Places

Included: Fields Paths, Pinewood paths, Birchwood paths, Mountain paths, The Pine Forests, The Birchwood, The Seaside.

These areas are considered Wilderness areas. You may participate in combat in these areas exclusively. They are also areas in which you may roleplay. The Seaside is where we encourage people to fish. These are the areas that make up the most of Hangata's world.

Field Paths.
These are as they sound, paths winding through fields of dark grasses and scattered wildflowers, usually, you are able to see the edge of the pinewoods at their edges, they do not tend to roll on for very far in most areas, although there are exceptions; most often where people have worked to purposefully cut back the woods. They tend to be relatively safe, if only because you can, for the most part, see threats before they approach. Although on days when the omnipresent fog is densest, this advantage may be lost.

Pinewood Paths.
Paths winding through the pinewood, they do not tend to have the buffer of the fields between the trees and the path itself, as such, they can be somewhat threatening, if only due to the fact that they provide more coverage for threats at the roadside, at night they become terribly dark, and are not especially beloved for night travel; then again, nowhere is.

Birchwood Paths.
Paths through the birchwood, more well lit than the pinewood paths and beautiful in their splashes of gold and crimson, these tend to be pleasant if unnerving paths, the feeling of being watched is not an uncommon one, although that may be something one can blame on the trees themselves, given their eerie patterning.

Mountain Paths.
Paths through Hangata's mountains, most commonly ventured onto on one's way to Ikseo or Yr'Dor or on the way out of them, once upon a time these paths were traveled in the opposite direction as well to reach the Swansong Kingdom, but it's been many years since those roads were traveled. They wind carefully, sometimes through ravines, and one must be careful of predators stalking the cliff-tops. Dragons especially have a fondness for mountain peaks, and no qualms about eating other sapient creatures should they feel hungry.

The Pine  Forests.
Forests of various pines, sometimes, open spaced and sometimes clumped so closely together as to require squeezing through, groundcover ranges from none but a few sparse stones or old logs to dense with shrubbery, grasses, ferns, and more. At night, very little light tends to thread through them, save for especially sparse places. A variety of creatures make their homes here, and it isn't unusual to find the ruins of old buildings, towns, or similar lost to time. Because Hangata is a parasitic planet, it often consumes and spits out objects and even beasts from other worlds, these items tend to end up in a variety of places, but given the sheer expanse of the pinewoods, it's especially common for them to end up here; finding the rusted, moss eaten shell of a car, or an old and broken cellphone, is not out of the question.

The Birchwood.
Rolling, dizzying woods of birch, paper-pale barked with markings that sometimes look uncannily like eyes, if you see one blink it may be best to pretend you did not. Like the Pinewood, finding old, odd items from other worlds is not so unusual, hidden among the gilded grasses, tall grass, flat leaf litter, and dense shrubbery are the sorts of terrain to be expected in the birchwood. 

The Seaside.
The coast of Hangata is made up of glimmering black sand, the sea itself too tends to appear most often like a pool of spilled ink, dark, deep, full of various fish and beasts, treasures and threats alike. On calm days the surface is a flat mirror of black, reflective, but often enough the wind pushes at least small foamy waves up against the beach, rolling in shells and seaweed in clumps.

The City of Ker'Ringlorn

This is where the recorded history of Hangata's Current Age begins. It is within the towering castle that looms over the jagged seaside cliffs where the first Sphinx God was split into many, and it is still within those weathered walls that War resides, his presence as unwavering as the stone beneath him.

At first glance, Ker'Ringlorn seems a somber and foreboding place. The great black castle, its stones dark as the abyss, appears to have sprouted from the very rock of the cliffs, as though nature itself intended it to be there. The sea below, churning endlessly like spilled india ink, is a void—deep and impenetrable—its waters not the sparkling azure of idyllic shores but an almost spectral black, unsettling to the unfamiliar eye. It whispers of forgotten secrets and promises no easy welcome to travelers.

Yet, despite the foreboding atmosphere, the city of Ker'Ringlorn is far from the dreary prison it might first seem. The castle, though dark and heavy, is not a place of oppression. Bright banners of crimson, gold, and indigo flutter from parapets, shop signs painted in bold strokes hang from wrought iron hooks, and flower boxes overflow with vibrant blooms that spill out from windowsills. This riot of color and life transforms what could be a place of shadow into something more—a city alive, bustling, thriving against the odds. There is beauty here, though it is a beauty born of resilience, standing in stark contrast to the harsh landscape that surrounds it.

