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This is a story about a man name Grungles who lives under a bridge in the City of Lies. You see, the City of Lies is divided by a river and three bridges cross this river: The Bridge of Hate, The Bridge of Wrath, and The Bridge of Treachery. As for where these bridges got their names, well that is a whole different tale.
Long before the city stood on this spot, the river marked the edge of the known world, or at least what was thought to be "the civilized world." Truth is the civilized people always knew there was more to the world and there were those who knew more still. Indeed, they had contact with a savage people. One who would visit from far beyond the river, for they had access to some method of crossing the vast desert. A method that eluded the civilized people. And these savages would come, sometimes to trade furs and ores. But, other times, they would come to raid. And, with the bones of raided livestock, the built three bridges so as to ease their coming and going. And they cursed these bridges, so that the civilized people would never come near. And, these bridges, they named: The Bridge of Hate, The Bridge of Wrath, and the Bridge of Treachery.
Now here is where we come back to Grungles. Because he was hunting, one day, for nutria rats and his javelin found its way on the other side of the river. And he went to retrieve his javelin, fearing how he would survive without it. And he braced for some debilitating curse but none befell him and, for the first time, he began to question the magic of the savages. And, as he did, vast fertile fields, strewn with clean waterways, revealed themselves to him. For the desert had been an illusion.
