Congratulations, you grounded soul, you belong in the practical, and practically magic-less, Grey London. At least you don't have to worry about spells and curses. Go grab yourself a pint at the Stone's Throw.

Congratulations, you whimsical creature, you belong in the vibrant city of Red London, a place where magic lives in everything. Take a stroll through the Night Market, and pick up a sea stone or a fire maker or a mask for the prince's ball.

Congratulations, you crafty, borderline sadistic being, you belong in the wasteland of White London, a place where power is king. Don't mind the bodies. Best keep a weapon handy.

Congratulations, you mysterious thing, you belong in the mythical shadows of Black London, a place where magic grew so strong it devoured everything and everyone. What's it like now? Well, you'll have to tell us. Mind the voices in your head. They aren't yours.