The economy flourishes in Ker'Ringlorn. Unlike so many rulers who hoard wealth and power, the castle's lord—War himself—does not sit upon riches like a dragon guarding treasure. He does not rule through fear or greed, but with an iron-fisted pragmatism. There is no famine here, no crippling poverty. The people are neither oppressed nor neglected. Instead, they are protected. Dangerous levels of poverty do not exist within these walls, for War has seen to it that all are provided for, as any general would care for his army. The strong protect the weak, and each has their place in the city’s careful design. Though hard work is expected, so too is loyalty rewarded.

But as with any place so steeped in history, Ker'Ringlorn is not without its rumors. The city and its people are the subject of whispered tales that spread like wildfire among travelers and traders. Some say the city is as cursed as its master, doomed to forever reflect the cold, unyielding nature of War himself. Others claim the people are not here by choice, but by some ancient spell of servitude, their loyalty more a chain than a vow. Still, others suggest darker things lurk in the castle's depths—unseen forces that bind the city to the cliffs, just as the waves below are bound to the tide. Yet most rumors, as with all places of mystery, remain only that—rumors. For those who live within Ker'Ringlorn, life continues undisturbed, a strange and fragile harmony in a city born from conflict yet defined by order.

The cliffs may stand tall and grim, but the heart of Ker'Ringlorn beats with the determination of its people. Beneath the shadow of War, they have built a city that, against all odds, thrives—not in defiance of its nature, but because of it.

The Plaza

The Plaza sits at the heart of the city, a bustling nexus not far from the imposing shadow of Castle War. It is a place of gathering and commerce, its cobblestones worn smooth by countless feet over the years. In the center stands a grand fountain, its stone carved with intricate reliefs of battles long past and victories won. Water spills gently from the mouths of stone serpents and lions, providing a steady, soothing backdrop to the sounds of city life. The fountain is not ostentatious, but it commands a presence, nestled comfortably among the daily activities of the Plaza without dominating the space.

Throughout the day, stalls are set up in neat rows, selling wares from across the continent and beyond. Traders call out their prices, their voices mixing with the laughter of children darting between them. There are crates filled with goods from across the region—fine silks, rare spices, polished trinkets, and hand-carved instruments. Alongside these, colorful blooms spill out of wooden boxes, brightening the Plaza with their reds, yellows, and violets. The scent of fresh bread and roasted meats drifts from nearby food carts, drawing hungry patrons to their fires.

The Plaza is a place of movement and life, where people meet, bargains are struck, and news is exchanged. But despite the hustle, a sense of order prevails. Members of War’s Guard patrol the area, their presence steady and reassuring rather than oppressive. Unlike in many cities where the sight of guards might invoke unease, here, the guards are well-regarded—friendly faces known to the locals. They exchange greetings with shopkeepers, offer directions to lost travelers, and occasionally assist in carrying a heavy load or settling a dispute between merchants. They are the unseen thread that holds the city's peace together, always watchful but never intrusive, their duty carried out with quiet professionalism.

Though Castle War looms in the distance, casting its long shadow over the Plaza, the space feels light and welcoming. People go about their business with an easy confidence, knowing that they are safe under the watchful eyes of their General. The Plaza, for all its bustling energy, remains a haven—a place where the vibrancy of city life flourishes just steps away from the castle’s formidable gates.

The Gilded Blade Tavern

There are many taverns in Ker'Ringlorn, but none hold quite the same reputation as The Gilded Blade. Nestled along a cobblestone street just a short walk from the city's central Plaza, this tavern is a favored haunt for many, including War himself. Its exterior is modest yet unmistakable—a sturdy wooden sign swinging gently above the door, emblazoned with the image of a gleaming sword, its hilt wrapped in gold leaf. Warm light spills from its windows, casting a welcoming glow onto the street even on the darkest of nights.

