Upon the Shores of the Landing, there on the cliffs below the Quays, level fields, the kindest of the raw lands.

A stone circle first erected and the words-that-bind spoken; First City.

Uncounted years, of quiet living, the base camp of Laynsters explorations, the dreamings of a settled land.

FirstCity, timeless, beautiful, ancient. Destruction at the hands of its builders at the peak of its years (though is it not always so)

An upbrupt battle between the Five (and far too much Ale) lost all but the Center Stone. Only sheer luck brought it to rest within the area now occupied by RavensDale.

For decades after named; PenTangle, by the Five, it languished as the last vestiges of power slowly crept back into the earth.

Only FirstGarden seems untouched, stainless forever; the foilage that never dies, the fountain that never runs dry. But the fruits inedible, poison to the palate and water that slakes thirst forever, but kills those foolish enough to drink by parching their souls within a fortnight.

The rest,.... The rest.... a barrow to the foolishness of youth and fiery travellers. And still the voices whisper of those early days, and somewhere, somewhere within this complex of tumbledown stone and destruction sleep those who bide the coming of the lottery.

So the Story of FirstCity as told, by the hand of Moira 2nd of the Five, The night before the first Sleep.