Praȳa
City of Wonders
Praȳa, the City of Wonders, earned its name from the wondrous and eccentric behavior of its citizens — and rightly so. Without Praȳa and its sister city, Lauenburg, the County of Falkenstein would be little more than an insignificant march within the Thallands.
Yet, while Lauenburg holds the title of Falkenstein’s capital, it is Praȳa that serves as the true commercial heart of the Thallands. Indeed, if it weren't for Vorilios, Praȳa would be the largest city in all the Realms.
Though not quite as cosmopolitan as Vorilios, Praȳa boasts its own unique, bohemian lifestyle. It is the only non-capital in the Thallands privileged with borough rights — a distinction granted to only a handful of settlements across the Realms. These special privileges allow Praȳa a degree of self-governance, including the right to decree its own laws, provided they do not contradict the county's authority. Notably, Praȳa is the only city in the Realms to have exercised this privilege to grant goblins full citizenship rights, among other groundbreaking reforms. Praȳa has forged its destiny by strategically diverting the flow of one of the most important river trading routes on the Northern Continent — the Behrûn River. In recent history, it was dominated for nearly a century by a notorious dwarven crime lord. It hosts the largest dwarven trade market outside of Khazad-nu-Dûrinbar and leads the Realms in pioneering medical inventions and procedures within its renowned House of Ills.
The city remains a barony under the jurisdiction of the County of Falkenstein, ruled by Baron Ludwig von Südlau. To ensure the city's compliance with county laws, the Count maintains a garrison in Praȳa, led by his Proconsul, Answald Rabenwehr — a fact that rankles some of the city's patricians. For years, a faction of patricians within the baron's council has campaigned for Praȳa's independence as a free city, akin to Vorilios. These proposals have consistently been rejected by other council members, who argue that Praȳa neither possesses nor can afford its own army, making it vulnerable to Falkenstein — or worse, conquest by Abensberg. However, with the Count of Falkenstein mysteriously missing and the county descending into turmoil, the patricians’ cause is gaining traction, especially as ominous signs indicate that Abensberg is preparing for war.
Adding to these tensions are delicate negotiations regarding mining rights in the foothills of Nargûrinbar and the northern mountain range. Historically leased by the dwarves to the Count of Falkenstein, these mining rights now hang uncertainly in the balance with the Count's disappearance, leaving Praȳa fearful that these lucrative agreements might instead fall into the hands of rivals such as Primyat or Abensberg. A dwarven delegation from the Kingdom of Dûrinbar, headed by Lynheid Billungsdottr — ambassador to the human realms and Zardûna of Khazad-nu-Dûrinbar — is currently in Praȳa to negotiate these contracts. Though Lynheid has visited the city many times before, she has never appeared so short-tempered and troubled.
Meanwhile, Georg von Carlenberg, son of Baron Heinz von Carlenberg of the Nordmark, meddles persistently in council affairs, undoubtedly pursuing his own ambitions. The recent arrival of survivors from Friedrichshain, bearing grim tidings from northern Falkenstein, has further complicated matters as they desperately try to rally support for a relief force. Rumors also speak of something fiery streaking across the night sky, akin to a comet, crashing into the nearby swamps of Stratholme. And in Westbank, the talk of the town revolves around a peculiar—and purportedly magical—faire that has just opened its gates on the western bank of the Behrûn River.
Yet, while Lauenburg holds the title of Falkenstein’s capital, it is Praȳa that serves as the true commercial heart of the Thallands. Indeed, if it weren't for Vorilios, Praȳa would be the largest city in all the Realms.
Though not quite as cosmopolitan as Vorilios, Praȳa boasts its own unique, bohemian lifestyle. It is the only non-capital in the Thallands privileged with borough rights — a distinction granted to only a handful of settlements across the Realms. These special privileges allow Praȳa a degree of self-governance, including the right to decree its own laws, provided they do not contradict the county's authority. Notably, Praȳa is the only city in the Realms to have exercised this privilege to grant goblins full citizenship rights, among other groundbreaking reforms. Praȳa has forged its destiny by strategically diverting the flow of one of the most important river trading routes on the Northern Continent — the Behrûn River. In recent history, it was dominated for nearly a century by a notorious dwarven crime lord. It hosts the largest dwarven trade market outside of Khazad-nu-Dûrinbar and leads the Realms in pioneering medical inventions and procedures within its renowned House of Ills.
The city remains a barony under the jurisdiction of the County of Falkenstein, ruled by Baron Ludwig von Südlau. To ensure the city's compliance with county laws, the Count maintains a garrison in Praȳa, led by his Proconsul, Answald Rabenwehr — a fact that rankles some of the city's patricians. For years, a faction of patricians within the baron's council has campaigned for Praȳa's independence as a free city, akin to Vorilios. These proposals have consistently been rejected by other council members, who argue that Praȳa neither possesses nor can afford its own army, making it vulnerable to Falkenstein — or worse, conquest by Abensberg. However, with the Count of Falkenstein mysteriously missing and the county descending into turmoil, the patricians’ cause is gaining traction, especially as ominous signs indicate that Abensberg is preparing for war.
Adding to these tensions are delicate negotiations regarding mining rights in the foothills of Nargûrinbar and the northern mountain range. Historically leased by the dwarves to the Count of Falkenstein, these mining rights now hang uncertainly in the balance with the Count's disappearance, leaving Praȳa fearful that these lucrative agreements might instead fall into the hands of rivals such as Primyat or Abensberg. A dwarven delegation from the Kingdom of Dûrinbar, headed by Lynheid Billungsdottr — ambassador to the human realms and Zardûna of Khazad-nu-Dûrinbar — is currently in Praȳa to negotiate these contracts. Though Lynheid has visited the city many times before, she has never appeared so short-tempered and troubled.
Meanwhile, Georg von Carlenberg, son of Baron Heinz von Carlenberg of the Nordmark, meddles persistently in council affairs, undoubtedly pursuing his own ambitions. The recent arrival of survivors from Friedrichshain, bearing grim tidings from northern Falkenstein, has further complicated matters as they desperately try to rally support for a relief force. Rumors also speak of something fiery streaking across the night sky, akin to a comet, crashing into the nearby swamps of Stratholme. And in Westbank, the talk of the town revolves around a peculiar—and purportedly magical—faire that has just opened its gates on the western bank of the Behrûn River.
Demographics
While Thalländer humans dominate Praȳa's demographics, the city has cultivated vibrant communities of elves, dwarves, and goblins, as well as occasional Karovian and Rhôndhale families who've chosen to settle here. Praȳa's distinctive bohemian culture, heavily influenced by the city's powerful Patrician merchant families, thrives thanks to this rich diversity.
In a city celebrated for its wonders, newcomers often find themselves astonished by Praȳa’s eclectic charms. Yet even its long-time residents, who have grown accustomed to the extraordinary, occasionally encounter sights that compel them to pause. Strangest among these might be the small community of gnomes residing in Westbank.
No one knows precisely where these gnomes migrated from, and when pressed, they dismiss inquiries with a cheerful smile and gentle deflection. Many gnomes have taken up professions as gardeners or animal caretakers, sought after for their exceptional affinity with plants and creatures. Others, driven by curiosity, have enrolled at Universitätsstadt, Praȳa's renowned academy of magic, which itself draws students and scholars from across the Realms.
While goblins enjoy full citizenship rights in Praȳa, subtle prejudices linger—though most Praȳans would never openly admit this. Consequently, goblins often find themselves relegated to menial roles. Nevertheless, many goblins have successfully risen above these constraints, gaining prominence as influential figures in the city's underworld, proprietors of taverns, merchants, and even respected city guards.
Elves and dwarves typically pursue roles as blacksmiths, artificers, scholars, and artisans. The dwarven population is especially notable due to Praȳa hosting the largest dwarven trade market outside Khazad-nu-Dûrinbar, attracting dwarven merchants and craftsmen eager to capitalize on economic opportunities. Additionally, the city's pioneering medical advancements within its renowned House of Ills have made Praȳa a beacon for healers, physicians, and scholars seeking cutting-edge knowledge.
Occasionally, the city's prominence as a major trade hub brings merchants, adventurers, and diplomats from distant lands far beyond the Thallands, adding a transient but intriguing exotic element to Praȳa's already vibrant population.
In a city celebrated for its wonders, newcomers often find themselves astonished by Praȳa’s eclectic charms. Yet even its long-time residents, who have grown accustomed to the extraordinary, occasionally encounter sights that compel them to pause. Strangest among these might be the small community of gnomes residing in Westbank.
No one knows precisely where these gnomes migrated from, and when pressed, they dismiss inquiries with a cheerful smile and gentle deflection. Many gnomes have taken up professions as gardeners or animal caretakers, sought after for their exceptional affinity with plants and creatures. Others, driven by curiosity, have enrolled at Universitätsstadt, Praȳa's renowned academy of magic, which itself draws students and scholars from across the Realms.
While goblins enjoy full citizenship rights in Praȳa, subtle prejudices linger—though most Praȳans would never openly admit this. Consequently, goblins often find themselves relegated to menial roles. Nevertheless, many goblins have successfully risen above these constraints, gaining prominence as influential figures in the city's underworld, proprietors of taverns, merchants, and even respected city guards.
Elves and dwarves typically pursue roles as blacksmiths, artificers, scholars, and artisans. The dwarven population is especially notable due to Praȳa hosting the largest dwarven trade market outside Khazad-nu-Dûrinbar, attracting dwarven merchants and craftsmen eager to capitalize on economic opportunities. Additionally, the city's pioneering medical advancements within its renowned House of Ills have made Praȳa a beacon for healers, physicians, and scholars seeking cutting-edge knowledge.
Occasionally, the city's prominence as a major trade hub brings merchants, adventurers, and diplomats from distant lands far beyond the Thallands, adding a transient but intriguing exotic element to Praȳa's already vibrant population.
Government
Another wonderous thing in Praȳa is its governmental system. A three-tiered system, the patricians discuss proposals and petitions brought forth by themselves or others, or the decisions of the baron and his privy council, in the senate. The privy council considers the proposals of the senate and act as advisers to the baron, who is also part of the council, and represent the most important guilds and institutions of the city. Finally, the baron is the appointed ruler of Praȳa and can decree new laws and regulations.
In order to grant Ludwig some authority, the Count of Falkenstein was personally present during Ludwig's inauguration, signalling to everybody his favour for young Ludwig. Since then, the Count and Ludwig have been at odds every now and then, disagreeing on policies, but have always found a compromise that satisfied both, the Count and the city of Praȳa.
Now that Ludwig is in his 40s and the Count is nowhere to be found, a war with Abensberg looms on the horizon and the city has been preparing for a siege for several months. Rumours have it, that the granaries of the city are still half-empty and that most of the defensive weaponry has been in disrepair long before Ludwig took over. Even with the stationed garrison, Praȳa would not have enough manpower to break a siege, but might delay a full encirclement of the city, in the hopes that a relief army might arrive.
Some time after the disappearance of the count, rumours had been popping up about how Ludwig has started to discuss plans of becoming a free city like Vorilios. The baron denies these rumours, as he understands the predicament he is in full well. His fealty needs to lie with Falkenstein for now, if only because of Praȳa's dependency on food supplies from the Falkenstein countryside, without which Praȳa's population would quickly succumb to starvation.
But even if that were not the case, Praȳa is under constant threat of being attacked by Abensberg, who have openly claimed the city to be rightfully theirs ever since the formation of the Reich. Praȳa only has its city guard to defend its walls and Ludwig would have to convince Answald Rabenwehr, Proconsul of the Count, to abandon his liege and join Praȳa. Newer rumours say that heated discussions can be heard from the baron's manor for the past few weeks, and people are speculating that it may be between the baron and the proconsul.
Whatever the case, the baron is unlikely to decide the future of Praȳa without consulting his council or the senate, to both of which he often listens attentively. Ludwig has found that an appeased senate makes ruling the city much easier, and usually more profitable. The only times he goes against the senate is when he can be sure of the support of his privy council, especially the proconsul, as he commands the strongest military force in the city.
That does not mean that the baron is a weak ruler or a push-over. If the senate gets too unruly or bold during sessions, Ludwig usually threatens the senate with the city watch and two or three days in the dungeons of the city, which usually shuts them up. After all, he is a man of his words. Although easily placatable, the baron rules with an iron fist when it comes to rebels trying to overthrow the natural order of the feudal system, which especially applies to patricians who have mistaken his leniency for weakness. Those individuals learn pretty quickly that the baron sees the senate as nothing more than a compromise born of, and entertained by, his goodwill.
Without Answald, Praȳa would have probably seceded from Falkenstein several months ago, a fact many among the patrician families detest. For them, he is the sole reason for the situation Praȳa is finding itself in, being wedged between an impotent ruler and a greedy duke who is impatiently waiting for an opportunity to sack the city like a plump goose. The fact that he is a commoner, and not a noble, isn't helping either.
None-the-less, Answald is being held in high regards by the baron, a man who understands loyalty. A fact that is reverberating with the rumours of heated discussions inside the baron's manor. Many believe that the baron is trying to convince Answald to support his claim for an independent city, and they might be right. But without consent by the proconsul, the baron is unlikely to act, as is often the case.
This circumstance hasn't made Answald any friends on the council, either. The other members either envy or detest him for the favour he has with the baron, with the exception of Agilmar Eichenschild, the newest addition to the council.
At the moment, though, the council fears the possibility of martial law. If the situation with Abensberg comes to a head, the proconsul might declare martial law, effectively seizing power over the city and superseding even the baron. Control of the Granary would automatically go to the proconsul and the garrisoned regiments of the citadel might take control of the city watch.
These facts alone give the merchants of Praȳa a lot of power, and their position is further strengthened, as most of them are represented by the patricians' senate, as well. Additionally, Friedrich Hake, guildmaster and spokesperson of the merchants guild, holds a seat on the baron's council. This would make the merchants guild effectively the strongest faction in Praȳa, if not for the military power of the proconsul.
The knowledge about these facts has turned Friedrich Hake into a conceited person, who sees himself above everyone else, and who acts like a snobbish noble, a behaviour which has drawn the ire of the baron many times. Fortunately for him, the baron sees the value that Friedrich Hake brings to his council, which, unbeknownst to him, has saved him from the gallows many times. It hasn't saved him from a visit to the baron's dungeons, though, to bring him in line again.
Most of the time, his goals align with those of the Toolers Guild, and Joseph Zimmermann is known to often vote in accordance to Friedrich Hake, with few exceptions. This has created somewhat of a rift between these two factions and the city watch and proconsul, who regularly oppose the ideas of the workers guilds. His relationships to the other factions are ambivalent. While Agilmar Eichenschild, the newest member of the council, is not opposed to Friedrich, he holds a certain dislike to his greedy and aloof nature, while Nathanael Petereit thinks of him nothing more than a fool, oblivious to the machinations of those truly in power.
Friedrich, in turn, detests Answald, if only for the fact that he is a commoner that is good friends with the baron and the only one on the council able to sway the baron away from him. At the same time, he has to be nice to him, as he is the official representative of the Count.
Rumours have it, that Friedrich is advocating to make Praȳa a free city, in order to turn it into a city state, ruled by the senate, although he openly denies these allegations, swearing allegiance to the baron and the Count every chance he gets.