Inside, the atmosphere is alive with the steady hum of conversation, the clinking of tankards, and the occasional burst of laughter. The wooden beams overhead are dark with age, and the walls are adorned with shields, weapons, and faded banners from battles long past. Yet, for all its warrior's decor, The Gilded Blade is not a place of aggression but of camaraderie. Soldiers, merchants, travelers, and locals alike gather here to enjoy a hearty meal or a strong drink after a long day's work. The smell of roasted meat and freshly baked bread mingles with the scent of spiced ale and wine, a testament to the tavern's well-earned reputation for good food and drink.

The tavern's patrons come for more than just the sustenance, though. Here, one can sit by the fire and rest their bones or find themselves caught up in a game of cards or dice at one of the many worn tables scattered throughout the room. Gambling is a common pastime, with coin, trinkets, and favors changing hands in friendly, low-stakes games. Some nights, the air crackles with the tension of a higher-stakes bet, when seasoned gamblers challenge one another for rare goods or bragging rights. But even in the heat of a game, tempers remain cool—this is War’s favorite spot, after all, and no one dares disturb the peace in a place he holds dear.

Despite its bustling nature, The Gilded Blade manages to feel comfortable and relaxed. War himself has been known to frequent the tavern, and though his presence might seem intimidating, it only adds to the establishment's prestige. Those lucky enough to spot him seated in the corner with a drink in hand may find the courage to approach, but even if they don’t, the knowledge that he favors the place lends the tavern an air of respectability and safety.

It is a place where deals are made, stories are shared, and everyone—whether a hardened soldier or a wandering stranger—can find a moment's respite before venturing back into the storm of life beyond its doors.

Tern's Port

Just beyond the imposing walls of Ker'Ringlorn, nestled by the sea, lies the quiet town of Tern’s Port. It is a humble place, surrounded by gentle, rolling hills that seem to cradle it between the land and the vast, ever-present ocean. Many roads lead in and out of the town, winding through the countryside like veins, connecting it to the greater world beyond. Though its streets are not paved with riches, and its homes are modest at best, Tern’s Port carries an air of quiet contentment. The people here are not wealthy, but they are resourceful, and the town hums with the steady rhythm of daily life.

Dominating the landscape from one of the seaside hills is the town's largest structure—a sprawling, weathered mansion overlooking the endless waves. It is not ostentatious but grand in its own quiet way, a testament to the god who resides there. Wish, one of the more approachable deities of Hangata, makes his home here, his presence casting a benevolent influence over the town. From this mansion, Wish tends not only to his studies but also to the people of Tern’s Port. He runs a small clinic out of his home, offering care to those who cannot afford it or have been turned away by less compassionate healers. His clinic, though modest, is known for its kindness. Here, those who are most in need find solace, and even the most difficult cases are met with a gentle hand.

Despite its status as a port town, there are often few ships to be seen in Tern’s Port. The sea that stretches out beyond the docks is a fickle and dangerous thing, its deep, ink-black waters feared by even the most seasoned sailors. The few who dare to venture far offshore are regarded with both awe and concern. Most of the town's fishermen prefer to stay close to the shore, casting their nets from the docks or in the shallow waters where the sea feels less threatening. The town's wildlife—fat, raucous gulls and small, sleek sea-drakes—thrive in this environment, gorging themselves on the easy pickings. Their calls fill the air, a constant reminder of the ocean’s proximity.

Life in Tern’s Port is not easy, and for some, it can be a struggle to make ends meet. The town is not blessed with the wealth or grandeur of larger cities, and there are those who scrape by, barely eking out a living from the reluctant sea. Yet no one here starves. The close proximity to Ker'Ringlorn ensures that the people of Tern’s Port are cared for, watched over by both Wish and War. While Wish tends to their wounds and ailments, War ensures their protection. It is an unspoken balance—Tern’s Port may not be a place of riches, but it is a place where no one is left behind.

The mansion on the hill, overlooking the town and sea, stands as a quiet reminder of this balance. From its windows, Wish can see the entirety of Tern’s Port below him, from the weathered docks to the gently sloping hills beyond. He watches over them not as a distant god, but as a neighbor, a healer, and a friend.

The Town Itself

Tern’s Port is a tiny, quaint town that exudes charm with its weathered buildings, most of which are clad in bleached white siding, giving the settlement a sun-kissed, airy appearance. Many structures have been constructed from pale driftwood, harvested from the shore and lovingly crafted by local hands. The architecture is simple, yet each building carries the weight of stories told and retold, reflecting the lives of those who call this place home.

