The Pyramid Club is a place of myth and legend in the city of Notero. Many claims it doesn't exist, whilst others claim to be regulars. Those who claim to visit The Pyramid Club are certainly lying, as if you were to boast about your membership so openly, the proprietor would doubtless have your head. The Pyramid Club is real, and Calendar Jones found out the hard way.

Once upon a time, Calendar Jones was a rising star in the world of journalism. She started with a humble background distributing a handmade gossip zine that she distributed during the Open Market on the first Glinday of the month. Soon Cal had enough saved for a camera, and it wasn't long before her work was featured in the Notero Gazette. Three years later, she was running a weekly column documenting the lives of folks the Noteran could only imagine. From interviews with famous adventurers to coverage of the Pastorian elite, Cal had written it all. 

When rumours started spreading that the former wife of a Viridian aristocrat relocated to Notero to start a criminal empire, Cal knew that she needed to get the inside scoop. After months of leads turning dry, the young journalist was just about to give up. That's when she heard a knock at her apartment door. She answered the door only to find a note at her feet.

Meet me at the docks at midnight.

There was no signature. 

Meeting a stranger like this was dangerous, Cal knew. That was the exciting bit.

It was just about midnight, and Cal was standing near the fish market. Should she walk to the other side of the docks? Was this all just a prank? Worse yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone, or something, was watching her. A shadow dashed past her eye, and she turned around.

"Who's there?" She called out into the night.

The answer came when a bright light suddenly appeared, flooding her vision. She could make out a figure approaching her before the drowsiness set in, and Calendar succumbed to magical sleep.

When Cal awoke, she was lying on a green sofa in an office of some sort. She could hear the faint sound of music coming from outside this room. A mahogany desk was in the center of the room and behind it was a woman with honey-colored skin and brown eyes. Atop her head was a gorgeous collection of short black curls. Cal could make out the tips of horns poking through the woman's hair. She was hell-touched.

The woman took a drag of a cigarette before she spoke.

"Good morning."

Cal tried to speak. Nothing came out. She tried to touch her hands to her throat, only to discover that one of her arms was attached to a manacle placed in the stone wall of this room. 

"Yes. Well, we can't have you going around telling everyone about what you see here tonight." The woman shoved her cigarette in the ashtray and stood up. She was wearing a dark blue cocktail dress, the color of the ocean at night. Her heels clicked on the wooden floorboards as she walked towards Cal.

"You have two options. We chop off both of your hands, and you leave here without your speaking voice, or you can use that pretty little hand to sign this." The woman produced a document and pen from thin air.

"All I ask for in return is your cooperation. Ensure that the Noteran public sees the world just the way they ought to." 

Calendar spit on the woman. She may have used magic to take away her voice, and she might be threatening to cut off her hands, but no one will take away her ethics.

The woman wiped the saliva from her face, barely maintaining her composure. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this. Bring in the girl!" 

Two soldiers brought forward a young girl who looked Cal but more youthful, with the same dark skin and doe eyes. "Cal. What's happening?" The younger sibling had tears cascading down her face, seemingly unable to stop. 

With reluctance, Cal reached for the pen in the woman's hand. 

"I thought that might provide you with some... inspiration." The woman smiled wickedly as Cal signed away everything she ever believed in.