Joseph is a rather simple man, wanting nothing more than a good life and fair treatment for himself and his fellow toolers. He is a pacifist and tries to avoid conflict, but at the same time isn't shy to fight for the rights and privileges of his guild. He is beloved by almost everyone on the council, and usually holds no grudge against the council, nor the senate or the baron. The recent struggles with both the city watch and the proconsul has strained their relationships, though, and Joseph has taken a more reserved stance towards both.
Due to the fact that he almost always agrees with Friedrich Hake, he is often seen as gullible and easily manipulated, but he argues that most of the merchants' demands align with those of the toolers guild. None-the-less, he does envy Answald for the influence he has and the fact that almost everyone takes him seriously, while he himself is often seen as a pawn for the other council members. Although he would never admit it openly, his behaviour betrays him. Most on the council have the decency, though, to never mention it and embarrass him.
Agilmar could have delegated this responsibility to the previous Church representative, but several factors influenced his decision to take on the role himself. First and foremost, Agilmar disdains shirking his responsibilities, but he also pursues his own agenda, a fact that has not endeared him to many within Praȳa's ecclesiastical community. Nevertheless, Agilmar is largely indifferent to the approval of his peers; his primary concern has always been the prosperity and well-being of the Realms and their people.
His rank as Archbishop was awarded in recognition of numerous contributions to the welfare of the Realms, making him the only Archbishop who does not currently reside in Pfalzwangen. Rumors persist that he initially traveled to Friedrichshain on a secret Church mission, which was thwarted by recent events that prevented him from gaining an audience with the Count, thus forcing him to return empty-handed. Others speculate that the Church sent him to lead a military campaign against the undead threats north of the Laue, but that the endeavor failed. His recent petitions advocating for a military expedition strongly support this latter theory in the eyes of many.
Regardless of these speculations, Agilmar has rapidly asserted control over Praȳa’s church and is actively reforming its structure to better prepare the city for an impending siege. While the city's immediate safety remains his top priority, Agilmar is equally committed to mobilizing a relief army to confront the undead menace in the north as soon as circumstances allow.
Having arrived merely two months ago, Agilmar has yet to establish deep connections within the council. However, he has begun developing a friendship with Joseph Zimmermann, whose calm demeanor he appreciates. He also regularly consults with the Baron and Proconsul Answald Rabenwehr regarding strategies to handle the undead crisis in northern Falkenstein. This growing influence has drawn the ire of Friedrich Hake and Chancellor Nathanael Petereit, both of whom envy the prominence Agilmar has enjoyed.
Until a group of thieves proved everyone wrong. They were swiftly found and punished, but the shame of the incident was the beginning of the downfall of the Finckenstein dynasty. Shortly after, Primwald rose to power and seized the city for almost a hundred years.
None-the-less, Leopold made a name for himself and his family and each generation after, the Haselsberger have worked as some sort of security. The same could be said about Hagen, except in his case, he has to ensure the security of all of Praȳa, as commander of the city watch.
While his name is now helping him with his job, Hagen had to prove his worth again and again, in order to become commander. People expected much of him, and he delivered most of it. He had therefore, in the eyes of many, earned the right to lead the city watch, the first line of Praȳan defense.
While Hagen enjoys his position and being on the baron's council, he admires and envies proconsul Answald for his power. While both are usually allies on the baron's council, the past few weeks have seen them drifting apart. This could well be because of the looming siege and the prospect of the proconsul seizing the city watch.
According to Nathanael’s own recollections, he had gotten involved with a group around Ferdinand von der Lübbe, who dabbled in wild magic at a time — around two centuries ago — when the Reich still persecuted mages. Their work was carried out behind closed doors, hidden even from the broader university faculty.
During this period of secrecy, Nathanael discovered a method to artificially prolong his life, and established himself as a skilled lawyer in Praȳa. His fortunes changed dramatically with the return of Ferdinand, who, together with other former Praȳans, overthrew the tyrant Primwald and championed the founding of a formal wizards academy.
In the wake of Primwald’s fall, Nathanael supported Ferdinand's efforts, and together they introduced the faculties of Illusion and Enchantment, gradually reshaping Universitätsstadt until wizards effectively steered its course. Although lawyers and philosophers still train there in numbers equal to the arcane students, the academy’s entrance standards have grown exceptionally high.
Eventually, the partnership between Nathanael and Ferdinand soured. Ferdinand departed the very academy he helped build, while Nathanael rose to become Chancellor. Today, he stands amongst the most influential figures in Praȳa, a status he makes little effort to hide. Those who know him well attribute part of his aloofness and arrogance to the lingering bitterness over losing his oldest friend.
Nathanael also resents what he perceives as inadequate regard for the academy’s importance. He believes he deserves far greater prominence on Praȳa’s council, especially compared to Agilmar Eichenschild, whose swift rise to influence rankles him. His disdain for Answald Rabenwehr is even sharper: rumor has it the two share a personal vendetta — an enmity that traces back through several generations of Rabenwehr’s family. Details remain elusive, but Nathanael’s seething dislike is plain to see.
A founding pillar of the academy’s magical faculty, Nathanael is considered a master wizard in both Illusion and Enchantment — apt disciplines for a man whose influence and rivalry shape many of Praȳa’s political currents.
It was initially formed as a compromise, to appease the rebellious patrician families, who sought their own freedom, instead of being ruled by a nescient outsider. The time of troubles for Praȳa destabilized the city enough to allow criminals to run rampant in the streets and even though Ludwig von Südlau would have had any right to incarcerate the rebelling patricians, it would have solved little and lost him an influential power block.
Instead, he bound them to a regulated process, without binding himself to any agreements. The families gladly took the opportunity to shape the future of the city and have helped the baron ever since in bringing order back to the city.
The baron and his council hold court during the senate's sessions, in order to discuss anything on the day's agenda. The final decisions are still made in private most of the time, with only the baron and the council, but the senate always has a chance to voice their opinions and alternative solutions.
Ludwig von Südlau - The Baron
Ludwig von Südlau is a born and bred native Falkenstein lord. He inherited the city from his father when he was 28 years old. At the time, he was appointed as the bailiff of Südlau and the death of his father came as a surprise to him. Unprepared to rule a city as big as Praȳa, it was a time of turmoil and several criminal organizations seized the chance to gain a foothold in the city. Since then, Ludwig's goal has been mostly to eradicate the influence of these organizations and bringing order to a city that, for better or worse, has been in constant chaos since its inception.In order to grant Ludwig some authority, the Count of Falkenstein was personally present during Ludwig's inauguration, signalling to everybody his favour for young Ludwig. Since then, the Count and Ludwig have been at odds every now and then, disagreeing on policies, but have always found a compromise that satisfied both, the Count and the city of Praȳa.
Now that Ludwig is in his 40s and the Count is nowhere to be found, a war with Abensberg looms on the horizon and the city has been preparing for a siege for several months. Rumours have it, that the granaries of the city are still half-empty and that most of the defensive weaponry has been in disrepair long before Ludwig took over. Even with the stationed garrison, Praȳa would not have enough manpower to break a siege, but might delay a full encirclement of the city, in the hopes that a relief army might arrive.
Some time after the disappearance of the count, rumours had been popping up about how Ludwig has started to discuss plans of becoming a free city like Vorilios. The baron denies these rumours, as he understands the predicament he is in full well. His fealty needs to lie with Falkenstein for now, if only because of Praȳa's dependency on food supplies from the Falkenstein countryside, without which Praȳa's population would quickly succumb to starvation.
But even if that were not the case, Praȳa is under constant threat of being attacked by Abensberg, who have openly claimed the city to be rightfully theirs ever since the formation of the Reich. Praȳa only has its city guard to defend its walls and Ludwig would have to convince Answald Rabenwehr, Proconsul of the Count, to abandon his liege and join Praȳa. Newer rumours say that heated discussions can be heard from the baron's manor for the past few weeks, and people are speculating that it may be between the baron and the proconsul.
Whatever the case, the baron is unlikely to decide the future of Praȳa without consulting his council or the senate, to both of which he often listens attentively. Ludwig has found that an appeased senate makes ruling the city much easier, and usually more profitable. The only times he goes against the senate is when he can be sure of the support of his privy council, especially the proconsul, as he commands the strongest military force in the city.
That does not mean that the baron is a weak ruler or a push-over. If the senate gets too unruly or bold during sessions, Ludwig usually threatens the senate with the city watch and two or three days in the dungeons of the city, which usually shuts them up. After all, he is a man of his words. Although easily placatable, the baron rules with an iron fist when it comes to rebels trying to overthrow the natural order of the feudal system, which especially applies to patricians who have mistaken his leniency for weakness. Those individuals learn pretty quickly that the baron sees the senate as nothing more than a compromise born of, and entertained by, his goodwill.
The baron's council
The baron's council is a group of representatives of the most important factions in Praȳa, advising the baron in all matters. While none of them have any real political power, except for the proconsul to a limited degree, their opinions are deeply valued by the baron himself. This often leads to strenuous debates during council meetings, as a well-worded, and even better defended, opinion is likely to sway the baron's opinion in turn.Answald Rabenwehr - Proconsul
Elevated to his position by the Count himself, Answald Rabenwehr is loyal to a fault. This is a good characteristic in a proconsul, and something the count probably knew would be the case, but more important, it keeps Praȳa in line, due to the garrisoned regiments inside the citadel.Without Answald, Praȳa would have probably seceded from Falkenstein several months ago, a fact many among the patrician families detest. For them, he is the sole reason for the situation Praȳa is finding itself in, being wedged between an impotent ruler and a greedy duke who is impatiently waiting for an opportunity to sack the city like a plump goose. The fact that he is a commoner, and not a noble, isn't helping either.
None-the-less, Answald is being held in high regards by the baron, a man who understands loyalty. A fact that is reverberating with the rumours of heated discussions inside the baron's manor. Many believe that the baron is trying to convince Answald to support his claim for an independent city, and they might be right. But without consent by the proconsul, the baron is unlikely to act, as is often the case.
This circumstance hasn't made Answald any friends on the council, either. The other members either envy or detest him for the favour he has with the baron, with the exception of Agilmar Eichenschild, the newest addition to the council.
At the moment, though, the council fears the possibility of martial law. If the situation with Abensberg comes to a head, the proconsul might declare martial law, effectively seizing power over the city and superseding even the baron. Control of the Granary would automatically go to the proconsul and the garrisoned regiments of the citadel might take control of the city watch.
Friedrich Hake - Merchants Guild
Praȳa is a city of merchants, even more so than Vorilios. Most patrician families are merchants or have strong ties to some, and it is the merchants that made Praȳa what it is today; the second biggest city of the Realms. They are the lifeline of Praȳa, making sure that there is never a shortage of goods and supplies.These facts alone give the merchants of Praȳa a lot of power, and their position is further strengthened, as most of them are represented by the patricians' senate, as well. Additionally, Friedrich Hake, guildmaster and spokesperson of the merchants guild, holds a seat on the baron's council. This would make the merchants guild effectively the strongest faction in Praȳa, if not for the military power of the proconsul.
The knowledge about these facts has turned Friedrich Hake into a conceited person, who sees himself above everyone else, and who acts like a snobbish noble, a behaviour which has drawn the ire of the baron many times. Fortunately for him, the baron sees the value that Friedrich Hake brings to his council, which, unbeknownst to him, has saved him from the gallows many times. It hasn't saved him from a visit to the baron's dungeons, though, to bring him in line again.
Most of the time, his goals align with those of the Toolers Guild, and Joseph Zimmermann is known to often vote in accordance to Friedrich Hake, with few exceptions. This has created somewhat of a rift between these two factions and the city watch and proconsul, who regularly oppose the ideas of the workers guilds. His relationships to the other factions are ambivalent. While Agilmar Eichenschild, the newest member of the council, is not opposed to Friedrich, he holds a certain dislike to his greedy and aloof nature, while Nathanael Petereit thinks of him nothing more than a fool, oblivious to the machinations of those truly in power.
Friedrich, in turn, detests Answald, if only for the fact that he is a commoner that is good friends with the baron and the only one on the council able to sway the baron away from him. At the same time, he has to be nice to him, as he is the official representative of the Count.
Rumours have it, that Friedrich is advocating to make Praȳa a free city, in order to turn it into a city state, ruled by the senate, although he openly denies these allegations, swearing allegiance to the baron and the Count every chance he gets.
Joseph Zimmermann - Toolers Guild
If it weren't for Agilmar Eichenschild, Joseph Zimmermann would probably be the nicest person on the council. A fact that has both endeared towards each other.Joseph is a rather simple man, wanting nothing more than a good life and fair treatment for himself and his fellow toolers. He is a pacifist and tries to avoid conflict, but at the same time isn't shy to fight for the rights and privileges of his guild. He is beloved by almost everyone on the council, and usually holds no grudge against the council, nor the senate or the baron. The recent struggles with both the city watch and the proconsul has strained their relationships, though, and Joseph has taken a more reserved stance towards both.
Due to the fact that he almost always agrees with Friedrich Hake, he is often seen as gullible and easily manipulated, but he argues that most of the merchants' demands align with those of the toolers guild. None-the-less, he does envy Answald for the influence he has and the fact that almost everyone takes him seriously, while he himself is often seen as a pawn for the other council members. Although he would never admit it openly, his behaviour betrays him. Most on the council have the decency, though, to never mention it and embarrass him.
Agilmar Eichenschild - Church of Cassander
The newest member of the Baron's council, Agilmar Eichenschild, arrived in Praȳa alongside the survivors and heroes of Friedrichshain. His appointment to the council was due primarily to his position as the highest-ranking member of the Church in Praȳa, thus making him the only one authorized to officially represent the Church's interests.Agilmar could have delegated this responsibility to the previous Church representative, but several factors influenced his decision to take on the role himself. First and foremost, Agilmar disdains shirking his responsibilities, but he also pursues his own agenda, a fact that has not endeared him to many within Praȳa's ecclesiastical community. Nevertheless, Agilmar is largely indifferent to the approval of his peers; his primary concern has always been the prosperity and well-being of the Realms and their people.
His rank as Archbishop was awarded in recognition of numerous contributions to the welfare of the Realms, making him the only Archbishop who does not currently reside in Pfalzwangen. Rumors persist that he initially traveled to Friedrichshain on a secret Church mission, which was thwarted by recent events that prevented him from gaining an audience with the Count, thus forcing him to return empty-handed. Others speculate that the Church sent him to lead a military campaign against the undead threats north of the Laue, but that the endeavor failed. His recent petitions advocating for a military expedition strongly support this latter theory in the eyes of many.
Regardless of these speculations, Agilmar has rapidly asserted control over Praȳa’s church and is actively reforming its structure to better prepare the city for an impending siege. While the city's immediate safety remains his top priority, Agilmar is equally committed to mobilizing a relief army to confront the undead menace in the north as soon as circumstances allow.
Having arrived merely two months ago, Agilmar has yet to establish deep connections within the council. However, he has begun developing a friendship with Joseph Zimmermann, whose calm demeanor he appreciates. He also regularly consults with the Baron and Proconsul Answald Rabenwehr regarding strategies to handle the undead crisis in northern Falkenstein. This growing influence has drawn the ire of Friedrich Hake and Chancellor Nathanael Petereit, both of whom envy the prominence Agilmar has enjoyed.
Hagen Haselsberger - City Watch
The Haselsberger family is so renowned in Praȳa, that people might think them nobles or even a powerful merchants family. While they are lesser nobility, their renown stems from Leopold Haselsberger, marshal of the guard of the Finckenstein manor. It was his doing that the manor had such excellent security, that people were saying it was more secure than even the dwarven vaults of Kadzul, the dwarven banks deep in the bowels of Khazad-nu-Dûrinbar's.Until a group of thieves proved everyone wrong. They were swiftly found and punished, but the shame of the incident was the beginning of the downfall of the Finckenstein dynasty. Shortly after, Primwald rose to power and seized the city for almost a hundred years.