As you stroll through the town, you’ll notice the streets lined with delicate metal lanterns. Each evening, as the sun dips below the horizon and the sky transforms into a canvas of deep blues and purples, the lanterns come to life. Residents who live nearby take on the task of lighting them by hand, igniting flickering flames that cast a warm, inviting glow against the fading light. The soft illumination dances on the cobbled streets, guiding evening wanderers and creating an atmosphere of safety and community.

Amid the charming houses, a few small shops and eateries dot the landscape, each brimming with local character. The fishmongers are a staple of the town, their stalls vibrant with the day’s fresh catch pulled from the nearby waters. The scent of salt and seaweed mingles in the air, as the fishermen proudly display their haul, offering a range of fish and shellfish that reflect the bounty of the ocean. Customers are welcomed with friendly banter, the fishermen eager to share tales of the sea as they cut and prepare their goods.

In addition to the fishmongers, you’ll find small markets selling essential provisions—bread, vegetables, and local delicacies that showcase the region's culinary roots. Given its proximity to Wish’s clinic, the town is also an excellent place to procure medical supplies. Herbal remedies, bandages, and tonics can be found on the shelves of a modest apothecary, where the scent of dried herbs hangs in the air, providing a sense of reassurance to those who seek care.

Tern’s Port thrives on its sense of community and the interwoven lives of its inhabitants. Despite its size, there is an undeniable vibrancy here, where everyone knows their neighbor and a helping hand is always nearby. Whether gathering at the lantern-lit stalls, sharing a meal at a local eatery, or stopping by Wish’s clinic for a remedy, the people of Tern’s Port embody the spirit of resilience and kindness, turning the tides of their humble existence into a life rich with connection and care.

The Beach

The beach just outside of Tern’s Port stretches like a dark ribbon along the coastline, its black sands glistening under the sun, afading into the ink-dark waters of the sea. This shoreline is a place of solace and serenity, where the rhythmic sound of the surf provides a calming backdrop to daily life. Unlike the turbulent waters that lie farther offshore, this area tends to be relatively safe, offering a sense of security to those who venture out to fish [see: Fishing] or simply enjoy the unique beauty of the landscape.

Guards from Ker'Ringlorn are always just a call away, patrolling the area with a watchful eye. Their presence offers a layer of protection for the townsfolk.

The Town Itself

Ikseo is a small town tucked into the mountain's side, where steep paths wind between buildings and the air is always crisp, tinged with the scent of pine and cold stone. It is known primarily as the site of Kingsblood's temple, its gold and crimson banners rippling in the high-altitude breeze. The temple looms large over the town, its presence undeniable, almost as though the structure itself were a living part of the mountain.

By day, Ikseo is a quiet place, a still life of shuttered shops and empty streets. The town feels as though it sleeps, with only the occasional rustle of wind or birdcall breaking the silence. Few wander about during these hours, for the residents of Ikseo prefer the cool, veiled embrace of the evening. But as the sun dips behind the mountains and the sky darkens, the town awakens. Lanterns ignite one by one, their red, orange, and white glows painting the streets in a warm, almost magical light. Life floods back into the town, and not just in fleeting moments—Ikseo is alive with festivals. Nearly every night, a celebration unfolds, whether for a small gathering or a grand event, with music, dance, and reverence for the divine.

These festivals are not just occasional—they are the heartbeat of the town, a near-constant pulse that draws in travelers from distant places. Stalls burst open with offerings of spiced meats, colorful tapestries, and intricate jewelry, while fire-breathers, musicians, and storytellers entertain the crowds. For the people of Ikseo, festivals are not simply distractions but the core of their existence, a way of honoring Kingsblood, their lives, and each other. The town thrives on these moments of joy and revelry, and the temple grounds are often lit with the flicker of a hundred candles or glowing lanterns, casting long shadows that move like ghostly dancers across the mountain.

At the heart of Ikseo’s layout is a river, slow and deep, winding through the town like a serene guardian. Its waters are calm, dark, and rich with life—massive fish that swim lazily beneath the surface. Their scales shimmer in fiery hues of red and pale blue, catching the light of the lanterns as they drift by. It’s said that if one of these fish takes a peach from your hand, plucked from the ancient temple plaza trees, you are blessed with good fortune. Many festival-goers attempt the offering, and the rare few who succeed are treated with awe, for to be granted the favor of these creatures is no small feat.

