The Ambassador’s bodyguard quaked at the sight of the uniformed skeletons guarding the main gates of the royal palace. "Don’t be afraid," the Ambassador said. "They are King’s Bones, the monarch’s personal bodyguards, and are no threat to us unless we were to do something stupid like trying to attack His Majesty."
The city was cursed many years ago. Since then it has not stopped raining. The gutters are inhabited by eels and the doors are on the first floor, coated with pitch. On a bad day, you can see the water level rise above the ground floor windows. Carts have both wheels and bladders filled with air to keep them afloat. And yet everyone is surprisingly dry.