None-the-less, Leopold made a name for himself and his family and each generation after, the Haselsberger have worked as some sort of security. The same could be said about Hagen, except in his case, he has to ensure the security of all of Praȳa, as commander of the city watch.
While his name is now helping him with his job, Hagen had to prove his worth again and again, in order to become commander. People expected much of him, and he delivered most of it. He had therefore, in the eyes of many, earned the right to lead the city watch, the first line of Praȳan defense.
While Hagen enjoys his position and being on the baron's council, he admires and envies proconsul Answald for his power. While both are usually allies on the baron's council, the past few weeks have seen them drifting apart. This could well be because of the looming siege and the prospect of the proconsul seizing the city watch.
Nathanael Petereit von Felsberg - Universitätsstadt
Nathanael Petereit hails from a prestigious though lower-ranking Thalländer noble family. Born the fifth child of Ansgard Petereit von Felsberg, a Rabener noble, and Marie Raben, a commoner, Nathanael had no real hope of inheritance. Consequently, he was sent to study law in Praȳa when Universitätsstadt functioned more like a traditional university.According to Nathanael’s own recollections, he had gotten involved with a group around Ferdinand von der Lübbe, who dabbled in wild magic at a time — around two centuries ago — when the Reich still persecuted mages. Their work was carried out behind closed doors, hidden even from the broader university faculty.
During this period of secrecy, Nathanael discovered a method to artificially prolong his life, and established himself as a skilled lawyer in Praȳa. His fortunes changed dramatically with the return of Ferdinand, who, together with other former Praȳans, overthrew the tyrant Primwald and championed the founding of a formal wizards academy.
In the wake of Primwald’s fall, Nathanael supported Ferdinand's efforts, and together they introduced the faculties of Illusion and Enchantment, gradually reshaping Universitätsstadt until wizards effectively steered its course. Although lawyers and philosophers still train there in numbers equal to the arcane students, the academy’s entrance standards have grown exceptionally high.
Eventually, the partnership between Nathanael and Ferdinand soured. Ferdinand departed the very academy he helped build, while Nathanael rose to become Chancellor. Today, he stands amongst the most influential figures in Praȳa, a status he makes little effort to hide. Those who know him well attribute part of his aloofness and arrogance to the lingering bitterness over losing his oldest friend.
Nathanael also resents what he perceives as inadequate regard for the academy’s importance. He believes he deserves far greater prominence on Praȳa’s council, especially compared to Agilmar Eichenschild, whose swift rise to influence rankles him. His disdain for Answald Rabenwehr is even sharper: rumor has it the two share a personal vendetta — an enmity that traces back through several generations of Rabenwehr’s family. Details remain elusive, but Nathanael’s seething dislike is plain to see.
A founding pillar of the academy’s magical faculty, Nathanael is considered a master wizard in both Illusion and Enchantment — apt disciplines for a man whose influence and rivalry shape many of Praȳa’s political currents.
The Senate
The senate is the lowest entity in the unique political structure of Praȳa. It consists exclusively of members of the patrician families, which bring forth and discuss proposals and political decisions.It was initially formed as a compromise, to appease the rebellious patrician families, who sought their own freedom, instead of being ruled by a nescient outsider. The time of troubles for Praȳa destabilized the city enough to allow criminals to run rampant in the streets and even though Ludwig von Südlau would have had any right to incarcerate the rebelling patricians, it would have solved little and lost him an influential power block.
Instead, he bound them to a regulated process, without binding himself to any agreements. The families gladly took the opportunity to shape the future of the city and have helped the baron ever since in bringing order back to the city.
The baron and his council hold court during the senate's sessions, in order to discuss anything on the day's agenda. The final decisions are still made in private most of the time, with only the baron and the council, but the senate always has a chance to voice their opinions and alternative solutions.
Infrastructure
There are many things in Praȳa that are worth taking a look at, but none as important or unique as the ones mentioned below.
While not as busy as Synalakterion, the traffic in Praȳa's tri-dock area is still busy enough that anything bigger than a caravel is usually towed in and out of the docks. The treacherous currents of Praȳa's bifurcation are another reason. While ferry boats frequent the docks at all times, adding to the chaos on the Bherûn, there are actually three bridges spanning the rivers.
These bridges are another Praȳan oddity, as they have been built high enough to even let a carrack pass, and each of the bridges holds at least fifty houses on each side, making them somewhat of their own districts, with odd, but harmless, traditions.
While most shipping companies - called Reedereien - are patrician owned, most docks aren't and belong to the city. Any leases and tariffs paid for importing goods or using the docks is paid directly to the city, which is always investing in improving its most important districts. None-the-less, the more prestigious a Reederei is, the higher their ships' priority, and often enough, patrician family feuds have been started over who got toed into the harbour first.
According to local legends, the founders of Praȳa created the bifurcation. Initially, they wanted to redirect the river, but Primyat, the duchy downriver of the Osbehrûn, marched against the fledgling village, annexing it. They tried to reverse the redirection, creating the bifurcation which has been kept alive by the people of Praȳa ever since. Rumours say, that Universitätsstadt upholds the bifurcation magically these days. Other rumours say that either the patricians or the city itself hire goblins to traverse the riverbed in underwater boats created by the gnomish community of Praȳa, in order to keep the bifurcation alive.
Recently, though, the rumours have shifted, as for the past few months, the "Falke", the royal flagship of Falkenstein, has been anchored in the tri-docks.
Usually, the ship only docks for one or two weeks, refilling its provisions, before it makes its way down the Wesbehrûn, into the Lauenberger See and down the Laue into the ocean. But since the disappearance of the Count, the ship has been lying in dock the whole time. Some people started the rumours that the ship was haunted, while others say that it is cursed and the crew cannot leave the ship until the curse is broken, or they die a gruesome death.
Whatever the case, the people or Praȳa have come to avoid the "Falke" and the quay it's docked at, even going so far as to wait for a day or two, just to not get docked at the same quay.
Since only elves are granted the use of restorative magic, healers are scarce and sought-after. Most are hired by rulers, to reside at their court. This makes their services expensive and the common folk could never hope to afford one. The house of ills is an initiative by the apothecaries guild, spearheaded by one of the Friedrichshain surivors, Ulrik Eibenwald, in order to improve the overall health situation in Praȳa, hoping to get official funding for their research and experiments.
The house itself is situated in Vorbeck, and works closely with the tinsmiths and artificers in Osper. Ulrik himself seems to be fascinated by the technological progress and machineries that are rumoured to exist in Katerga and has been trying to find a way to deal with Talos himself, in order to advance his hospital's science.
It is said that the Nethermask, a mighty artifact from times immemorial, resided here for the longest time, hidden away in the manor's vaults. Thought to be impenetrable, the manor was said to have higher security measures than even the vaults of Kadzul, until a group of Praȳan citizens succeeded in breaking into the vaults, to steal its most prized posession, the Nethermask. And even though the culprits were apprehended shortly after, the Nethermask was gone. The group swore that someone else had already stolen the Nethermask when they arrived, a man named Priest, who must have taken the artifact while they were braving the dungeons beneath the manor.
After that, the reputation of the manor lay in ruins and the influence of its owner declined rapidly. As if cursed by fate itself, Finckenstein manor suffered one setback after the other, until finally it was bought up by Primwald himself, who made sure the manor would never be demolished. He still let it fall into disrepair, though. In his own words, as "a warning to those who think about crossing me. Think twice."
It has become a destination for many pilgrims, who seek an audience with the bishop or the chance to pray to the remains of one of the aspects. During the Saints Days, there is a queue of pilgrims that reaches far into Vorbeck, even during the night, despite many of the pilgrims being accommodated on the premises of the cathedral itself. The walls, made out of white sandstone, reach high into the sky, due to its many flying buttresses. The massive, double-winged doors, open into the vestibule. From there, several doors lead to either tower of the cathedral, as well as the nave with its 20 meter high ceiling. Intricate cross arches form peculiar patterns, while they stretch at least a hundred meters along. About two thirds into the nave, the transept extends left and right, and mosaic windows, depicting scenes from the life of Cassander, are set into the walls along the full length of the nave and the transept, illuminating the white, marbled floor, as well as the oaken pews. At the end of the nave is the bema, padded with red carpet. At its center, the walls open up into an apsis in which, upon a dais, the altar rests. The walls of the apsis hold a triptych of enormous glass windows, depicting the defeat of Alexander, last Asthasean emperor, by his sons, Nicator, Cassander, and Lysimachos.
The wings of the transept are filled with little shrines, as well as religious artifacts, and writings. At the end of each of the wings stands a confessional. To the left and right of the bema are doors leading further into the cathedral. This is where the private chambers of the clergy are situated, and also the entrance to the crypts, in which the remains of Cassanders himself are laid to rest.
The exterior is a massive track of land, with a monastery, several gardens, and guesthouses for the pilgrims. The land itself is separated from Vorbeck with an iron fence, and patrolled regularly by the church's own guardians.
There exist smaller churches, of saints who serve Cassander, strewn all over the city. Most prominent among them are St. Mary's, St. Arund's, St. Helen's, and the quay-side church, dedicated to those lost at sea.
While not as bad as the Vorilian administrational system, Praȳa's city hall is probably only second to them. It is notoriously hard to get a building permit, and most people have resorted to building their houses slight outside of Praȳa proper, hoping that it will be integrated into the city, sooner or later.
Trading permits are managed by the patricians themselves, and they make sure that any patrician's trading permit is handled as fast as possible. Newer merchants, trying to get a hold in Praȳa, though, might have a harder time.
It is nominally under the control of the Proconsul, but has never been used as a bargaining chip. According to Answald, that "would be beneath him, and besides, I like the baron. Why would I want to blackmail a friend?"
The granary is not the only building holding rations for the city, tough, even if the name might imply that. There are several granaries placed all over the city, so that in times of hardship, the people do not flock to just one place. According to the baron, it is easier to manage several smaller crowds, than one big. According to Praȳan citizens, it is to weaken the influence of the proconsul.
The Tri-Docks / The Bifurcation
The Tri-Docks are the heart of Praȳa, figuratively and virtually, sitting in the middle of Praȳa and being the lifeline with all its quays and docks to receive goods from all over the Realms.While not as busy as Synalakterion, the traffic in Praȳa's tri-dock area is still busy enough that anything bigger than a caravel is usually towed in and out of the docks. The treacherous currents of Praȳa's bifurcation are another reason. While ferry boats frequent the docks at all times, adding to the chaos on the Bherûn, there are actually three bridges spanning the rivers.
These bridges are another Praȳan oddity, as they have been built high enough to even let a carrack pass, and each of the bridges holds at least fifty houses on each side, making them somewhat of their own districts, with odd, but harmless, traditions.
While most shipping companies - called Reedereien - are patrician owned, most docks aren't and belong to the city. Any leases and tariffs paid for importing goods or using the docks is paid directly to the city, which is always investing in improving its most important districts. None-the-less, the more prestigious a Reederei is, the higher their ships' priority, and often enough, patrician family feuds have been started over who got toed into the harbour first.
According to local legends, the founders of Praȳa created the bifurcation. Initially, they wanted to redirect the river, but Primyat, the duchy downriver of the Osbehrûn, marched against the fledgling village, annexing it. They tried to reverse the redirection, creating the bifurcation which has been kept alive by the people of Praȳa ever since. Rumours say, that Universitätsstadt upholds the bifurcation magically these days. Other rumours say that either the patricians or the city itself hire goblins to traverse the riverbed in underwater boats created by the gnomish community of Praȳa, in order to keep the bifurcation alive.
Recently, though, the rumours have shifted, as for the past few months, the "Falke", the royal flagship of Falkenstein, has been anchored in the tri-docks.
The "Falke"
The royal flagship of Falkenstein, the "Falke", is a majestic beast. The hull of a carrack, elongated to make room for entertainment, with two gun decks and two captain's cabins directly above each other. The upper is always reserved for the Count, while the lower is for the captain. The ship is dressed in the colours and emblem of Falkenstein, a blue falcon over white clouds, with a rosewood finish.Usually, the ship only docks for one or two weeks, refilling its provisions, before it makes its way down the Wesbehrûn, into the Lauenberger See and down the Laue into the ocean. But since the disappearance of the Count, the ship has been lying in dock the whole time. Some people started the rumours that the ship was haunted, while others say that it is cursed and the crew cannot leave the ship until the curse is broken, or they die a gruesome death.
Whatever the case, the people or Praȳa have come to avoid the "Falke" and the quay it's docked at, even going so far as to wait for a day or two, just to not get docked at the same quay.
The House of Ills
The house of ills is the first hospital in the Realms, with the most state-of-the-art tools and remedies to heal people of their afflictions without having to resort to magic.Since only elves are granted the use of restorative magic, healers are scarce and sought-after. Most are hired by rulers, to reside at their court. This makes their services expensive and the common folk could never hope to afford one. The house of ills is an initiative by the apothecaries guild, spearheaded by one of the Friedrichshain surivors, Ulrik Eibenwald, in order to improve the overall health situation in Praȳa, hoping to get official funding for their research and experiments.
The house itself is situated in Vorbeck, and works closely with the tinsmiths and artificers in Osper. Ulrik himself seems to be fascinated by the technological progress and machineries that are rumoured to exist in Katerga and has been trying to find a way to deal with Talos himself, in order to advance his hospital's science.
The Ruins of Finckenstein Manor
For the citizens of Praȳa, the ruins of Finckenstein manor are a cautionary tale. They tell the sad story of the downfall of the most influential royal house in Praȳa.It is said that the Nethermask, a mighty artifact from times immemorial, resided here for the longest time, hidden away in the manor's vaults. Thought to be impenetrable, the manor was said to have higher security measures than even the vaults of Kadzul, until a group of Praȳan citizens succeeded in breaking into the vaults, to steal its most prized posession, the Nethermask. And even though the culprits were apprehended shortly after, the Nethermask was gone. The group swore that someone else had already stolen the Nethermask when they arrived, a man named Priest, who must have taken the artifact while they were braving the dungeons beneath the manor.
After that, the reputation of the manor lay in ruins and the influence of its owner declined rapidly. As if cursed by fate itself, Finckenstein manor suffered one setback after the other, until finally it was bought up by Primwald himself, who made sure the manor would never be demolished. He still let it fall into disrepair, though. In his own words, as "a warning to those who think about crossing me. Think twice."
Cassander's Cathedral
Of all the aspects, Cassander, aspect of order, courage, and hope, is the one most worshipped in Praȳa, and his cathedral is an example of architecture that rivals the majesty of many Asthasean buildings in Vorilios. All those who arrive are awed by the monument, an aspect that it shares with its twin cathedral in Friedrichshain.It has become a destination for many pilgrims, who seek an audience with the bishop or the chance to pray to the remains of one of the aspects. During the Saints Days, there is a queue of pilgrims that reaches far into Vorbeck, even during the night, despite many of the pilgrims being accommodated on the premises of the cathedral itself. The walls, made out of white sandstone, reach high into the sky, due to its many flying buttresses. The massive, double-winged doors, open into the vestibule. From there, several doors lead to either tower of the cathedral, as well as the nave with its 20 meter high ceiling. Intricate cross arches form peculiar patterns, while they stretch at least a hundred meters along. About two thirds into the nave, the transept extends left and right, and mosaic windows, depicting scenes from the life of Cassander, are set into the walls along the full length of the nave and the transept, illuminating the white, marbled floor, as well as the oaken pews. At the end of the nave is the bema, padded with red carpet. At its center, the walls open up into an apsis in which, upon a dais, the altar rests. The walls of the apsis hold a triptych of enormous glass windows, depicting the defeat of Alexander, last Asthasean emperor, by his sons, Nicator, Cassander, and Lysimachos.