Despite its size, Ikseo’s festivals draw crowds, and its streets are alive with people who have traveled far to be part of the town’s constant celebrations. The town may sleep during the day, but at night, it feels as if it holds the world’s joy within its lantern-lit streets, with each festival a reminder that life, even in the quietest corners of the mountains, is full of wonder.

The Festival

At night, when Ikseo truly awakens, so too does its endless festival. Ask anyone what the celebration is for, and you’ll get a different answer each time—an anniversary, a god’s blessing, the change of the moon. The real truth is far simpler: Kingsblood just loves a good party, and the people are happy to oblige.

Stalls line the streets in a chaotic array of colors and scents, selling everything from crispy fried snacks to delicate sweets that melt on the tongue. The air is thick with the sizzling of grills, the fragrance of spiced meats, and the sound of laughter. The food stalls are the heart of the festival, drawing visitors with promises of exotic flavors from every corner of Hangata. Between bites, guests wander toward the game booths, where endless entertainment awaits.

Children and adults alike try their hand at the mermaid catching games, where instead of ordinary fish, tiny mermaids dart beneath the surface of enchanted ponds, their luminous scales winking in the lantern light. Winners are rewarded with the delicate creatures themselves, kept as pets or brought to stands and used to make a variety of food themselves. Shadow puppet shows add to the lively ambiance, casting flickering silhouettes of epic tales and whimsical creatures across the walls.

Masks are ever-popular, crafted in bright colors or eerie designs, giving the wearer a new face for the night. Each mask is a character, an invitation to become someone else, if only for a few hours. The festival never quite ends; it pauses with the dawn and resumes as soon as the first lantern is lit.

The Teahouse

The Teahouse of Ikseo stands not far from Kingsblood's temple, framed by a meticulously tended garden that seems untouched by time. At its heart is a grand, ancient tree, its twisting branches forever heavy with delicate pink blossoms. These blooms never wither, even as the seasons shift around them, as though the tree has been blessed by Kingsblood himself. Visitors often pause beneath it, some swearing they can hear the whispers of long-forgotten stories carried on the wind.

The building itself is one of the town's largest and most elegant, rising multiple stories, its redwood exterior polished to a rich gleam. Delicate doors, painted with care and made from layers of paper, separate its rooms, adding an air of quiet privacy to the bustling establishment. Inside, guests are greeted by the fragrant scent of tea and incense, the soft murmur of conversations, and the laughter of those who have come to forget their troubles, if only for a while.

Outside, the garden is dotted with carefully fenced springs, their warm, mineral-rich waters bubbling softly. These springs serve dual purposes—both as outdoor baths for those seeking relaxation under the stars, and as the source for the Teahouse's private indoor baths, where steam curls lazily against lacquered walls.

Despite its humble name, the Teahouse offers more than just tea. It operates as a hotel, a sanctuary for travelers looking to rest in luxury, and a high-class brothel, where indulgence and discretion walk hand-in-hand. Here, elegance reigns supreme, from the finely crafted tea sets to the soft whispers behind closed doors. And whether one comes seeking tea, a place to stay, or something more intimate, all are welcomed with a warm, practiced smile.

Yr'Dor

Yr'Dor stands as the pinnacle of modernity in Hangata, a city where dark stone and wrought iron dominate the skyline, casting long, stoic shadows over cobbled streets slick with rain. It has the imposing air of a Victorian metropolis, the kind where lamps flicker in the evening gloom and the sound of horse-drawn carriages clatters over stone. The buildings are sturdy and imposing, their construction so precise that even the harshest elements seem unable to touch them.

This is Whiteout’s domain, where control is wielded from behind curtains, far from the public eye. Though he sits atop a network of legitimate businesses—factories that churn out everything from fine textiles to the latest in radio technology—his true empire runs in the shadows. An intricate web of organized crime keeps Yr'Dor in check, its tendrils reaching into every alley and marketplace. Information flows as swiftly as the rivers that crisscross Hangata, and his agents are ever-present, reporting back to him with terrifying efficiency.

