The City of Spectra stands tall over the barren lands around it, a venerable and sustaining fortress against an otherwise cruel world. The massive city houses some two hundred thousand souls, with room to spare. The tundras and swamps surrounding Spectra stretch on as far as the eye can see, and many have agreed that nothing else lays beyond the city itself, save death. Those few brave enough to venture out into the wild never return.
That concerns you very little, however, since exiting the city is no longer possible. Magical wards and armed guards ensure no one leaves the city limits at all - and many should want to, given the state of things. The Day; a myriad swirl of shouted propaganda and soothsayers, preachers on every street corner, imperial guards at the entrance to every place of business. The Night; a terrifying melody of marching boots accented by the occasional scream, or the sounds of distant fighting as another home is raided.
This is Spectra, the City of the Church - the city of unforgiving punishment. The imperial, Orwellian empire established by the united churches of the Light looms over the populace. Here, it is an unforgivable sin to be an arcane spellcaster. Or rather, a "Devil-worshipping Sin-caster". Those suspected of being "witches" and "heretics" are dealt with, without mercy. Inquisitors and Paladin-Hunters form organized groups and conduct regular raids of homes and businesses, searching for any and all who may be practitioners of the forbidden arts. The houses of young sorcerers are raided, the offending "tainted blood" drained in the nearest church.
And you? Of course. You're one such practitioner. Whether you were born with the gift of sorcery or taught the arts of wizardry in order to preserve the arcane secrets, or perhaps came upon arcane magic in some other way, you've led a double-life. During the day, you may have been any number of things - a merchant, or perhaps a blacksmith? Maybe you even acted beside the enemy, helping spread propaganda for the church for a meager wage, just to remain disguised.
Well, now, your time is up. They are coming for you, and there is only one possible reaction to such an understanding - you must find a way to contact the Arcane Brotherhood. The last, feeble and well-hidden resistance of arcane spellcasters, living within the shadows of the massive city, biding their time. They are so secretive that they have eluded even your sharp intellect or charismatic charm. You don't know where their headquarters are, or where the Brotherhood's agents act.
All you know is that without them, you will not survive.
They are coming for you.
They will kill you.