The wings of the transept are filled with little shrines, as well as religious artifacts, and writings. At the end of each of the wings stands a confessional. To the left and right of the bema are doors leading further into the cathedral. This is where the private chambers of the clergy are situated, and also the entrance to the crypts, in which the remains of Cassanders himself are laid to rest.
The exterior is a massive track of land, with a monastery, several gardens, and guesthouses for the pilgrims. The land itself is separated from Vorbeck with an iron fence, and patrolled regularly by the church's own guardians.
There exist smaller churches, of saints who serve Cassander, strewn all over the city. Most prominent among them are St. Mary's, St. Arund's, St. Helen's, and the quay-side church, dedicated to those lost at sea.
City Hall
The seat of power of the Patricians, city hall is also where the senate resides. Here it is where the baron holds court, and if you want anything to be officially sanctioned, you will have to bear your teeth and get yourself through the grinder that is the Falkenstein bureaucracy.While not as bad as the Vorilian administrational system, Praȳa's city hall is probably only second to them. It is notoriously hard to get a building permit, and most people have resorted to building their houses slight outside of Praȳa proper, hoping that it will be integrated into the city, sooner or later.
Trading permits are managed by the patricians themselves, and they make sure that any patrician's trading permit is handled as fast as possible. Newer merchants, trying to get a hold in Praȳa, though, might have a harder time.
The Granary
The granary is the center of Praȳa's Altstadt district. It is surrounded by market stalls and can be easily seen from the northern docks.It is nominally under the control of the Proconsul, but has never been used as a bargaining chip. According to Answald, that "would be beneath him, and besides, I like the baron. Why would I want to blackmail a friend?"
The granary is not the only building holding rations for the city, tough, even if the name might imply that. There are several granaries placed all over the city, so that in times of hardship, the people do not flock to just one place. According to the baron, it is easier to manage several smaller crowds, than one big. According to Praȳan citizens, it is to weaken the influence of the proconsul.
Districts
Praȳa is subdivided into ten boroughs, each of which is subdivided into smaller districts, just as Vorilios. The following is a short summary of each of the boroughs.
It’s also the site of the Trade Quarters Market, which straddles the border between The Banks and the Trade Quarters proper. Merchants, artisans, and buyers flock here for the chance to secure imported wares before they reach Oldtown's Trade Market, where they fetch a higher price in polished stalls. If something rare or foreign arrives in Praȳa, this is likely its first stop—a place where ambition and influence are measured in crates and coin.
Much of the dockside activity is dedicated to maintaining the royal river fleet, tasked with protecting trade along the Behrûn and its two main branches. Yet, despite the constant demand, there is almost always a work dock available — for a price.
The Quarters also known for its dense sprawl of warehouses, many belonging to non-patrician merchants who cannot afford the security of The Banks. Carts, cranes, and shouting foremen fill the narrow lanes, and the air smells of pitch, salt, and riverwind.
Since the Time of Troubles, the western embankment has been known as a haven for smugglers, racketeers, and the Sons of Vesper, who act as the de facto watch in many parts. The city guard maintains a tenuous grasp at best, and any merchant who owns a warehouse here knows to factor in "losses" as part of the business model.
Still, not everything here is rot and ruin. There is a certain grim efficiency to the way the black market thrives, and for those in need of unquestioning muscle or discrete arrangements, the western embankment offers what others cannot or will not.
Even its small trader’s market, though best avoided by the cautious, can yield treasures—for those who know how to look, and how not to ask.
A young borough by the city’s reckoning, Vesper came into being at the close of Praȳa’s Time of Troubles, torn from its parent district in the wake of a bitter feud between the Sons' conservative and radical factions. Though much of Praȳa has since found uneasy peace, with the grip of the Cartel largely broken, Vesper remains untamed — its gates watched, its borders sealed, and its soul ruled by blade and oath rather than law and crown.
Baron Ludwig von Südlau, sovereign of the city, has made repeated forays to quash the Sons’ influence. His efforts have bound their reach to the borough alone, yet within that cordon, the Sons rule as lords in all but name. To safeguard the realm, the city watch raised the Westbank Barricade — a wall of stone and steel that sunders Vesper from the gentler quarters of Westbank and the merchant quays of the Docks. No soul enters or leaves save through closely watched gates, where scrutiny is sharp and passage dear.
But chaos does not reign behind those walls. The Sons maintain their own harsh order. Their enforcers stride openly through crooked lanes, and none dare defy them. They levy tribute, exact protection, and control the greatest web of racketeering this side of the Behrûn. It is said they slip like shadows into the warehouses of the Docks, plundering goods with impunity.
Yet Vesper is more than a den of villainy. It is a refuge for the cast-off and condemned — paupers, goblins, charlatans, sellswords, hedge-alchemists, and those who would flee the noose. Whispers speak, too, of wayward mages delving into magicks forbidden by Church and Academy alike. For some, Vesper is a cage. For others, a last sanctuary.
Now, rumor clings to the alleys like mist. Some claim the Sons muster anew, seeking to breach the barricades and reclaim what was once theirs. Bolder tales speak of treachery — of parley with Abensberg, should war come to Praȳa. Most scoff at the notion; what brigand would yield his dominion to a duke’s leash? Yet doubt lingers, and many within the city now wonder:
Should war come to their gates…will Vesper stand with Praȳa — or strike from behind?
Shunned by the old aristocracy, Westbank became a crucible of cultural revolution and architectural innovation; elegant bars and cafés instead of gloomy taverns, their designs bold, refined, and ever-changing. The Westbank style — graceful and artistic — became so iconic that nobles across the Realms copied it. Even the Count’s summer residence was built in its image.
As tensions between Falkenstein and Abensberg grew, the Count financed a city wall and stationed a garrison nearby to protect the surrounding lands. With its new defenses, Westbank was formally absorbed into Praȳa’s city structure.
Then came the rise of Primwald's and Westbank became the seat of his power. His organization replaced the city watch, and the borough rotted beneath his iron rule. Crime flourished: gambling, prostitution, racketeering, and street violence became part of daily life. Westbank transformed from a beacon of modernity into a den of corruption.
Almost a century later, the people revolted. The Sons of Vesper, a resistance born in the shadows of oppression, had long been working to overthrow Primwald. But it wasn’t until a group of exiled citizens — wrongly convicted and newly returned — moved against Primwald, that the borough was truly liberated. Primwald fell, and with his fall, a power vacuum opened.
The Sons of Vesper tried to fill that void. They wanted to restore peace by replacing Primwald’s mobsters with grassroots patrols supporting the city watch. But the fragile balance didn’t last.
Praȳa’s Time of Troubles fractured the movement. Internal rifts grew between the conservatives, who wished to restore order under the Baron’s rule, and revolutionaries, who were intoxicated by the power they now held. Fueled by the Cartel, this conflict turned bloody. Much of southern Westbank was reduced to ruin, and in the end, the revolutionaries triumphed—establishing the breakaway borough of Vesper.
Those conservatives who survived fled north, aided by the city watch, and helped build the Westbank Barricade, a fortified boundary sealing Vesper off from the rest of the city.
Now, the barricade defines life in Westbank. With most of the city watch garrisoned at its edge, residents rely on hired mercenaries to protect their estates. Every crossing into or out of Vesper is tightly monitored. Yet tensions remain high: former Sons of Vesper, now turned loyalists to Praȳa, are organizing a new push — hoping to reclaim the southern ruins and push the barricade line further down.
One might expect this neighborhood to teem with wizard apprentices scouring the taverns for a decent drink. Yet in truth, Universitätsstadt strictly forbids its apprentices from leaving the premises, and the single gate that leads onto the ridge is guarded at all hours.
In the northernmost section of Vorbeck stands a massive estate housing the Cathedral of Cassander, final resting place of the Aspect of Order, Courage, and Hope. Because the cathedral holds the mortal remains of an Aspect, it has become a revered pilgrimage site for those seeking wisdom or solace.
From this cathedral, the Church administers its other estates in Praȳa. However, the current Church representative, Agilmar Eichenschild, caused a stir when he refused to reside on church grounds. Instead, he holds his audiences at the Screaming Goblin — a well-known inn in eastern Vorbeck — and commutes to the cathedral daily for ecclesiastical duties. Both clergy and townsfolk debate the implications of his choice; high-ranking priests are less than pleased, while Agilmar almost seems to relish their discomfort.
Throughout Vorbeck, bathhouses and barber-shops abound — most run either by the Church or by the Apothecaries’ Guild, two rivals vying to control public sanitation. Recently, a survivor from Friedrichshain named Ulrik Eibenwald established the House of Ills, a hospital dedicated to treating every manner of injury and illness without direct magic. Sponsored by the Apothecaries’ Guild, Ulrik’s project aims to improve everyday life in Praȳa without depending on arcane elites. Though Agilmar regrets that his former apprentice chose the guild over the Church, he has openly offered Ulrik his best wishes.
Another notable landmark is the Dwarven Consulate, hewn directly into the base of Universitätsstadt’s rocky ridge. Formerly settled in the Patrician’s Quarters, the dwarves seized the chance to live somewhere that resonated with their subterranean heritage. The consulate may well be the most remarkable building in all of Praȳa — its towering doors, adorned with finely chiseled dwarven runes and gilded reliefs, stand several meters high, and beyond them lie marble floors in black and white and diamond-studded golden chandeliers that bathe each room in warm light. Every visitor leaves in awe, though shrewder observers claim the grandeur is meant to spark envy among humans. A petty notion, but not an unlikely one.
Currently, Lynheid Billungsdottr, dwarven ambassador to Falkenstein and a skilled runesmith, resides here with her delegation while negotiating the new leases for mining in the Nargûrinbar foothills and the northern mountain range.
Universitätsstadt is devoted almost entirely to Praȳa’s university, anchored by Magierturm, its wizard academy. Over the years, the two names have become nearly interchangeable, though in truth, the academy remains a separate institution that has long dominated the campus since its official founding.
The borough’s isolation is quite deliberate. While entry has always been limited by the single gate, the mages of Magierturm have heightened its seclusion further, magically shaping the ridge into what feels like an impregnable fortress. This lofty vantage allows the faculty to enforce a strict curfew, though it does little to thwart the academy’s clever apprentices, who often find hidden ways in and out.
And whenever another robed student is glimpsed in the taverns or nighttime streets of Praȳa, talk of concealed tunnels and secret passages through the ridge flares up once again — part cautionary tale, part marvel at the ingenuity that thrives within Universitätsstadt’s walls.
Oldtown is the realm of merchant dynasties and patrician ambition, where wealth is not merely counted but displayed. To own a stall on Oldtown’s Trade Market is to be made for life — an unspoken mark of status and success. Though not as vast or exotic as the famed Agoras of Vorilios, the Trade Market holds its own in reputation, offering a staggering array of goods from across the Northern Realms.
The borough is composed mostly of tidy houses, bustling stores, and broad market squares—but it is also home to the headquarters of the city watch. Once a royal estate, the building was gifted by the baron himself, repurposed to serve as the central command post for Praȳa’s keepers of order. The structure, a sturdy two-storey timbered hall with a steep red-tiled roof, houses its own jail — though true prisoners are kept in the city’s dungeon near the Citadel.
It was from this very watchhouse that Baron Ludwig von Südlau began his reconquest of the city during the Time of Troubles. Often sleeping under its roof, the baron worked hand in hand with the captain of the watch to plan his struggle against the grip of the city’s criminal syndicates. His presence there likely saved his life more than once, for his personal estate was set ablaze multiple times during those early, tumultuous years of his reign.
Among Oldtown’s many storied corners stands The Basted Boar, a favorite tavern among off-duty watchmen — boisterous, hearty, and rarely quiet. Not far from it lies Wallenstein’s Menagerie, a curious establishment packed to the beams with baubles, trinkets, and alleged relics of ancient myth. Its proprietor is forever seeking new “artifacts” to hawk or adventurers to fetch them.
Last but never least, the heart of Praȳa’s wealth beats quietly here — its banks. Nestled among the shops and merchant halls, they ensure that the fortunes of the city are held close, both figuratively and quite literally. In this, at least, they share common cause with Trade Market.
This district, once wild pasture beyond the city’s early walls, now hosts Praȳa’s heart of power and privilege. The town hall, where the Senate convenes beneath its vaulted marble dome, sits here alongside the city’s main granary, the merchant’s guildhall, and many foreign consulates. The Baron’s own castle rises from the northern heights — a fortified yet elegant residence flanked by cypress trees and ivy-covered stone. Not far lies the overgrown ruin of Finckenstein Manor, once a symbol of opulence and prestige, now slowly collapsing into disrepair. Its crumbling walls and untamed gardens serve as a quiet warning of how even the grandest names may fade when fortunes and favor turn cold.
The further one strays from the palatial north and moves toward Oldtown, Vorbeck, or Osper, the more the estates give way to refined townhouses. These narrow façades often hold stylish shopfronts on their lower floors — upscale bakeries, perfumeries, barbers, and clothiers where both coin and courtesy are expected in equal measure.
For those seeking culinary delight, there is no finer destination than The Rose Petal. Perched on a terrace that overlooks the lower boroughs, this goblin-run establishment is the pride of the Patricians’ Quarters and, by many accounts, the finest restaurant in the Northern Realms. Riamata, its chef and proprietor, is a descendant of Krog the Defender and as much a legend as her ancestor. Known for her razor-sharp wit and exacting standards, she accepts no arrogance in her dining hall — only decorum and an appreciation for her near-miraculous cuisine.
Beyond such splendors lie private cafés, quaint terraces where the elite sip afternoon cordials, and exclusive bathhouses reserved for patricians and their esteemed guests. These sanctuaries of steam and silence are run by trusted guilds and guarded jealously from public entry.
Though cloistered from the struggles of the city’s poorer districts, the Patricians’ Quarters are never far from political intrigue. The Senate meets within these walls, and its Patrician members wield no small influence over the Baron's policies—pushing ever toward greater autonomy and whispering, when they think none can hear, of becoming a free city. Baron Ludwig von Südlau retains his loyalty to the Count of Falkenstein, yet the presence of the Citadel looming nearby — ever watching, ever armed — serves as a quiet reminder to the patrician families of where true power still rests.
Once built to stop the encroachment of the local elven kingdoms over the Behrûn, and to fortify the blooming village of Praȳa, its alabaster white walls are a monument to the craftsmanship of the Asthaseans. Its tall white walls, though scarcely adorned, show an understanding of architecture that has been lost to the realms, safe for Vorilios, and surround the whole citadel, separating them from the rest of Praȳa. The buildings within are adorned with intricately cut figurines and frescoes, showing various scenes of the Asthasean mythos and their gods. Artfully crafted columns line the pedimented porticos, and domes atop of every house are painted in the most beautiful Vorilian imagery. Those who have been fortunate enough to see the Akropolisses of Vorilios, cannot help but notice the similarities, while at the same time being instantly reminded of the villas of Anaxerion and it is here that the proconsul receives any visitors, except for the baron.