Justice in Yr'Dor is immediate and uncompromising. Crimes are met with a response so swift, it's as if the city itself is alive, watching every move, ensuring that order is maintained. And yet, despite the iron grip of its ruler, the city is not without charm. Its rainy, mountain-bound atmosphere, often draped in mist and grey skies, lends it an almost romantic air, softened by the vibrant splashes of color from storefronts and hanging banners.

Yr'Dor is a hub of technology, the most advanced of its kind in Hangata. Radios hum in almost every home and café, delivering news from across the continent, while the marketplace bustles with the newest gadgets and luxury goods. It’s a shopper's paradise, where the wealth of the world seems to converge. But perhaps most surprisingly, it is the safest city in all of Hangata. Despite the crime that lingers beneath the surface, Whiteout ensures that nothing threatens the peace of his carefully crafted empire. Beneath the dreary rain, Yr'Dor thrives, a city of secrets, shadows, and safety.

The City

The city of Yr'Dor is carved from the bones of the mountain itself, its streets flanked by towering buildings of dark stone, their facades softened only by the decorative wrought iron gates and balconies that seem to stretch into the mist. Tall, slender lamps line every street, running on real electricity that hums faintly through the rain-soaked air, a testament to the city’s modernity amidst the otherwise low-tech world of Hangata. The people here are as varied as they are numerous—traders, artisans, inventors, and aristocrats walk the same damp streets. Though they may not all be friendly, they share one trait: a profound respect for the laws of their enigmatic ruler.

In Yr'Dor, even the boldest souls tread carefully. To cross Whiteout, the city's unseen yet omnipresent master, is to invite ruin. His justice is swift, his reach unrelenting. Most citizens know better than to test the boundaries, and those who stray quickly find themselves brought back in line, often without anyone else ever knowing it happened. It's a city of secrets, but also one of remarkable peace, where even the slightest infraction can feel like shouting into the void, only to be met with a crushing silence.

The weather is rarely kind in Yr'Dor. Most days are marked by a perpetual drizzle, a mist that clings to skin and clothes, darkening the streets and casting the city in shades of grey. But no one seems to mind. Umbrellas are as common as shoes, and for those caught unprepared, it’s never hard to duck into a nearby café, shop, or tavern for a hot drink and a seat by the fire. Despite the wet and the gloom, the city's mood is far from bleak.

Its people are well-off, prosperous under Whiteout's reign, and they know how to indulge in their fortunes. Lavish parties are a regular occurrence, the kind where music spills out of great, gilded doors, and laughter echoes in the streets. The city's wealthiest citizens open their homes to nearly anyone during these celebrations, embracing a culture of open-door hospitality that belies the strict control of the city's darker elements. Holidays are taken to their grandest extremes, no expense spared in the decorations or feasts, and rumor has it that Whiteout himself has a fondness for a certain Winter holiday. Though he rarely shows his face, whispers suggest he enjoys the warmth and spirit of the season, perhaps a remnant of a time when his life was less burdened.

Still, even during the coldest, darkest months, Yr'Dor remains vibrant. Lanterns glow warmly against the rain-soaked streets, and from every corner comes the hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, and the soft murmur of a city alive with mystery.

The Glass Wisteria

The Glass Wisteria, Whiteout’s bar, is a refuge from the cold drizzle of Yr'Dor’s streets, its doors opening into a world of warmth and luxury. The interior is a feast for the senses, with walls of dark black woods polished to a mirror sheen, sultry reds that accent the decor, and flashes of gold leaf that catch the flickering light. Behind the bar, bottles of rare liquors glisten like jewels, many of them enchanted with subtle, magical effects—drinks that can offer fleeting glimpses of forgotten dreams or a brief moment of impossible clarity. The selection is unmatched, each pour expensive and worth every coin.

The atmosphere inside is intimate, almost seductive. There’s always a soft haze in the air, drifting lazily from the back rooms where patrons indulge in various forms of smoking. Be it finely rolled cigars, herbs from distant corners of the continent, or more exotic vices, it’s all on offer here, and if you find yourself running low, the bar is well-stocked to keep the night rolling. The haze lingers in the air, but it’s never oppressive. Hidden vents, discreetly built into the bar’s walls, ceiling, and floors, ensure that the air remains fresh, filtering in the cool, salty breeze from the mountain-sea outside.

