It is the 20th year of my, Grimm’s, life, and I have found myself stopping on a small globe in the midst of the Elemental Chaos by the name of Brightscale Keep. How it ever received that moniker is anyone’s guess. The place is abysmal, I should know.
It was here I first saw them, a group(a gaggle?) of ragged refugees, from gods knew where. Wearied with the look of being truly lost. Not the lost of not knowing one’s location, but devoid of a destination itself. At first I took little notice, well, as much notice as one gives detritus anyways. Something about them, however, piqued my interest. Perhaps I saw in them kindred, for I too was without destination. Traveling from place to place searching ancient structures of arcane and infernal origins for answers to questions contingent upon my very salvation. So what happened after seeing them might have been very natural.
What happened that night would have shaken me, had I not seen things far more maddening from days in my past