These days, though, the citadel mostly serves as barracks, although cynical citizens liken it to a second townhall, hinting at the influence the proconsul has enjoyed for the past few months.
Here, nearly every kind of artisan and craftsman can be found, their workshops and forges humming continuously. Large bakeries distribute fresh bread and pastries throughout Praȳa from here, ensuring that the borough rarely sleeps. To the north, nestled near the imposing Citadel, fletchers, weaponsmiths, and armoursmiths labor diligently to meet the military's demands, though they gladly accept private commissions as well. Among these artisans is the enigmatic Hyarmaitiel Maicatan, a North Elf whose swordsmithing skill is matched only by her mystique. Her blades, reputed to be among the finest in the Realms, attract clients from near and far.
Vital craftsmen such as cartwrights, wheelwrights, and coopers maintain the logistical heartbeat of the city, their diligent work ensuring the constant flow of goods. Carpenters, turners, and blacksmiths supply essential furniture and tools that keep Praȳa’s complex urban life functioning smoothly.
Amidst the bustling streets, tailors and cobblers ply their trades, yet none approach the renown of Ferrante di Rasinia, the celebrated Half-Elf whose shop "Il Sogno di Seta" (The Silken Dream) is a landmark of Osper. Ferrante, despite his fame and the fortunes he has earned clothing kings, dukes, and counts across the Realms, chooses to remain here, savoring quiet moments over his beloved coffee.
Additionally, whitesmiths and tinsmiths thrive in Osper, with several recently collaborating closely with the House of Ills to craft high-quality medical instruments. A notable figure among them is Grungni Nyrsson, a dwarf tinsmith whose recent sojourn to Vorilios inspired him to create a groundbreaking device capable of injecting liquids—developed specifically for Ulrik Eibenwald's medical practice.
This diverse concentration of artisans naturally led to the establishment of the Toolers' Guild, an influential body dedicated to representing artisan interests within Praȳa. Though not the most politically powerful guild, its significance has secured it a valued seat on the baron's council, ensuring the voice of craftsmanship continues to shape the city's future.
Southwalk consists mainly of farmhouses, with their fields of crop, next to wind mills, barns, silos, and chicken coops, which complement the pastoral feeling of Southwalk. Butchers, farriers, and coopers fit right into this idyll, but even smokehouses, breweries, tanneries, and weavers are a common sight here. Sometimes, pne could lose themself in the illusion of a village.
The further in you go, though, the more city buildings pop up. Here, all dock workers neither rich enough for the northern embankment, nor desperate enough for the western, live here. The squalor doesn't rival that of Vesper, or the Works, but the further towards the shipyards you go, the more the pastoral landscape is replaced with soot-stained brick buildings.
It also here that the Apothecaries' Guild has its headquarters, as well as most of its supporters. The bathhouses, and alchemist and barber shops this side of the river are almost exclusively owned by the apothecaries, and people have come to rely on them for help, instead of the church of Cassander.
Hafenviertel (The Docks)
The city's lifeblood, pulsing through three iron-bound arteries, the Docks are the heart of Praȳa in more ways than one. Sitting directly in the middle of the city, the borough known simply as The Docks stretches across three vast embankments, each rising from the river like stone shoulders. These are no mere piers or timber jetties—the embankments are fortified quays, connected by immense bridges high enough to allow tall-masted ships to pass beneath, and wide enough to host entire rows of houses and shops. The Docks are not simply where ships are loaded and unloaded—they are where Praȳa breathes, where coin flows, where power changes hands quietly and often.The Banks (Northern Embankment)
Known to locals simply as The Banks, the northern embankment is the polished face of Praȳa’s maritime trade. Its docks bustle with importers, exporters, and patrician agents, as finely dressed clerks track shipments with ink-stained fingers and sharp tongues. Here, Vorbeck’s trade quarters stretch out nearby, and many of the Patricians’ private quays and warehouses line the stone edges, secured and guarded as jealously as family vaults.It’s also the site of the Trade Quarters Market, which straddles the border between The Banks and the Trade Quarters proper. Merchants, artisans, and buyers flock here for the chance to secure imported wares before they reach Oldtown's Trade Market, where they fetch a higher price in polished stalls. If something rare or foreign arrives in Praȳa, this is likely its first stop—a place where ambition and influence are measured in crates and coin.
Eastbank (Eastern Embankment)
Where sails are patched, hulls are hammered, and iron sings on stone—the eastern embankment is Praȳa’s beating industrial heart. Known to most as simply as Eastbank, it is dominated by repair docks and shipyards, often echoing with the rhythmic clang of tools and shouted commands. The shipyards here may lack the mechanized efficiency and technology of Neorion, but apart from that, their craftsmanship is second to none—and the work is trusted even by foreign captains.Much of the dockside activity is dedicated to maintaining the royal river fleet, tasked with protecting trade along the Behrûn and its two main branches. Yet, despite the constant demand, there is almost always a work dock available — for a price.
The Quarters also known for its dense sprawl of warehouses, many belonging to non-patrician merchants who cannot afford the security of The Banks. Carts, cranes, and shouting foremen fill the narrow lanes, and the air smells of pitch, salt, and riverwind.
The Western Embankment
Rougher, rowdier, and far less polished than its siblings, the western embankment connects directly to Westbank—and by extension, Vesper. It shares the features of its kin—docks, shipyards, warehouses—but little of their oversight. Locals may call it a trader’s haven, but more often it’s spoken of in cautious tones, or not at all.Since the Time of Troubles, the western embankment has been known as a haven for smugglers, racketeers, and the Sons of Vesper, who act as the de facto watch in many parts. The city guard maintains a tenuous grasp at best, and any merchant who owns a warehouse here knows to factor in "losses" as part of the business model.
Still, not everything here is rot and ruin. There is a certain grim efficiency to the way the black market thrives, and for those in need of unquestioning muscle or discrete arrangements, the western embankment offers what others cannot or will not.
Even its small trader’s market, though best avoided by the cautious, can yield treasures—for those who know how to look, and how not to ask.
Vesper
Vesper, oft called the evening borough, was once part of the southern reaches of Westbank, until the fires of rebellion cleaved it away. Now it lies under the shadowed dominion of the Sons of Vesper — a brotherhood of outlaws born in revolt and steeped in blood.A young borough by the city’s reckoning, Vesper came into being at the close of Praȳa’s Time of Troubles, torn from its parent district in the wake of a bitter feud between the Sons' conservative and radical factions. Though much of Praȳa has since found uneasy peace, with the grip of the Cartel largely broken, Vesper remains untamed — its gates watched, its borders sealed, and its soul ruled by blade and oath rather than law and crown.
Baron Ludwig von Südlau, sovereign of the city, has made repeated forays to quash the Sons’ influence. His efforts have bound their reach to the borough alone, yet within that cordon, the Sons rule as lords in all but name. To safeguard the realm, the city watch raised the Westbank Barricade — a wall of stone and steel that sunders Vesper from the gentler quarters of Westbank and the merchant quays of the Docks. No soul enters or leaves save through closely watched gates, where scrutiny is sharp and passage dear.
But chaos does not reign behind those walls. The Sons maintain their own harsh order. Their enforcers stride openly through crooked lanes, and none dare defy them. They levy tribute, exact protection, and control the greatest web of racketeering this side of the Behrûn. It is said they slip like shadows into the warehouses of the Docks, plundering goods with impunity.
Yet Vesper is more than a den of villainy. It is a refuge for the cast-off and condemned — paupers, goblins, charlatans, sellswords, hedge-alchemists, and those who would flee the noose. Whispers speak, too, of wayward mages delving into magicks forbidden by Church and Academy alike. For some, Vesper is a cage. For others, a last sanctuary.
Now, rumor clings to the alleys like mist. Some claim the Sons muster anew, seeking to breach the barricades and reclaim what was once theirs. Bolder tales speak of treachery — of parley with Abensberg, should war come to Praȳa. Most scoff at the notion; what brigand would yield his dominion to a duke’s leash? Yet doubt lingers, and many within the city now wonder:
Should war come to their gates…will Vesper stand with Praȳa — or strike from behind?
Westbank
Before Praȳa’s Time of Troubles, the western embankment was known for its luxurious estates, green gardens, and pastoral farmsteads. Once a quiet farming village, it became the newest part of the city proper—an attractive haven for the nouveau riche, many of whom sought to escape the rigid expectations of the Patricians and the gloom of Oldtown.Shunned by the old aristocracy, Westbank became a crucible of cultural revolution and architectural innovation; elegant bars and cafés instead of gloomy taverns, their designs bold, refined, and ever-changing. The Westbank style — graceful and artistic — became so iconic that nobles across the Realms copied it. Even the Count’s summer residence was built in its image.
As tensions between Falkenstein and Abensberg grew, the Count financed a city wall and stationed a garrison nearby to protect the surrounding lands. With its new defenses, Westbank was formally absorbed into Praȳa’s city structure.
Then came the rise of Primwald's and Westbank became the seat of his power. His organization replaced the city watch, and the borough rotted beneath his iron rule. Crime flourished: gambling, prostitution, racketeering, and street violence became part of daily life. Westbank transformed from a beacon of modernity into a den of corruption.
Almost a century later, the people revolted. The Sons of Vesper, a resistance born in the shadows of oppression, had long been working to overthrow Primwald. But it wasn’t until a group of exiled citizens — wrongly convicted and newly returned — moved against Primwald, that the borough was truly liberated. Primwald fell, and with his fall, a power vacuum opened.
The Sons of Vesper tried to fill that void. They wanted to restore peace by replacing Primwald’s mobsters with grassroots patrols supporting the city watch. But the fragile balance didn’t last.
Praȳa’s Time of Troubles fractured the movement. Internal rifts grew between the conservatives, who wished to restore order under the Baron’s rule, and revolutionaries, who were intoxicated by the power they now held. Fueled by the Cartel, this conflict turned bloody. Much of southern Westbank was reduced to ruin, and in the end, the revolutionaries triumphed—establishing the breakaway borough of Vesper.
Those conservatives who survived fled north, aided by the city watch, and helped build the Westbank Barricade, a fortified boundary sealing Vesper off from the rest of the city.
Now, the barricade defines life in Westbank. With most of the city watch garrisoned at its edge, residents rely on hired mercenaries to protect their estates. Every crossing into or out of Vesper is tightly monitored. Yet tensions remain high: former Sons of Vesper, now turned loyalists to Praȳa, are organizing a new push — hoping to reclaim the southern ruins and push the barricade line further down.
Vorbeck
Vorbeck occupies the western part of the northern embankment, where a jagged ridge rises to cradle Universitätsstadt. At the foot of this ridge sprawls a market of shopkeepers who cannot afford stalls in Oldtown or the trade quarters and therefore ply their trades in the academy’s shadow. Beyond these bustling stalls, the borough features exotic eateries, artisan workshops, churches devoted to various saints and Aspects, and rows of modest homes.One might expect this neighborhood to teem with wizard apprentices scouring the taverns for a decent drink. Yet in truth, Universitätsstadt strictly forbids its apprentices from leaving the premises, and the single gate that leads onto the ridge is guarded at all hours.
In the northernmost section of Vorbeck stands a massive estate housing the Cathedral of Cassander, final resting place of the Aspect of Order, Courage, and Hope. Because the cathedral holds the mortal remains of an Aspect, it has become a revered pilgrimage site for those seeking wisdom or solace.
From this cathedral, the Church administers its other estates in Praȳa. However, the current Church representative, Agilmar Eichenschild, caused a stir when he refused to reside on church grounds. Instead, he holds his audiences at the Screaming Goblin — a well-known inn in eastern Vorbeck — and commutes to the cathedral daily for ecclesiastical duties. Both clergy and townsfolk debate the implications of his choice; high-ranking priests are less than pleased, while Agilmar almost seems to relish their discomfort.
Throughout Vorbeck, bathhouses and barber-shops abound — most run either by the Church or by the Apothecaries’ Guild, two rivals vying to control public sanitation. Recently, a survivor from Friedrichshain named Ulrik Eibenwald established the House of Ills, a hospital dedicated to treating every manner of injury and illness without direct magic. Sponsored by the Apothecaries’ Guild, Ulrik’s project aims to improve everyday life in Praȳa without depending on arcane elites. Though Agilmar regrets that his former apprentice chose the guild over the Church, he has openly offered Ulrik his best wishes.
Another notable landmark is the Dwarven Consulate, hewn directly into the base of Universitätsstadt’s rocky ridge. Formerly settled in the Patrician’s Quarters, the dwarves seized the chance to live somewhere that resonated with their subterranean heritage. The consulate may well be the most remarkable building in all of Praȳa — its towering doors, adorned with finely chiseled dwarven runes and gilded reliefs, stand several meters high, and beyond them lie marble floors in black and white and diamond-studded golden chandeliers that bathe each room in warm light. Every visitor leaves in awe, though shrewder observers claim the grandeur is meant to spark envy among humans. A petty notion, but not an unlikely one.
Currently, Lynheid Billungsdottr, dwarven ambassador to Falkenstein and a skilled runesmith, resides here with her delegation while negotiating the new leases for mining in the Nargûrinbar foothills and the northern mountain range.
Universitätsstadt and Magierturm
In the heart of Vorbeck, a jagged ridge of stone juts abruptly from the surrounding landscape, connected to the rest of Praȳa only by a steep, winding trail. At the ridge’s crest, a narrow bridge spans a deep chasm, linking the main city to Universitätsstadt — a district so self-contained that Praȳa’s citizens call it “a city within a city,” and not without reason.Universitätsstadt is devoted almost entirely to Praȳa’s university, anchored by Magierturm, its wizard academy. Over the years, the two names have become nearly interchangeable, though in truth, the academy remains a separate institution that has long dominated the campus since its official founding.
The borough’s isolation is quite deliberate. While entry has always been limited by the single gate, the mages of Magierturm have heightened its seclusion further, magically shaping the ridge into what feels like an impregnable fortress. This lofty vantage allows the faculty to enforce a strict curfew, though it does little to thwart the academy’s clever apprentices, who often find hidden ways in and out.
And whenever another robed student is glimpsed in the taverns or nighttime streets of Praȳa, talk of concealed tunnels and secret passages through the ridge flares up once again — part cautionary tale, part marvel at the ingenuity that thrives within Universitätsstadt’s walls.
Altstadt (Oldtown)
Nestled beside the northern embankment lies Oldtown, the second-oldest borough in all of Praȳa—its cobbled streets worn smooth by centuries of commerce, governance, and intrigue. Only the Banks predate it, and even then, by little more than a generation.Oldtown is the realm of merchant dynasties and patrician ambition, where wealth is not merely counted but displayed. To own a stall on Oldtown’s Trade Market is to be made for life — an unspoken mark of status and success. Though not as vast or exotic as the famed Agoras of Vorilios, the Trade Market holds its own in reputation, offering a staggering array of goods from across the Northern Realms.
The borough is composed mostly of tidy houses, bustling stores, and broad market squares—but it is also home to the headquarters of the city watch. Once a royal estate, the building was gifted by the baron himself, repurposed to serve as the central command post for Praȳa’s keepers of order. The structure, a sturdy two-storey timbered hall with a steep red-tiled roof, houses its own jail — though true prisoners are kept in the city’s dungeon near the Citadel.
