In the beginning, there was ancient Tessalunarium, the fortified observatory of the emperor Tessa, who worshipped the cult of the moon. From the pinnacle of the crag, he tossed his opponents to their deaths, and in embittered guile, madness, and greed, turned his sacred site into an executioner’s waiting room. The estate was abandoned.
A few hundred years later, an abbey was built near the middle of the rock. Over the centuries, it climbed to the pinnacle, where the remains of the ancient palace were looted and decayed. The abbey caught fire and the manuscripts of its library burned.
Salouna has since served as the hideout of an exiled aristocrat, the domain of a itinerant hermit, a prison of war, and a short-lived, much haunted inn, around which a small town of bandits and drunks built shacks at the bottom of the crag. A piece of the old abbey fell into the town square, killing the king of the public house and his wife out for a stroll. The drunks fled.
Cities welcome multiple incarnations. They are always in the process of changing from one thing to the next, adding artifacts to artifacts, assuming new men, new ideas, and old fates.