"Know that in those days, oh Prince, the City of Python bestrode the roaring river beside the Windark Sea; the moon haunted towers stretching unto the sky and piercing the clouds. And the people of the city became rich from trade and from war and their craftsmen grew skilled indeed. But a darkness came, the people grew old in guile, the shadows lengthened and the City earned a new name - Python, of the Purple Towers, lair of the Jade Beast.
Where did the darkness creep from? Was it there already, waiting? Or was it summoned, across nighted gulfs by the evil and greed building in the hearts of the Guilds of Python?
Who now speaks of the cataclysmic fall of Python? Of the Shattering of the Beast? None but sages, fenced about by wisdom, or the cultist, enamoured of evil. In a blasting violence the very towers that, eyeless, speared the sky, fell and with them the City of Python and the sea rolled in, the hills flooded in a purifying wave and the land was changed.
The seas retreated and the river ran through ruins; the land was damp, boggy and few save fisherfolk ventured the unchancy bywaters. And the City of Wonders, Purple Towered Python was forgotten.
But now tales are heard, of shards of jade fished up, or found in the ruins; of wealth hidden in dank crab fested tunnels. There are disappearences, boats vanish, howlings in the night and simple fishermen sharpen harpoons and hope for deliverance, of heroes. And they come, to stalk the ruins, to hunt for treasure, to best the evil that lurks in the heart of the Wallow, the swamp that was Python.