The seating is a mix of cozy stools at the bar for those who prefer to chat with the bartenders or keep an eye on the bottles, and plush circular booths of crushed red velvet for more private conversations. The lighting is low, casting soft shadows that flicker across the gilt accents, giving the place an almost dreamlike quality. Every detail, from the faint hum of conversation to the gentle clink of glasses, is designed to make you forget the dreariness outside and lose yourself in the bar’s opulent embrace.

Rumor has it that somewhere within The Glass Wisteria lies Whiteout’s true base of operations. It’s said that behind one of the bar’s many doors, perhaps hidden in plain sight, is the nerve center of his entire operation. But few ever see it, and fewer still know how to access it. For most patrons, it’s enough to sip their drinks and bask in the bar's luxurious glow, feeling like they’re brushing up against power without ever getting too close.

The Shops

The shopping districts of Yr'Dor are a testament to the city's opulence and its citizens' penchant for spending. With more money than time, the people of Yr'Dor have made shopping into something of an art form. Sprawling streets wind through the heart of the city, lined with storefronts that spill their lavish displays onto the cobblestone sidewalks. The buildings themselves often house multiple shops, creating something like a low-tech, Victorian-era mall where everything from rare trinkets to high-end fashion can be found just steps apart.

It’s not just about what you buy, but how you experience it. The air is filled with the scent of freshly baked pastries from high-end bakeries, while the sound of merchants haggling over rare, fantastic goods echoes around you. Shops glitter with displays of jewelry, vibrant silks, and finely crafted weapons—some enchanted, others simply beautiful in their rarity. There’s food in abundance as well, whether you’re after gourmet meals or street snacks from the occasional vendor tucked between the more polished establishments

While luxury is certainly the norm, not everything in Yr'Dor is beyond reach. Every now and then, you’ll find something surprisingly affordable—a small shop tucked away in an alley that sells curious, useful trinkets or even a high-end merchant offering discounts on particularly intriguing items. It's the thrill of the unexpected find that keeps people coming back to these districts, even when they tell themselves they’re only window-shopping.

Navigating the maze of shops, it's easy to get swept up in the hustle and bustle. Crowds fill the streets with a blend of locals and visitors, all seeking something to satisfy their whims. And even if you leave with your pockets lighter, it’s never without the satisfaction of knowing that somewhere in these sprawling districts, there’s always more to discover. Whether you're after something practical, magical, or purely ornamental, Yr'Dor’s markets have it all.

The Pantheon's Temple stands as a magnificent and enigmatic structure, nestled within the ethereal boundaries of time and space. Crafted from striking gray marble, its towering walls are adorned with a lush tapestry of climbing ivy, vibrant flowers, and soft moss that envelop the stone in a comforting embrace. The flora seems to breathe life into the temple, spilling from cracks in the floor and cascading over the altars, creating a harmonious blend of nature and the divine.

As you step inside, the air is thick with reverence and possibility. The temple is home to lifelike statues of the gods, each one captured in exquisite detail, from the delicate curve of a smile to the intensity of a gaze that seems to pierce through the ages. These statues, perched upon their grand altars, evoke a sense of wonder, as though they might stir to life at any moment, should the gods themselves choose to grace their sanctuary with their presence.

This sacred space serves as a pivotal moment for newly vesseled souls, those who awaken in a fresh body for the first time. Here, they find solace and guidance, a safe haven to gather their thoughts and acclimate to their new existence. The only exit from the temple leads to the faction base, marking the beginning of their journey. It is a space designed for connection, where newly awakened souls can mingle, share their experiences, and seek advice from others who find themselves in similar circumstances.

For those who wish to commune with the gods, the altars offer a perfect opportunity. A quiet prayer can beckon their attention, inviting divine intervention or simple guidance. The temple stands not just as a place of worship but as an inviting sanctuary for new players, a threshold into the world of Pawns & Pantheons. While beginning your journey here is not a requirement, it is a fine choice for those feeling nervous or uncertain. Within these hallowed walls, the sense of community and shared experience offers a gentle nudge into the greater adventure that awaits.

NOTE:

Unsure of where to begin roleplaying? The temple chat welcomes paragraph roleplay as well as chatplay, and it's an excellent place to get your bearings and meet your fellow players.