It was from this very watchhouse that Baron Ludwig von Südlau began his reconquest of the city during the Time of Troubles. Often sleeping under its roof, the baron worked hand in hand with the captain of the watch to plan his struggle against the grip of the city’s criminal syndicates. His presence there likely saved his life more than once, for his personal estate was set ablaze multiple times during those early, tumultuous years of his reign.
Among Oldtown’s many storied corners stands The Basted Boar, a favorite tavern among off-duty watchmen — boisterous, hearty, and rarely quiet. Not far from it lies Wallenstein’s Menagerie, a curious establishment packed to the beams with baubles, trinkets, and alleged relics of ancient myth. Its proprietor is forever seeking new “artifacts” to hawk or adventurers to fetch them.
Last but never least, the heart of Praȳa’s wealth beats quietly here — its banks. Nestled among the shops and merchant halls, they ensure that the fortunes of the city are held close, both figuratively and quite literally. In this, at least, they share common cause with Trade Market.
Patrizierviertel (Patrician Quarters)
Without question, the Patricians’ Quarters are the most resplendent and refined of Praȳa’s boroughs — a realm of manicured gardens, sloping green hills, and stately homes that seem to bask in their own importance. It is here that the city’s oldest merchant families and lowborn nobility built their estates, their manors tucked gracefully among the grasslands east of Vorbeck and north of Oldtown.This district, once wild pasture beyond the city’s early walls, now hosts Praȳa’s heart of power and privilege. The town hall, where the Senate convenes beneath its vaulted marble dome, sits here alongside the city’s main granary, the merchant’s guildhall, and many foreign consulates. The Baron’s own castle rises from the northern heights — a fortified yet elegant residence flanked by cypress trees and ivy-covered stone. Not far lies the overgrown ruin of Finckenstein Manor, once a symbol of opulence and prestige, now slowly collapsing into disrepair. Its crumbling walls and untamed gardens serve as a quiet warning of how even the grandest names may fade when fortunes and favor turn cold.
The further one strays from the palatial north and moves toward Oldtown, Vorbeck, or Osper, the more the estates give way to refined townhouses. These narrow façades often hold stylish shopfronts on their lower floors — upscale bakeries, perfumeries, barbers, and clothiers where both coin and courtesy are expected in equal measure.
For those seeking culinary delight, there is no finer destination than The Rose Petal. Perched on a terrace that overlooks the lower boroughs, this goblin-run establishment is the pride of the Patricians’ Quarters and, by many accounts, the finest restaurant in the Northern Realms. Riamata, its chef and proprietor, is a descendant of Krog the Defender and as much a legend as her ancestor. Known for her razor-sharp wit and exacting standards, she accepts no arrogance in her dining hall — only decorum and an appreciation for her near-miraculous cuisine.
Beyond such splendors lie private cafés, quaint terraces where the elite sip afternoon cordials, and exclusive bathhouses reserved for patricians and their esteemed guests. These sanctuaries of steam and silence are run by trusted guilds and guarded jealously from public entry.
Though cloistered from the struggles of the city’s poorer districts, the Patricians’ Quarters are never far from political intrigue. The Senate meets within these walls, and its Patrician members wield no small influence over the Baron's policies—pushing ever toward greater autonomy and whispering, when they think none can hear, of becoming a free city. Baron Ludwig von Südlau retains his loyalty to the Count of Falkenstein, yet the presence of the Citadel looming nearby — ever watching, ever armed — serves as a quiet reminder to the patrician families of where true power still rests.
Die Zitadelle (Citadel)
The seat of power of the proconsul, the citadel is a remnant of the Asthasean Empire and a mighty fortress. Taking up most of the north eastern wall of the city, it houses the regiments of the Count and oversees the trade routes coming from the north.Once built to stop the encroachment of the local elven kingdoms over the Behrûn, and to fortify the blooming village of Praȳa, its alabaster white walls are a monument to the craftsmanship of the Asthaseans. Its tall white walls, though scarcely adorned, show an understanding of architecture that has been lost to the realms, safe for Vorilios, and surround the whole citadel, separating them from the rest of Praȳa. The buildings within are adorned with intricately cut figurines and frescoes, showing various scenes of the Asthasean mythos and their gods. Artfully crafted columns line the pedimented porticos, and domes atop of every house are painted in the most beautiful Vorilian imagery. Those who have been fortunate enough to see the Akropolisses of Vorilios, cannot help but notice the similarities, while at the same time being instantly reminded of the villas of Anaxerion and it is here that the proconsul receives any visitors, except for the baron.
These days, though, the citadel mostly serves as barracks, although cynical citizens liken it to a second townhall, hinting at the influence the proconsul has enjoyed for the past few months.
Osper (The Works)
Osper, colloquially known as "The Works," began as a humble craftsman's settlement but has blossomed into Praȳa’s bustling industrial heart. Situated on the eastern end of the northern embankment, Osper pulses tirelessly day and night, a constant hive of production and innovation.Here, nearly every kind of artisan and craftsman can be found, their workshops and forges humming continuously. Large bakeries distribute fresh bread and pastries throughout Praȳa from here, ensuring that the borough rarely sleeps. To the north, nestled near the imposing Citadel, fletchers, weaponsmiths, and armoursmiths labor diligently to meet the military's demands, though they gladly accept private commissions as well. Among these artisans is the enigmatic Hyarmaitiel Maicatan, a North Elf whose swordsmithing skill is matched only by her mystique. Her blades, reputed to be among the finest in the Realms, attract clients from near and far.
Vital craftsmen such as cartwrights, wheelwrights, and coopers maintain the logistical heartbeat of the city, their diligent work ensuring the constant flow of goods. Carpenters, turners, and blacksmiths supply essential furniture and tools that keep Praȳa’s complex urban life functioning smoothly.
Amidst the bustling streets, tailors and cobblers ply their trades, yet none approach the renown of Ferrante di Rasinia, the celebrated Half-Elf whose shop "Il Sogno di Seta" (The Silken Dream) is a landmark of Osper. Ferrante, despite his fame and the fortunes he has earned clothing kings, dukes, and counts across the Realms, chooses to remain here, savoring quiet moments over his beloved coffee.
Additionally, whitesmiths and tinsmiths thrive in Osper, with several recently collaborating closely with the House of Ills to craft high-quality medical instruments. A notable figure among them is Grungni Nyrsson, a dwarf tinsmith whose recent sojourn to Vorilios inspired him to create a groundbreaking device capable of injecting liquids—developed specifically for Ulrik Eibenwald's medical practice.
This diverse concentration of artisans naturally led to the establishment of the Toolers' Guild, an influential body dedicated to representing artisan interests within Praȳa. Though not the most politically powerful guild, its significance has secured it a valued seat on the baron's council, ensuring the voice of craftsmanship continues to shape the city's future.
Südstadt (Southwalk)
They say the eastern embankment is the simpler side of Praȳa, without the noisy industry of Osper or the hectic markets of Oldtown. And if you ignore the repair docks and shipyards of the Docks, you would be right.Southwalk consists mainly of farmhouses, with their fields of crop, next to wind mills, barns, silos, and chicken coops, which complement the pastoral feeling of Southwalk. Butchers, farriers, and coopers fit right into this idyll, but even smokehouses, breweries, tanneries, and weavers are a common sight here. Sometimes, pne could lose themself in the illusion of a village.
The further in you go, though, the more city buildings pop up. Here, all dock workers neither rich enough for the northern embankment, nor desperate enough for the western, live here. The squalor doesn't rival that of Vesper, or the Works, but the further towards the shipyards you go, the more the pastoral landscape is replaced with soot-stained brick buildings.
It also here that the Apothecaries' Guild has its headquarters, as well as most of its supporters. The bathhouses, and alchemist and barber shops this side of the river are almost exclusively owned by the apothecaries, and people have come to rely on them for help, instead of the church of Cassander.
Guilds and Factions
The Baron
The baron is the most powerful political faction in Praȳa, which is to be expected in a feudal system. What is unexpected is the intricate political landscape behind the baron. Unlike most rulers, the baron of Praȳa sports a senate, consisting almost exclusively of old patrician families, and a council of advisors, consisting of representatives of the various other factions.The members of the council mostly check the power of the senate, but also lobby for their own factions, vying for the goodwill of the baron. The senate, on the other hand, tries to lobby the needs and desires of the patricians. Only seldomly do they protest the rulings of the baron, but when they do so unanimously, the baron has to face a difficult choice: showing power and risk even more turmoil in a city of constant chaos, or acquiesce and risk the loss of autonomy, as the senate is slow to forget precedence. As long as the baron has the full support of his council, a show of power usually suffices to silence any protest the senate might bring forth, regardless of unison. But that security comes with further dependencies. Thus, the baron has to balance his favours between the senate and the council.
The baron also has several ministries that run the day-to-day operations of the city; namely, the ministries of administration, finance, security, and magic.
The ministry of administration is anything and everything that has to do with taxing and infrastructure, including building and sales permits, sales and income taxes, street cleaning, and annual events, to name but a few.
The ministry of finance is a council of bankers from each bank in Praȳa, advising the baron about his financial situation. Nobody, except the bankers on that very council, know what the ministry actually does.
The ministry of security consists of the city watch, firefighters, and nominally the citadel garrison. The minister of security is the current commander of the city watch, Hagen Haselsberger. The ministry is also responsible for the city walls and defensive infrastructure, although the citadel is under the sole jurisdiction of the proconsul. This special arrangement, about the citadel, is a constant point of content between the minister of security and the proconsul.
The ministry of magic consists of only one person, the current chancellor of Universitätsstadt, Nathanael Petereit von Felsberg.
Patrician's Senate
The patricians consist exclusively of founding families of Praȳa; those that have ruled the city for ages, until it was put under feudal rulership by the emperor. During the empire, the patricians were supressed by the local garrison. After its fall, the citadel was left abandoned for several years, until the Count of Falkenstein re-occupied the citadel.But that did not stifle the turmoil that was rising inside the city. By that time, the patricians had grown restless with the old baron, and were openly inviting criminals into the city, hoping to depose the baron and wrest power over the city back into their hands.
The senate was a compromise of the new baron, during the city's time of troubles. Back then, it was created to appease the old patrician families, so that the baron could focus his attention solely on other matters, namely the scoundrels and criminal organizations the very patricians had invited into the city.
With time, the baron came to acknowledge the control, the concept of the senate had, over the rest of the patrician families. Within the order of the senate, the baron allowed the patricians some semblance of power, being able to bring forth and discuss petitions, most of which the baron would agree upon.
Decisions are usually not made during the senate meetings, although there have been occasional instances of it happening.
The City Watch
The city watch is the main policing force of Praȳa. Any patrol out and about in the streets of the city belongs to it, any firefighter as well.In order to be a good example to the rest of the city, the city watch has been very inclusive. If there's a species living in Praȳa, you can be certain it is represented in the city watch. Its latest addition to the team is a half-orc named Mashok Tharr, one of the survivors of Friedrichshain.
Despite its rather progressive stance towards its workforce, the city watch has been hard at work trying to bring order to the city. From its headquarters in Oldtown, a two-storey timbered house with a slanted, red-tiled roof that encloses a courtyard, it has organized and executed several strikes into Vesper and Southwalk. Currently, many of the men and women of the city watch are bound to patrol the wall between Vesper and Westbank, binding a significant number of resources that the city watch could very well use elsewhere.
Universitätsstadt
Universitätsstadt began as an isolated college far removed from Praȳa’s center, long before it was recognized as an official district. Today, it stands among the city’s most renowned boroughs, dominated by the wizard academy Magierturm, which has risen to become one of the Realms’ most prolific institutions—particularly famed for its Illusion and Enchantment faculties.However, the academy’s origins were anything but arcane. At the time of its founding, the Empire had outlawed most forms of magic, forcing the university to operate strictly as a secular institution. This stance was only bolstered when Ferdinand von der Lübbe, then a student, was charged with illegally studying magic and attempting to steal a powerful artifact from a local noble family.
Despite this scandal, Ferdinand would return to Praȳa a century later to challenge Primwald, the crime lord who had become the city’s de facto ruler. With Primwald’s downfall and his network dismantled, Ferdinand successfully petitioned to welcome wizards into the university. In the autumn of 706 AotS, he and his companion Nathanael Petereit von Felsberg established the first official magic faculty. Five years on, Ferdinand became Magierturm’s first chancellor. Two decades later, Magierturm formally absorbed Universitätsstadt, and the district took on the academy’s prestigious name.
These days, however, Ferdinand is noticeably absent. A rift with Nathanael prompted him to resign from his chancellorship, and he vanished from public life soon after — a loss deeply felt by many high-ranking wizards, for Ferdinand was reputedly the last living master of wild magic. Where he now resides — and whether his talents persist — remains an enduring mystery in Praȳa.
The Merchants Guild
Not to be confused with the patricians, the merchant's guild consists of all the merchants of Praȳa. While many of them also belong to patrician families, their interest and those of the patrician's senate might not always align.The city's merchants usually peddle their wares in the trade quarters or on the docks, owning most of the quays anyway.
The Toolers Guild
All those following a producing craft are united in this guild. Tanners, blacksmiths, toolers, cobblers, you name it. The toolers' guild controls most of Osper, and originates from there. The guild itself doesn't have much political power, but usually aligns with the merchants' guild, to project more power than either of them could alone. Nonetheless, the Merchants and Toolers Guild are constantly clashing over prices, which makes their alliance a precarious affair, at best.The Church of Cassander
The church of Cassander is the main cult of the official church in Praȳa. It owns most of the churches, soup kitchens, and orphanage, and can project its influence through these institutions. A fact, the baron is quite aware of. Nonetheless, the church has never acted in bad faith against the baron, nor does it seem to be going to, with its current local leader.Agilmar Eichenschild is one of the survivors of Friedrichshain, and also the only Archbishop alive. Thus, it was an easy decision to annoint him as the spokesperson of the local Cassander cult. Although Agilmar is required to return to Pfalzwangen, the seat of power of the Church, he profoundly ignores that very fact and has taken over as highest member of the Church in Praȳa. As he is one of the survivors of Friedrichshain, his loyalties are split between the Church and the Survivors.
The Proconsul
The proconsul is the representative of the count in Praȳa. The current proconsul is Answald Rabenwehr, who commands the count's garrison inside the citadel. Nominally, he also controls the granary and the mint, but a mutual agreement between him and the baron has seen these tasks shift towards the baron's ministry of administration and finances.The Apothecaries' Guild
The Apothecaries’ Guild is the youngest in Praȳa, currently striving to expand its influence by establishing additional soup kitchens and alms houses. They also funded Ulrik Eibenwald’s “House of Ills,” gaining his membership in return. Although the guild’s core is made up of alchemists, it has also drawn in a variety of like-minded individuals committed to its social outreach efforts — those eager to further humanitarian services or research the anatomy and physiology of the realm’s diverse peoples, limited as current knowledge may be. Notably, several bards have joined their ranks, helping to ease patients’ pains or nurse them back to health after the apothecaries’ sometimes rumored treatments.Being in its infancy, the Apothecaries’ Guild has encountered numerous problems over the past few months, including members behaving inappropriately toward patients and unregistered alchemists tarnishing the guild’s reputation. Matters reached a tipping point in a Senate trial that debated whether the guild should be dissolved entirely. Only through the dedicated work of Guild Master Meron Brenner and Kasimir Maigold — the guild’s very first member — was dissolution averted. In the trial’s aftermath, the guild pledged to aid the city watch in prosecuting unregistered alchemists and published a formal set of rules, guidelines, and safety protocols to govern patient care and acceptable practices.
