Wind blows across the sand, catching a few grains and carrying them until they drop back down. The air is hazy with a blistering heat, thanks to the burning sun above. The camera follows the wind, quickly closing in to a sprawling city, the buildings made from sandstone almost identical in colour to the desert sands around. White cloth is used to create shade all around, between buildings and even over some roads.

People are visible, their reddish-blue - almost purple - skin-colour marking them as non-human long before the camera is close enough to show details. But it only takes seconds for the camera to be close enough to show that the people have thin tails ending in sharp and bony points, as well as short horns starting at their temples and going in different ways, some curled, like a ram’s horns, others straight and a few even splitting up into something looking like antlers.

The camera proceeds into the city, slowing down, showing the surroundings, the airy buildings, mostly providing shade and shelter from the sand carried by the wind, the stalls out on the streets and a hustle and bustle all around. Large lizards walk around, some with a rider in a strange saddle, others used as beasts of burden, weighed down by goods and freight.

After a sweep through the street, the camera enters a building, showing the white-washed inside walls, before ascending a stairway to the roof-terrace where one of the horned figures stands, clad in a long, white garb and a veil to keep the sand from her face. A moment passes - the wind playing with the soft-looking cloth - and the figure turns, lowering her veil to show a dark purple face, the features too sharp to be truly called pretty but with a beauty akin to a sword made by a master of their craft. Topping the head and anchoring part of her head-garb are two horns, short, straight and sharp, drawing some attention from her eyes, smoldering with a golden glow.

“Greetings and welcome to Khartul, the city of crossroads, a place where many a path crosses with that of another. It can be your path on the road, it can be your path in life, either way, Khartul might change yours, leaving you on a new road.” the figure speaks, her voice a mix of smoke and honey, caressing yet slightly rough. After she stops speaking, she smiles, her lips parting a little and revealing sharp canines, adding a dangerous feel to her beauty.

“Most call me Veiled Whisper and I am known as the one who knows everything. Because, you see, while some seek their path amidst carnage, slaughtering those who cross them, hunting those who might threaten them, my path is a different one. I don’t seek to be the most powerful magician or the strongest swordsman or even the most devout believer, favoured child of whatever deity they serve. No, what I seek is to know things. From the most benign gossip to the knowledge the deities themselves deemed too dangerous, every piece of the puzzle, every whisper in a careless ear, they are all my currency and my desire.” the pointy tip of her tail, shaped almost like a heart or maybe a spade, comes into view, dancing above one of her shoulders before switching to the other, almost like a snake waiting to strike.

“And today, I invite you to join me, as I walk the roads of Khartul. But remember, a secret shared is a secret lost.” with those words, she smiles again, raising her finger to her lips in a shushing motion. After that, she draws up her veil again before walking into the house and down the stairs.

The camera cuts to the outside, where the now veiled Whisper steps out, two impressively large figures, both clad in similarly white garb but topped with chainmail and a large, curved sword at their side, following along either side. Their faces are veiled, too, but their barely visible eyes scan back and forth, looking for a threat to present itself, so it can be dealt with.

“Meet Sayf and Harba, sadly, there are too many who think that just because I know something, I should share. Or that I know too much and the best way to make sure that my knowledge vanishes would be to assure my demise. To prevent that, I have Sayf and Harba, my sword and my spear, both travelling with me, wherever I go.” the voice from earlier continues, but not coming from the walking figure, but spoken by an invisible narrator.

The trio continues across the busy roads, the two bodyguards assuring that nobody comes too close, using sturdy metal rods to make a path, until a figure, clad just like the Veiled Whisper, approaches. For a second, the figures stop, small, almost invisible gestures are exchanged and the guards allow the new figure to approach, the two white-garbed females moving their hands at their waists, maybe exchanging something, maybe not.

“Some might ask, how can I know everything, how could I keep up. This was one of my Veiled Words, one of those who collect information for me, acting as my agents. They don’t know everything but they are the important channels that allow me to gather the information I’m interested in. And sometimes, they allow me to move about the roads without my guards, acting just like one of my words, my face hidden by the Veil of Secrecy.” the voice explains again, while the two figures on the screen part again, their interaction mostly hidden by the massive bodyguards. With a little practise, it would be easy to have both of them switch places with no one the wiser.

After that interaction, they continue until they reach a large structure, not quite a building, more like a permanent pavilion providing shade for the market within, almost a street-market but not quite. Guards, clad in similar garb as the two bodyguards, make sure that not everyone is able to enter but the white-clad figures pass without any direct observation.

Inside, the air is filled with soft noise, hundreds of conversations adding together to produce a indecipherable background noise but, despite all that, no hawkers are shouting prices, the haggling is carried out in subdued, polite tones, all is very orderly. No cutpurses try to ply their trade, no thiefs running after a successful grab, merely the wealthy and the influential are allowed inside.

The white-robed trio walks along the stalls, the narrator adding a little information what is seen on the various stalls, talking about mead from the Valkyries, silk from the wild lands, valuable elven timber, crystals coming from the deep desert, further south on the demon-continent, almost everything can be bought on the market of Khartul.

Veiled Whisper inspects some of the wares, softly speaking to the vendors, sometimes, a soft handshake is exchanged but never wares or money. The narrating voice continues to explain, speaking of a system of trust and obligation, those who sponsor the market make sure that the deals made within their halls are kept. It is their honour that allows all to trade freely, at least as long as their rules are kept.

The market-scene shifts a little and the threesome in white leaves, the two bodyguards looking much more alert after leaving, as if someone might attack them. The female in the middle now walks with a purpose and both hurry to make sure that she is protected, no matter what.

The scene shifts and the white-clad female figure walks into a tee-house, climbing up a staircase to their roof where she takes a seat, the camera showing the city behind her.

A cup of tea is set in front of her and finally, the camera shifts, no longer showing her veiled face but shifting to her back, looking out over her shoulder.

Before her, the cerulean blue ocean spreads as far as the eye can see, white-sailed ships using the wind to enter and exit the harbour. Below, the serpentine figures of the Naga are visible, almost in the same number as the horned and tailed demons.

“The harbour of Khartul, one of the most important harbours in this part of the world and another reason why Khartul is the city of crossroads. This is one of my favourite places, looking out over the sea, wondering what is behind the horizon, what sail will be the next to show, what information will it carry. And I will be able to find out, one day.” the figure stops again, lifting her veil a little to drink a sip of tea.

“Because that is what I do. I drink tea and I know things.” With that, the figure laughs again and the camera zooms out, over the ocean before rising and showing the sprawling city for a moment before rapidly rising, showing the whole world for a moment before the blue flames engulf it, creating the “Road to Purgatory”-emblem.