You’ve fled to Ketterdam for a new beginning.

In your old country, Fjerda, you were accused of being an extremely strong Grisha and as the drüskelle investigated your case, your whole plan to flee began. You made deals with traders, sailors, anyone you could find to help you escape your death. You were due to be hanged on your birthday, which made the pressure worse. Since you were Grisha, it made everything strike you harder as fleeing meant leaving behind your non-Grisha friends and not even being able to warn them of your power of your escape.

Two cruel weeks later.

You had made it to Ketterdam, now looking for a placed to hide and shelter for the time-being… Until you heard talk of “The Crow Club.” You asked directions around town, eventually finding your way there.

There was a faint haze of smoke hanging in the air, clinging to the low ceiling. A few lanterns were hung from the wooden beams that supported the upper floor of the club that was accompanied by the main crew of the Dregs. Small tables, chairs, and stools were scattered about the room, leaving little room to move freely. The walls were painted a deep scarlet color which matched the velvet fabric placed, somehow, neatly on the furniture. The floor was covered with a thick layer of sawdust and the smell of alcohol and sweat lingered in the air. Kaz made his way through the crowd, making sure no one was cheating the other drunks. As always, he had an eye for trouble and wouldn't hesitate to step in if someone tried to take advantage of someone else.

The Crow Club was a place of business and he was its master. Some people feared him, while others respected him for what he had created since the young age of 14. The environment around him was one of chaos and fun, yet with a fair part of tension and awaiting violence. It was a balance he had grown used to, the chaos a comfortable place to be in his black and white mind.

Kaz slowly walked through the crowd in the Crow Club, the drunken bodies moving around him.