All the rest gathered their supplies, and began collecting themselves to build a town.
While the town did not thrive, it struggled on, constantly growing with the latest group of deserters and outcasts. Food was short, but not at the levels of starvation, and the deserters brought in weapons and skills that were useful in hunting. Farms were set up, and the soil improved, and the dust slowly changed to a fertile state.
The government of Perdonia, though aware of the formation and growth of the town, was relatively unconcerned. Only very few Perdonians fled to the town, and the town kept to itself. Life was much harder in the town, so only those Perdonians who had no choice would go there.
The little town grew for many years, becoming more and more established. Still, there was always a raggedness, a sort of ad-hoc nature to the town. Though there were some stone buildings, the majority was put up in haste out of whatever materials were handy. Farms grew, ever transforming the soil to fertility, but the wasteland was vast, and there was still a great deal of dust. Large walls surrounded the town, not to protect it from anyone but the dust.
With the growth grew leisure time and culture, and the art of the town grew and evolved unto itself, for many of the artists had fled here. There were many bars and stages for musicians, and almost every indoor surface was covered in murals and art. Musical instruments were cobbled out of whatever materials handy, timber harvested from the forests, parts of the many beasts, and whatever was around. Though the instruments were often crude, the musicians hands coaxed beautiful melodies from it, and in its own way, the dusty cobbled together town became a quite vibrant place.
The war raged on far away, continuing in a stalemate for decades. War influenced the growth of Perdonia, and it grew even further apart from the town forming inside her. Ever more focused on the growth of the military, the Perdonians took some quite large risks. Even the mages began to worry, for they felt their neutrality might be breached. Perdonia embraced and attempted to control the more unstable, eccentric inventors, and use the creations of these madmen against Lortha.
About four decades after the founding of the town, and around five decades after the war had started, a young soldier fled to the town, a quite usual occurrence. He appeared to have left hastily. Like many of the soldiers, he was brandishing a spear and still wearing his armor, though with the painted insignia of Perdonia hastily scratched out. He also held, close to his heart, a deep secret. He heard many stories while in the army of this place, a town that would accept deserters. Most said it was terrible, with many starving people on the streets. To his observation, it was certainly no great capital, but it wasn't any slum either. He swore he even heard some quite beautiful lute strains in the background. Like most soldiers, he made a beeline straight to a local bar, and ordered a very stiff drink, wondering what kind of currency they accepted.
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