It was clear and starry that faithful night that he wrote the heavens out of existence. It had been an accident, one that he was completely unaware of, and as he sat in front of a blank manuscript, it hit him, that dreaded fit of writer's block. He did everything that he could to ward it off, but the dastardly thing was there to stay and, after a fit of doing nearly everything but sitting on his head (while the idea did cross his mind), an idea finally did come to him. What if the stars disappeared from the sky, and what if those stars, placed mysteriously in the heavens, were each their own world? What would happen to those poor people with no place to call their own? His quill quickly went to work, and he began to write as if possessed; it was his best idea yet!
Funny how certain ideas just never seem to stay to one's self.
It came on fast like a summer's storm, and one by one the stars flickered out of existence from the night sky. The young writer's seemingly harmless story had become a reality, and many found their worlds disappearing before them in a flash. Before they had any recollection of what had happened to them, however, they found themselves in a world unfamiliar and strange with an empty head, not knowing where they had come from or how they arrived where they were in the first place. And where, do you ask, did these hapless heroes and villains alike pop up?
Welcome to Serendipity, a thriving renaissance-era town surrounded on all sides by an impenetrable wall. The stars and moon shine here just a bit too brightly, and the city itself is caught in a perpetual night. Ask anyone from town about the world outside, and you'll get the same answer all around; "What outside world?" Oh dear...
People they fall apart
No one can stop us now
'Cause we are all made of stars
-- Moby, We Are All Made of Stars