The hallmark of a new Alliance; a safe place for the men of words to meet.
A fey kingdom fallen, with winter triumphant. A dream frozen, to be thawed by might and heroic deed.
No walls as far as the eye can see, no gate nor fence, only the mists and wind roam free over the open lands of Kevvar.
When society keeps getting more cosmopolitan, cities of mixed racial makeup start to appear. Neighborhoods dedicated to specific races will occur.
The place where the Sun-Lord Tacontar first spoke to his flock, and centre of his religion, heart and soul of a nation.
Concealed in a fold of space, there, watching, lies, a haven - refuge for a select few, as well as the most precious thing in the world.
As they travel they notice a horrible rotten smell. As they travel it gets stronger and stronger forcing them to cover their noses and mouth less they choke on the horrible smell. Rotting animal carcass that has been ripped apart and tracks all over, covered in maggots.