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‎πŸ“– Journal of DeLuna — Entry IX: Beyond the Red Winds‎


‎Before I arrived, I had already heard of Dunskar.
‎Everyone has.
‎They speak of it as a city of excellence—
‎a place where only the capable thrive,
‎where talent gathers, and power refines itself.
‎To outsiders, Dunskar is overwhelming.
‎Everything here feels… elevated.
‎The weapons are sharper.
‎The craftsmanship, precise.
‎Even the people—
‎stronger.
‎It is not merely perception.
‎The leyline that runs beneath the city does not discriminate. Those who live here, breathe here, endure its presence… are shaped by it.
‎Strength, in Dunskar, is not optional.
‎It is inevitable.
‎And yet…
‎the longer I stayed, the more that image began to fracture.
‎Dunskar is not extraordinary because it lifts everyone.
‎It is extraordinary because it refuses to carry those who cannot keep up.
‎Other nations view it with caution.
‎And necessity.
‎No one wishes to stand against Dunskar—
‎but few can afford to ignore it.
‎When danger rises beyond control,
‎when monsters spread,
‎when ruins awaken—
‎they call for Dunskar.
‎Not its king.
‎Not its army.
‎But its people.
‎Guild members are sent across borders, hired as solutions to problems others cannot solve. Entire regions have been cleared, secured, or reclaimed through their intervention.
‎Of course—
‎nothing here is ever free.
‎There are whispers, too.
‎Of what Dunskar produces… unintentionally.
‎From its lowest depths emerge figures unlike any other—
‎criminals shaped by the same forces that strengthen its heroes.
‎They are called Red Hunters.
‎Not mere thieves or killers,
‎but individuals hardened beyond reason—products of survival, rejection, and the relentless pressure of the system.
‎The Guild tracks them. Hunts them.
‎Places bounties as if they were monsters.
‎Perhaps… that is what they have become.
‎As for those who come from outside…
‎Dunskar does not reject them.
‎But neither does it embrace them.
‎There is no law forcing outsiders to follow its ways. One may pass through as a traveler, admire its markets, taste its strange luxuries—meat carved from creatures that should not exist, tools crafted with impossible precision.
‎For a time… it can even feel wondrous.
‎But to stay is different.
‎To live here… is to change.
‎Or rather—
‎to be changed.
‎Very few outsiders rise.
‎The gap is too great.
‎Those born within Dunskar are shaped from the beginning—by the leyline, by the system, by expectation itself.
‎Those who arrive later must catch up…
‎or fall behind.
‎Most do the latter.
‎Dunskar stands as something rare in this world.
‎A kingdom both admired and feared.
‎Needed, yet never trusted.
‎Superior in many ways—
‎and unbearably demanding in all of them.
‎I once thought Dunskar was a place one could conquer.
‎Now I understand—
‎Dunskar is not a place you conquer.
‎It is a place that decides
‎what you are worth.

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