Triastu. The City of the Three. The Hallowed City. Triastu is the holy city of Trianarianism, and is the home of the Trirex. Many have paid homage to it, and many have gone on pilgrimages to it, and have marveled in its beauty.
As with many small towns Clarksdale has its share of secrets. Travellers that pass through are treated warmly, and are encouraged to stay for the upcoming celebration...
Celebrations can be found everywhere: from the big city to your local township. Sometimes the smaller locales can have the richest of all celebrations since they are more personal. Dayern’s Hamlet is one of those places.
Easily the largest city in the entire land of Yokaru and home to the infamous Keepers, Zibaba is a place simply teeming with the wild and rugged spirit of the bush. Welcome to the safari city.
Bayaallatalstonescha is a beautiful city. That by itself is not saying much, as all Elventi cities are beautiful. Bayaallatalstonescha is called beautiful by Elventi, one of the few places they actually apply that term to. It is on level peak on a tall mountain not too far from the ocean shore. In fact, on a clear day, one can see the ocean from appropriate places in the city.
Payan is an ancient city that covers a huge area (40 some square miles), with over 4000 Temple and Religious buildings.
The City of Thierry is colored by two key beliefs of the city people. The first belief is that the color red is the color of strength, prowess, and courage. The second belief is that the Darbeast is a creature of great spiritual power.
The city of Assalus is surrounded by a sea of deep green life. It surrounded by jungle. It requires magic and/ or constant attention to keep the roads clear to and from the city.
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.