oseborough is a pleasant little sea-side resort, a place for vacationers, students of Magick and history, or pilgrims of a religious persuasion; the town welcomes a constant stream of visitors in every season of the year. In spring and summer the beaches are crowded with bathers, as Caladonians from every walk of life come to take the waters and refresh themselves; happy dogs chase sticks along the shore, and boats with gaily-painted sails bob in the blue sea. In winter and autumn, the weather closes in, blanketing the coast with rain and fog; during those months, the town is sustained almost entirely by travelers who come to see the Ring of Brodgar, that famous stone circle which was erected in ancient times to the north of the town.

The standing stones of the Ring are older than Roseborough, older than Caladon to the south, and perhaps older than any city that men have built in Arcanum. There is no historical record or living memory which tells us for what purpose these stones were raised, or when, or even by whom. Some say that the elves made the Ring; the Fair Folk still come here at times, and I have seen them lay hand or cheek against those stones as if seeking reassurance or solace in their solid, unwavering strength. In any case, whoever built it, the Ring is the site of a great enchantment; not only do watch-dials and compass needles spin wildly if brought within a mile of the place, but Seekers of Truth are drawn to the site as irresistibly as iron filings to a magnet.