Ironically, the trial attracted a wave of non-alchemist healers — those not sanctioned by the Church — who joined the Apothecaries’ Guild en masse. Their inclusion has broadened the guild’s reach even further, enabling them to open more soup kitchens and alms houses than ever before.
Yet rumors persist that the entire trial was a ruse orchestrated by the Baron, who, some say, secretly founded the guild to undermine the Church’s influence in Praȳa. Public gossip also hints that the apothecaries may be exhuming bodies for unspeakable experiments, though no tangible evidence has come to light. Regardless, the Church remains deeply suspicious of the guild, accusing it of violating the sanctity of death and decency. Whether these rumors hold any truth or not, many Church officials openly resent the Apothecaries’ expanding influence, fearing an erosion of their long-held monopoly on both charity and healing.
Survivors of Friedrichshain
The survivors of Friedrichshain are a loose coalition of those that have escaped the horrors of of their city. They are neither many, nor powerful enough to lobby the baron. Instead, its members dissolved into other factions, like Mashok Tharr, Agilmar Eichenschild, or Ulrik Eibenwald.The leaders of the exodus, apart from the heroes of Friedrichshain, still meet regularly, discussing ways of how to convince Praȳa's political elite to act on their behalf, and help liberate Friedrichshain and the northern lowlands of Falkenstein from the undead plague. The inofficial leader of this group is the widow of the late Friedrichshain mayor, Pia Schreiber.
The Cartel
The Cartel is the most influential criminal organization in Praȳa, and a thorn in the baron's side.They control the ugyl underbelly of the city, operating mostly in oldtown, the works, and the northern docks, where they have established several black markets and protection rackets. They are also the oldest syndicate of Praȳa, considering that a big part of their structure once belonged to the Primwald's empire.
After the fall of Primwald, his empire split into several organizations, all following a different officer of Primwald. Most of them didn't survive the year, but there were a few that continued to thrive in the chaos that was Praȳa. One of these leaders was a relatively unknown master thief, who had rallied about them a group of former specialists of Primwald. Although their identity unknown, they quickly made a name for themselves and more and more thieves and scoundrels flocked to their ranks. Today, the Cartel is more akin to a classic thieves' guild; a hierarchical structure with rules of conduct. Those that break these rules, risk being ostracized and sacrificed to the city watch. A stark contrast to the Sons of Vesper.
This has many citizens led to belief that the Cartel's crime boss has a secret understanding with the baron on how, where, and when the Cartel is allowed to operate inside Praȳa.
Primwald (deceased)
A kingpin who controlled the entire crime world of Praȳa, and arguably Praȳa itself. Primwald's regency, sometimes called Primwald's tyranny, lastet for almost one hundred years, until he was being brought down by an unknown group of adventurers, associated with Ferdinand von der Lübbe.Local legends say that these adventurers once worked for Primwald himself, before he betrayed them. They escaped Primwalds clutches only by jumping through time and space. When they emerged from that journey, he had long sought them dead. Being unbothered, the group started to gather allies and create a masterplan to bring down Primwalds empire. The rest is, as they say, history. Of course, these are just local folktales, mere stories made up by the minds of the simpler folks of Praȳa.
The Dockers
When one speaks of the Dockers of Southwalk, they usually do not mean the dock workers, but the crime organization that is dominating the underworld of eastern docks.The Dockers' Union, as they call themselves, started out as an association of the poors of Southwalk, banding together to fight for their rights. But almost as soon as they found their voice, a charismatic man named Samuriel, their direction changed, and they rapidly turned into an organization that was built on extortion, racketeering, and theft. These days, they control the whore houses and smuggling routes of the eastern embankment, and they exclusively recruit from the docks' working class. This way, they also have some influence over most of the docking companies, and any company that wants to be successful in Praȳa's Docks would do well to be on good terms with the Dockers.
The Sons of Vesper
The most notorious underworld faction in Praȳa are the Sons of Vesper.Officially, they are exclusively active in Vesper and the western embankment, but their smuggling operations and drug market spreads their influence far beyond those two districts. While they call themselves concerned citizens, who try to keep the western embankment out of the hands of Praȳa's crime lords, they are seen by the rest of the city as volatile anarchists and a threat to the integrity of the city's defenses.
The Sons of Vesper started out as a revolutionary force against the then-despot Primwald and his crime empire, and successfully wrested the Vesper and the Westbank from him. During that time, Primwald had to deal with a group of unknown adventurers associated with Ferdinand von der Lübbe, which weakened his position on the Westbank and created an opening, which the Sons of Vesper exploited ruthlessly.
History
The history of Praȳa can be categorized into several periods.
The Settler Period
Praȳa was founded in order to contest the settled wood elves (counter-settlers, so to speak)
Ca. 200 years before the fall of the empire (-200YS)
Praȳa served as an excuse to conquer more of the northern area (eventually leading to the subjugation of what today is Falkenstein, Rabenthal, and the eastern Nordmark)
These early settlers tried to divert a whole river, thus creating the Wesbehrûn and a - more or less - natural barrier for traffic
With this, all traffic towards the northern part had to go through Praȳa
In addition, they could circumvent the high tolls demanded by Primyat, for access to the open sea
The vaining strength of the Behrûn alerted Primyat, as well as rumours by merchants coming through
Primyat demanded the efforts to be ceased, or they would invade
This and the fact the Osbehrûn acts as a natural barrier for southern invaders to envelop the city, stopped Praȳa from finishing the complete drainage
The Wesbehrûn still exists, but ran much slower than the Osbehrûn, until centuries later, when Primwald magically enhanced the Wesbehrûn currents
The Golden Age Period
This was a period of rapid growth
Most trade to and from the north went through Praȳa
The rapid growth of Falkenstein, Rabenthal, and the Nordmark supported this
Praȳa also served as an alternative route to Rhônsdhale, circumventing Hamellaender tariffs on Behrûnsburgian merchants
By going around the Rabengebirge
With Anleion's conquest of Praȳa in 323YS, the city is ravaged, plundered, and almost burned to the ground; punishment for the years-long siege
Praȳa's citadel is kept intact and used as a base of operation by Anleion's host to conquer Abensberg
After Anleion's defeat, the city is mostly abandoned, with only a small trading post on the north bank of the bifurcation
The Imperial Period
In the years leading up to the foundation of the Reich in 460YS, Abensberg heavily invests in Praȳa, to rebuild this now almost-dead town, due to a feud with Primyat
Abensberg starts to control the northern trade with Praȳa again, trying to divert the river, as the settlers once did
This culminates in an open war between Primyat and Abensberg that results in the foundation of the Reich
One of the first provisions of the emperor is to create a buffer state between Abensberg and Primyat; Falkenstein
This includes Osbehrûnsthal, Suedlauen, and Praȳa
Abensberg loses control of Rabenthal, which becomes its own, autonomous region
Abensberg is generously compensated for the loss of Praȳa
A goblin named Krog saves the city from a dragon
Goblins receive full citizenship because of this
The Primwald Regime
140 years later, Primwald, a dwarven criminal, ascends the throne of criminal overlord
At the same time, House Finckenstein slowly descends into oblivion, two seemingly unrelated events
One of the most important and powerful relics is stolen from House Finckenstein, ruining their reputation
Primwald's reign sees the city expand even faster than the Golden Age, growing to its current size
Praȳa becomes one of the biggest and most important in-land ports in the Realms
100 years later, Primwald is toppled by a group of former citizens
The Time of Troubles
While Primwald is defeated, the fall of his criminal empire sends ripples throughout the city
The barons over the next 100 years try to stabilize the city
During this time the Reichrevolution happens and the Reich is dissolved
The baron of Praȳa swears fealty to Falkenstein, to the chargrin of Abensberg
With the ascencion of the current baron, Praȳa's time of troubles begin
Points of interest
The Screaming Goblin
If the eastbank is where weary dock workers grind out their coin, then the Vorbeck’s trade quarters is where that coin changes hands — and no place reflects that mix of commerce and chaos quite like The Screaming Goblin.From the outside, the tavern and inn looks like any other establishment catering to merchants, sailors, and travelers — a sturdy, timber-framed building with a shingled roof, its windows glowing with firelight. But step inside, and the first thing you see — and hear — is the massive, gaping maw of a stone goblin head, carved into the great hearth that dominates the far wall. Flames roar from within, licking up between jagged stone teeth, casting long shadows across the room. Whether the sculptor meant for it to look terrified, furious, or simply insane is a matter of much debate, but the name stuck, and so did the tavern’s reputation.
The main hall is a storm of sound and movement. The scent of roasted meat, spilled ale, and old wood smoke fills the air, mingling with the ever-present murmur of trade talk, gambling boasts, and the occasional shouted insult. Merchants fresh from the road sit in tight clusters, tallying profits over tankards of frothy mead, while dockhands with salt-crusted coats hunch over dice games, their laughter edged with the sharpness of men who’ve seen too many fights.
The bar stretches nearly the length of the room, manned by quick-handed bartenders who pour drinks with practiced ease, filling clay mugs and iron-rimmed goblets from barrels stacked high. The shelves behind them hold bottles of imported wine, smoky whiskies, and questionable brews brought in from the farthest reaches of the Realms. A few brave souls sip from a black-glass bottle that’s said to be distilled from something not entirely legal.
The inn’s upper floors rattle with the noise of foot traffic, creaky wooden beams groaning under the weight of travelers coming and going at all hours. The rooms are cheap but solid, catering to merchants too frugal for the city’s finer inns and adventurers too reckless to care for luxury. More than one guest has woken to find a rat sitting on their chest, staring at them as if weighing their worth.
Despite its rough edges, The Screaming Goblin isn’t lawless. The owner — a scarred old sellsword with a booming voice and a sharp eye — ensures that while brawls are tolerated, outright murder is not. Many a would-be troublemaker has been hauled out the door by the collar, only to find themselves dumped unceremoniously in the gutter. The regulars know the rules: drink hard, play fair, and don’t anger the goblin — or rather, the barkeep who stands in its fiery glow, watching everything with the patience of a predator.
And so, The Screaming Goblin endures, a place where coin, drink, and the occasional thrown chair flow freely. Whether you’re a merchant looking to strike a deal, a sailor looking to spend your wages, or a rogue with an ear to the ground, this is where you come when you want a drink strong enough to burn and a night loud enough to remember.
The Basted Boar
In the heart of Oldtown, where the streets are worn smooth by centuries of boots and the city’s bones lie beneath cracked cobblestones, stands The Basted Boar—not just a tavern, but a landmark.Unlike the rowdier alehouses near the docks or the dim-lit dens of Eastbank, The Basted Boar is a place of order, tradition, and well-earned respite. It is where the city guard dines, drinks, and—more often than not—vents their frustrations with one another rather than their fists. The establishment owes its longevity to the very men and women who fill its benches nightly; no foolish drunkard or trouble-seeker dares start a fight in the one tavern where the Watch outnumbers everyone else.
The building itself is a sturdy, timbered longhouse, broader and more well-kept than the common peasant’s inn, with thick stone foundations and walls reinforced to withstand centuries of city gossip, half-truths, and the occasional drunken collapse of an exhausted guardsman. Above the wide double doors, a heavy wooden sign creaks in the breeze, carved with the image of a rotund, crisply basted boar upon a spit, its painted glaze almost as rich as the scent that perpetually drifts from the kitchen.
Inside, the hall is broad and welcoming, with long oak tables that could seat entire squads and a hearth big enough to roast a full pig on special nights. City-issued banners hang from the rafters, gifted by captains and commanders over the years, marking this as a second home to the men and women who uphold the law. The air is thick with the scent of peppered meat, charred bread, and strong ale, mingling with the ever-present murmur of half-told stories, weary complaints, and loud, uncontrollable laughter.
The bar stretches nearly the length of the room, its surface well-polished from years of gloved hands slamming down coins in exchange for drink. Behind it, the matronly owner—a woman as unyielding as a city gate and just as necessary—oversees the evening’s patrons with a sharp eye, ensuring that no mugs run dry, no plates stay empty, and no fool gets the idea to start something they’ll regret. She’s thrown out plenty of rowdy newcomers in her time, often with the assistance of the very same guards they were foolish enough to provoke.
The kitchen, legendary in its own right, churns out plates of roasted boar, thick onion-laden stews, trenchers of gravy-soaked bread, and crisped potatoes with just the right amount of char. While other taverns serve whatever a farmer managed to drag to market, The Basted Boar prides itself on feeding the Watch properly, ensuring that no guard leaves hungry—nor too drunk to report for duty the next morning.
Here, captains and recruits drink side by side, the grizzled veterans swapping exaggerated tales of past skirmishes while young watchmen listen wide-eyed, hoping to one day have a story of their own. Complaints about corrupt patricians, senseless laws, and the ever-growing stupidity of criminals flow as freely as the ale. But beneath the grumbling, there is camaraderie, a sense of unity that only those who wear the city’s colors can understand.
And so, night after night, The Basted Boar remains standing, its fires burning, its tables full, and its place in the city’s heart as steady as the Watch itself.
The Amazon Maid
Nestled in the heart of Eastbank, where the scent of salt and fish mingles with the ever-present hum of the city, The Amazon Maid stands as a beacon of warmth and refuge. Unlike the rowdy, dimly lit alehouses that cater to the rough-and-tumble dock workers, this tavern is a sanctuary for women—a place where weary souls can drink, laugh, and unwind without fear of unwanted eyes or unkind hands.The exterior is sturdy, built of weatherworn timber and reinforced with iron-banded doors. Above the entrance, a hand-carved wooden sign sways gently in the salty breeze, depicting the silhouette of a proud warrior maiden raising a goblet in toast. A pair of lanterns with soft, enchanted light glow on either side of the doorway, casting an inviting golden hue over the cobbled street.
Inside, the air is thick with the scent of spiced mead, roasted fruits, and a faint trace of enchanted citrus—ingredients found in the tavern’s famed magical cocktails. The main hall is spacious yet cozy, illuminated by a combination of wrought-iron chandeliers and floating orbs of gentle blue light. The long, polished wooden bar gleams under the glow, tended by an array of womenfolk from every walk of life—dwarves with strong arms and quick wit, elves with a graceful touch and keen eyes, goblins with sly humor and a sharp business sense, and humans with steady hands and welcoming smiles.
The tavern is alive with soft chatter, the occasional burst of laughter, and the clinking of glassware as patrons settle into cushioned booths or gather around sturdy tables carved with intricate, feminine motifs. Women from all across the city—merchant wives, mercenaries, wandering adventurers, and even noblewomen in discreet cloaks—come to relax, swapping tales over vibrant, shimmering drinks that shift color with every sip. Some cocktails warm the soul like a lover’s embrace, others instill fleeting bursts of courage or wash away exhaustion with a single sip.
But not all nights are peaceful. The dock workers, surly from hard labor and stronger drink, sometimes gather outside, grumbling about a place that bars them entry. Some try their luck, shoving past the threshold only to be met by the owner’s unyielding glare and the presence of a well-placed club, knife, or spell. Regulars know that The Amazon Maid is no helpless flower—it is a fortress where sisterhood is steel, and those who cross its threshold with ill intent soon regret their folly.
And so, despite the challenges, the tavern stands strong, its doors open to any woman who seeks a night of solace, friendship, and the kind of drink that can make the world’s worries melt away—if only for a little while.
