In the great town plaza the magnificent edifice of the Basilica of Kestidel has stood for many generations. This elaborate gothic structure is the hub of power of the clergy. It has been a bastion of faith for the surrounding lands. Not only have the spiritual affairs of the populace been governed here but also it is a centre of the community that has proved resolute in time of crisis, whether through war, pestilence or famine. In the myriad of crypts beneath its sanctified grounds lie interred many thousands of bones of the dead, as these crypts are the place of burial for the worshipers.
The Ellis of Kestidel is the main building to register as a citizen of Kestidel. It is located outside of the city and thus must have its own defenses.
Nestled among the smaller and less noticed store fronts, hidden among the sundry vendors, and purveyors of beads, cheap jewelry, and meat-on-a-stick products in a small building that smells strongly of hot linen, cotton, soap…and goblin.
To refer to Rubens a inn is an insult. There are no battered bars, or heaving bosoms, or the scent of stale beer and tobacco smoke. There are no crowded common rooms, or cheap entertainment. The flooring is plush, the rooms are exquisite, and the bill is out of this world…
This large shrine the god Sunglory, is not famous for religious reasons as for architectural reasons.
...In the hallowed halls of the University of Linnarson a glimpse may sometimes be caught of the Senior Masters, learned sages and masters of knowledge. They seldom leave their dusty studies full of learned tomes, other than to dine - each evening they will be found shuffling down the dimly lit corridors to the dark and shuttered Great Hall. After feasting at high table by candlelight they will be gone, returning once more to their studies. None but they know of their pact with death, how they have willingly embraced an eternal undeath in which to pursue knowledge, yet this is the reason for the darkened corridors and the shuttered hall, for those who are undead cannot abide the light of the sun…
The city of Nausopol is built on stilts. Lots of very sturdy stilts and butresses, of course, because it rises about five hundred feet from the ocean. Even the most terrific of storms is only heard in the city as a distant cacophony of blasts as waves strike the solid stonework fathoms below. It has never been attacked because of its isolation and impregnability.
It's not a place for the faint-hearted: vertigo and sea-sickness are not desirable traits. But when you are standing in the middle of the city there is no way you could tell that you were standing above an ocean, separated only by a gulf of air and a few stones.
A thousand steps lead down from Nausopol to the floating docks. These docks are pitch-coated wooden and can be raised by winches during squalls. Trade with other cities and countries is good: Nausopol is built over a sunken atoll whose minerals are still mined by divers, and it was from this that it originally derived its wealth.
But the principal method of getting to and from the city is by riding the giant sea-eagles which have been captured and bred for that very reason.