M A P O F T H E R E A L M:
VASILIUS, THE SEAT OF THE KING
Vasilius is unquestionably the kingdom's capital city, and the center of the realm for all major trade, academics, and political players. A vast and proud city, its streets and boroughs stretch forth from a focal point at the High Throne, which stands at the very center of the royal palace within the Garland Citadel. From here, High Lord Jocun presides with his wife, Queen Vesindra, his infant son, Prince Dahtun, and his many advisors, chief among them the Royal Warlock, Aborran.
Jocun is the fifth of his bloodline to rule the realm, and while many would admit him to be a strong and fair king, many others would question his conflictingly brazen and mysterious manner, some even citing arrogance and a blasé nature due to his family's long-uncontested rule.
What everyone can agree on, however, is the sheer toll that the Stone Blight is taking on the kingdom, with swathes of dead across the continent, and the psychological damage to the citizens by the unassuaged dread. Whether Jocun and those close to him are near a cure or not, no one can say - but every day that passes with the palace's silence is another day of growing unease across the kingdom at large.
EERUM, THE ARID BURG
Eerum, far south and deep within the Sychan Desert, was the first city to be discovered and assimilated into Vassidia and the kingdom of the Garland Lineage, rather than settled by Vassidian citizens proper. Originally a simple shared camping grounds and makeshift marketplace for the few aboriginal tribes of the desert, the tribal identity of the natives was worn away as trade routes and supply lines were opened, feeding barons and couriers into the desert, and allowing Eerum to become a township proper, rather than a few tents propped up around a vital spring of water.
Life in Eerum remains not without its hardships: the heat scorches the ground, making farming exceptionally difficult; trade routes bear caravans rarely, as few are capable of or willing to brave the desert, and fewer still make successful enough journeys to justify the expenditure versus the profit; water is scarce, and the single spring of freshwater that lies within Eerum's central square seems to run lower than ever. Those that 'make it' out here are barely more successful than a modest farmer in the mainland, and those than don't are beggars, dying beggars, or dead.
There is a growing unrest in Eerum - an anger in the people that surpasses anything felt in Vassidia proper. The palace has promised more frequent supply caravans, but the Stone Blight takes its toll on the kingdom, and Eerum is far from the only suffering community in need. The Sychan Desert, it seems, is set to swallow the city whole, like many before it - if the Stone Blight, or Eerum's own citizens, don't spell its downfall first.
KAFAARA, HOME OF THE PIOUS
Kafaara is the seat of power for the kingdom's dominant religion: the Barbed Church. Believers that the world, and all that inhabits it, are children of a great font of Magick, their first priests settled here long ago and built their first altar, which soon grew to a village, a town, and eventually an outright city centered around what was now a great cathedral.
For those who do not subscribe to the lessons and sermons given by the Church's many ministers, including their chief Pontiff Silvene, the First Thorn, and her Circle of Barbs, their practices can seem cultish, violent, and taboo; but for the Church's many followers, the rituals involved are a harmless, day-to-day appreciation of life and those who live it.
Kafaara is a wealthy city - no small thanks to the numerous donations made to the Church - and rich in culture, with many foreign followers of the Church making pilgrimages at least once in their life. It is a center for research against the Blight, though recently far more has been going into the city than has been coming out...
FERROS, THE IRON CITY
Ferros was first settled by a prolific blacksmith who discovered rich iron veins in the hills behind, and quickly seized the opportunity to begin a mining operation and become the early kingdom's nearly sole source of quality forged iron. Eventually the blacksmith's settlement grew and grew, and the iron was used to turn a hamlet into an armoured citadel, with great iron walls and gates and watchtowers.
The great iron city became a beacon for all ambitious and enterprising individuals, many would-be entrepeneurs trying - and often failing - to begin their fateful climbs to Vassidia's capital heights. The day-to-day proceedings of the city are guided by the Iron Council, a select group of rich and powerful individuals who lend a steady hand to the city's - and through it, the kingdom's - economy.
Recently, however, a usually booming hub of commerce has closed its gates and shut its markets - and more worryingly, its mines. The Council remains stubbornly silent to envoys and messengers, and the King grows impatient...
MARISMA, HEART OF THE MARSH
Marisma was founded by a small sect of zealous druids who has exiled themselves out of disgust for what they viewed as 'hedonistic excesses of man's machinations'. They traveled deep into the far south-west of the continent and had discovered there a sprawling marsh that encompassed an entire county's worth of land. It was in the heart of this marsh that they constructed their first homes amongst the trees and the swamp, many of them fashioning living spaces from huge, naturally-formed hollows with the trees themselves.
In the present era, Marisma is a naturalist's paradise, never really moving on from its forest-worshiping roots, and its inhabitants enjoys a straight-forward, if at times meager, living; simple survival within one of Vassidia's largest natural wonders. The people are friendly, provided you respect their beliefs and rules, and understanding of those who choose a life beyond the borders of the Great Marsh - though they still spurn most modern advances in smithing, economy, and agriculture.
There are rumours of a resurgence - perhaps reappearance - of those ancient druids, and more presently of unexplained disappearances. The Marsh feels thicker and more cloying than ever, and its previously open citizens grow more paranoid about each other and more fearful of the swamp every day - though everyone still staunchly refuses to leave...
MORNFELL ON MOUNTAINSIDE
Mornfell-on-Mountainside is potentially the oldest city of Vassidia, perhaps even out-dating the capital; although such rumours are easy to spread, given its relatively recent discovery on the far side of the Eastern Border Mountain-range, and difficult to quell, given the city archivists' reluctance to share their history with 'foreigners'.
Unquestionably the most inhospitable city of the kingdom, it owes its ruthless reputation to both the brutality of its mountainous location, and the xenophobia of its people. At its core is a towering, colossal bonfire - sustained by massive quantities of fuel and closely-guarded magick - out of which the city proper spirals its streets, channeling the fire down its main causeways to be siphoned into homes and buildings to supply the people with the heat vital to their survival. Many in the city blame their misfortunes on the opening of their gates to the rest of the kingdom - blame they do not spare the Stone Blight of either.
Lately, an already icy city has grown colder still, and its gates - once open in defiance of its people - are now closed in defiance of its High Lord. Still, scouts consistently report that its fire burns hotter, larger, brighter than ever, and many are left to wonder who remains within the mountain to tend to the flames.