The Rose Petal
Praȳa’s crown jewel of cuisine lies nestled along the terraced hills of the Patrician’s Quarters, where ivy curls over pale stone walls and the air carries the scent of citrus and myrrh. This restaurant—The Rose Petal—is synonymous with excellence throughout the Northern Realms. Spoken of with reverence from the salons of Vorilios to the banquet halls of Lauenburg, it is, quite simply, the finest establishment in Praȳa, if not in all the Northern Realms.Its façade is a study in refined restraint: pale stone, carved columns, and ivy-kissed balconies. Lanterns glow like captured starlight when night descends. No sign hangs above the door, for none is needed.
Inside, everything is quiet precision — graceful, intimate, and understated in its luxury. Tables are spaced generously and dressed in fine linen, porcelain, and crystal, without feeling ostentatious. A single rose rests in a slim vase at the center of each table, charmed to change color in harmony with every course. The air hums with the soft notes of delicate music and the aromas of wild herbs, wine reductions, and other slow-cooked marvels, and conversation drifts along at a measured murmur; the atmosphere shaped as much by scent and sound as by sight.
At the heart of it all is Riamata, the restaurant’s chef and proprietor. A goblin of impeccable grace, Riamata wears no ostentation — only perfectly tailored silks and a silver hairpin that gleams against her dark green skin. Her voice is calm, her wit sharp, and her standards absolute. No dish leaves the kitchen without her approval. Some say her culinary creations are an extravaganza of taste bordering on magic, though none who know better would insult her by suggesting it. While her staff moves through the dining room like dancers in a practiced waltz, she often glides from table to table, as refined and enchanting as her cuisine, and ever a delight in conversation.
How Riamata came to own such a place in Praȳa’s most exclusive district is a story no one fully knows — and she never tells the same version twice. That a goblin would even dare run such an establishment in the heart of Praȳa was once a cause for raised eyebrows and private murmurs of disapproval. Yet any protest swiftly faded—silenced by the food, Riamata’s razor-sharp wit, and by the unwavering loyalty of her more influential patrons.
Today, securing a seat at The Rose Petal is a mark of distinction — purchased with coin, clout, or favor — and reserved for those who already belong, or for those about to.
The Shimmering Scale
The Shimmering Scale stands as a symbol of tall tales and adventure in the quiet district of Southwalk, its timbered frame and thatched roof a comforting sight against the vast stretches of farmland and pasture. Unlike the bustling taverns of Eastbank, life moves at an easier pace here — farmhands and shepherds linger over their drinks, traders stop by on their way to the heart of the city, and travelers from distant lands find themselves drawn to the inn’s peculiar charm.Above the broad stone hearth, where a roaring fire crackles on all but the warmest of nights, hangs the tavern’s namesake — a gleaming pelt, draped like a tapestry, its scales shimmering with a strange, otherworldly light. The pelt of a feathered snake is the heart of many a drunken debate, as no two patrons can quite agree on its authenticity. Some swear it is undeniably real, while others claim it’s nothing more than a masterful forgery. One thing, however, remains certain — Svenja the Snake-Eater, the proprietor and self-proclaimed pirate of legend, will swear on her scimitar that the pelt is genuine, all the while offering her guests a knowing smile.
Svenja is as stout as an oak and twice as sturdy, a dwarven woman with a booming laugh, an eye for tall tales, and an uncanny ability to empty a keg of ale without it ever seeming to affect her. Rumor has it, she once sailed the Mitrean Sea and the Sunfire Archipelago, a fearsome pirate captain whose very name sent men to their knees. Whether the stories are true or simply another layer of the grand spectacle she weaves, no one can quite tell — and perhaps that is precisely how she likes it.
The inn itself is cozy and well-worn, filled with carved wooden beams, deep-set windows, and the faint scent of roasting meat and spiced cider. Low-burning lanterns bathe the space in a golden glow, their flickering light dancing off the polished bar, where Svenja holds court each evening, spinning lurid tales of sea monsters, buried treasure, and harrowing escapes.
Despite its rustic charm, The Shimmering Scale sees a surprising variety of guests — from city folk seeking respite from the urban din to wandering adventurers drawn by the whispers of something extraordinary. All leave with full bellies, strong drink in their veins, and a lingering curiosity about the serpent’s shimmering pelt—and, perhaps, about the enigmatic dwarf behind the bar.
For in this place, where truth and fiction blur, one thing is certain — every tale, whether real or not, is worth listening to, for the price of a drink.
Oldtown's Trade Market
In the heart of Oldtown, where Praȳa’s earliest streets still follow the worn paths of memory, lies the Oldtown Trade Market—less grand than the famed Agoras of Vorilios, perhaps, but no less storied, no less proud.Here, the cobbles are worn smooth by generations, and the air carries the scent of spice, pipe smoke, and sun-warmed parchment. Sturdy timber stalls lean close to weathered stone, softened by ivy and years of familiarity. Wooden eaves and colorful stall sunblinds provide shade over polished goods and patient sellers. The bells of the old watchtower mark the hours, but many here measure time by trade and tradition.
It is a market of craft and custom, where value is not just in coin, but in the lineage of the maker and the quality of the work. Goods are arranged with care: bolts of linen and waxed wool, iron tools sharpened to a whisper’s edge, fine ink and parchment beside the hand that penned it. But there is color, too; in the woven dyes of local cloth, the bright glazes of pottery, and the painted signs of guild stalls, as well as in the laughter of children darting between stalls, the soft music of bards playing for coin, and the stories shared over mugs of cider in shaded corners.
At its heart lies one of Praȳa’s proudest features: the dwarven market, second in scale only to that of Khazad-nu-Dûrinbar. Here, dwarven merchants from across the northern holds sell lockboxes, jewelcraft, stonework, and mechanical wonders that hum with quiet precision. The ringing of hammers from open forges melds with the hum of conversation, and apprentices move briskly beneath the shadow of masters older than memory.
Though the market prides itself on trust and tradition, not every handshake is clean, and not every contract is struck in daylight. Beneath the cobbled lanes, older foundations run deep, and certain goods only appear once the lanterns are dimmed. Guild elders don’t speak of it. They simply nod when asked if the rent has been paid, and remind you to keep your coin purse close in the alleys between the bookbinders and the tanners.
Unlike the Agoras, there is no towering spire or arcane monument here, but people still come from across the Realms for what cannot be bought elsewhere: reliability, craftsmanship, and goods made to last more than a lifetime. And if you’re fortunate, the same dwarf who sold you your shop’s hinges when you were young will still be there, brows furrowed, asking if the fit’s held true all these years later.
Trade Quarters Market
A sprawling, roofed expanse nestled between Vorbeck and the Banks, Trade Quarters Market is Praȳa's primary artery for commerce, a vibrant nexus where trade and politics intertwine seamlessly. Less a market square and more an immense covered hall, the market's high ceilings stretch overhead, supported by sturdy timber beams and ornate ironwork, reminiscent of a cathedral devoted to commerce.At dawn, the market pulses with energy as merchants gather eagerly for the famed sunrise auctions. Under the dim glow of lanterns, traders from near and far compete for freshly arrived cargo—exotic silks, rare spices, precious ores, and alchemical ingredients that have just touched Praȳan soil. The air hums with tension and anticipation, punctuated by shouts of offers, counter-offers, and triumphant cries of victory.
To one side lies the Raw Materials Bazaar, a sensory explosion of color, scent, and texture. Here, raw silk cascades like rivers of fabric, barrels overflow with pungent spices, and carefully wrapped bundles of rare woods and minerals are showcased to entice discerning buyers. Alchemists and artisans roam these aisles, fingers tingling at the possibilities, securing vital ingredients long before they reach Oldtown's shops or public markets.
Yet, perhaps most distinctive is the market's second floor—a tier dedicated exclusively to the offices of Praȳa's patrician families. This upper level is accessed via a web of catwalks and elevated walkways, intricate pathways reminiscent of the tree-settlements of the Wood Elves. From this privileged vantage, the city's elite observe the commerce below in privacy, far from the noise and dust of trade, yet intimately connected to every transaction. The location of each family’s office speaks volumes: those closest to the central auction stage signal dominance in trade and influence, while peripheral offices hint at dwindling fortunes or fledgling ambitions.
Through this network of bridges and balconies, the patricians can discreetly summon merchants, broker private deals, or signal interest in new shipments without ever mingling directly with the crowd below. Such arrangements grant Praȳa’s most powerful families near-exclusive access to the choicest goods, solidifying their control over the city's economic lifeblood.
Trade Quarters Market thus stands as a testament to Praȳa’s spirit: bustling, competitive, and alive with opportunity—yet always mindful of the unseen powers that steer its fate from above.
The Cauldron
Tucked away in a winding cobblestone alley, Kasimir Myrrhenstein's alchemy shop 'The Cauldron' exudes an air of quiet mystery. The wooden sign above the entrance, aged by time and weather, bears its name in faded gold lettering, accompanied by the carved image of a bubbling pot. The faint scent of dried herbs, burning incense, and something faintly metallic lingers in the cool air, drawing in those who seek remedies, wisdom, or the occasional secret kept behind locked cabinets.Inside, the dimly lit shop is lined with towering wooden shelves, each packed with an eclectic assortment of glass vials, ceramic jars, and aged tomes. The shelves are meticulously organized, yet to the untrained eye, they appear as a chaotic collection of curiosities. Strange powders, iridescent liquids, and bundles of dried plants are housed in carefully labeled containers, their names written in a looping, elegant script. Some bottles gleam softly in the candlelight, their hues shifting when viewed from different angles.
Near the large, multi-pane window, where slivers of daylight filter through the slightly warped glass, stands a sturdy oak counter. Positioned against the wall, it serves as both workspace and point of trade, its surface worn smooth from years of use. The counter is cluttered with mortar and pestles, inkwells, and scattered notes marked with cryptic symbols. An ancient set of brass scales rests nearby, poised to measure out the exact portions needed for an elixir or remedy. Behind the counter, a towering apothecary cabinet with dozens of tiny drawers holds countless ingredients, their labels hinting at both common and arcane uses.
Next to the cabinet is a door that leads to the shop's backrooms, though its secrets are veiled behind long, heavy drapes. Now and then, they shift — stirred by an unseen draft, or perhaps something more — offering only the briefest, most tantalizing glimpses beyond. Yet the space remains shrouded in mystery, its purpose known only to those whom Kasimir allows to step past the curtain.
In one shadowed alcove, an old glass display case houses the shop’s rarest wares: a single vial of liquid silver and a philosopher’s stone fragment — though whether it’s real or just a clever imitation, only Kasimir knows.
Above, bundles of dried herbs and flowers hang from wooden beams, their shadows casting strange shapes in the flickering light of tallow candles. In one of the corners simmers the eponymous cauldron, bubbling with a deep blue liquid that occasionally releases a burst of sweet-smelling steam.
Most customers speak in hushed tones, their requests ranging from simple restoratives to more specialized brews meant to sharpen the senses, steady the hands, or calm restless dreams. The Cauldron is a place of quiet wonders, where alchemy is not just a craft but an art, and those who step inside know they are in the presence of something ever-changing.
Il Sogno di Seta
Il Sogno di Seta—The Silken Dream—stands out amidst the bustling streets of Osper with an elegance that whispers refined sophistication. Its expansive, sunlit interior immediately distinguishes it from the cramped, shadowy tailor shops scattered elsewhere in Praȳa. Tall, arched windows bathe the spacious showroom in natural light, illuminating carefully chosen garments, draped aesthetically over mannequins in dynamic poses, that shimmer subtly in hues of silk, velvet, and fine linen. Everything is meticulously arranged, every stitch and fold a testament to quality and artistry.The true heart of Il Sogno di Seta, however, remains deliberately hidden. Ferrante di Rasinia, the renowned Half-Elf tailor whose craftsmanship has adorned royalty, nobility, and those fortunate enough to earn his attention, insists that "the customer must never see how the sausage is made." Thus, the actual work—the sewing, fitting, and intricate embroidery—occurs behind discreetly curtained doorways, ensuring the mystique of Ferrante’s genius remains intact.
Ferrante himself is as compelling as his creations. A graceful, flamboyant figure whose effortless charm is matched only by his impeccable sense of style, he navigates conversations with an air of casual elegance, ever respectful yet refreshingly nonchalant. Proud of his Truscan heritage, he brings the sophistication and culture of the distant Truscana republics to his every interaction, creating not merely clothing, but experiences to be savored and remembered.
When not immersed in his creative endeavors within Il Sogno di Seta, Ferrante can often be found at one of Vorbeck’s charming coffee houses, savoring the rich, aromatic brews reminiscent of his homeland. Here, he mingles easily with artists, intellectuals, and merchants, always ready with an anecdote or insight, effortlessly weaving the vibrant tapestry of Praȳa’s cultured society.
Ísvindr Forge
Hidden gracefully among the bustling artisan workshops of Osper lies the refined smithy of Hyarmaitiel Maicatan, one of Praȳa’s most celebrated yet enigmatic figures. Known simply as Ísvindr Forge, this establishment radiates a quiet elegance rare among smithies, reflecting its owner's North Elven heritage and sophisticated tastes.From the outside, Ísvindr Forge seems less like a place of hammer and anvil and more like a shrine to craftsmanship. Tall windows set within gracefully curved wooden frames invite passersby to glimpse the serene interior. A meticulously crafted wooden sign, gracefully inscribed with delicate, shimmering Elven runes, hangs gently above the door, illuminated softly at dusk by subtle enchantments that make the lettering seem almost to float against the darkness.
Inside, one is greeted by an ambiance of tranquil sophistication rather than the harsh clangor typical of a smithy. Hyarmaitiel's workspace is impeccably organized, reflecting her meticulous nature. Polished wooden cabinets display her masterpieces—blades and weapons whose lethal purpose is matched only by their captivating beauty. Each blade is individually lit by gently glowing, magically infused lanterns that accentuate their intricate detailing and flawless polish. Walls adorned with artful tapestries depict legendary Elven battles and myths, adding layers of cultural richness to the refined atmosphere.
The gentle fragrance of sandalwood, cedar, and subtle forge-smoke permeates the air, blending harmoniously to create an atmosphere of serene reverence. Towards the back of the shop, visible through an ornate archway, lies Hyarmaitiel’s forge—spotlessly clean yet humming with latent energy, its flames burning quietly in an almost reverential hush.
Hyarmaitiel herself is a study in elegant reserve. With features both noble and striking, her silver-hued hair tied back neatly, she moves through her shop with the grace and assurance of one who has mastered her craft through decades, if not centuries, of disciplined practice. Her piercing eyes reflect the ancient wisdom of her North Elven lineage, assessing visitors not only for their ability to pay her famously exorbitant prices but also their worthiness to wield one of her creations.
Every noble family across the Realms aspires to own a Maicatan blade, viewing such ownership as a mark of both status and discerning taste. Though her fees may be extraordinary, patrons of Ísvindr Forge leave not merely with a weapon, but with a timeless heirloom—exquisitely balanced, peerlessly crafted, and infused with the ethereal elegance of Elven mastery.
Nyrsson's Workshop
Stepping into Grungni Nyrsson's workshop is akin to entering the brilliant yet scatter-brained mind of its owner — warm, bustling, and filled with delightful chaos. Situated comfortably within the industrious borough of Osper, the shop hums with mechanical life, a symphony of gentle whirring, ticking, and occasional buzzing from a myriad of peculiar devices whose purposes are as whimsical as they are mysterious.Every corner of the workshop is cluttered with gears, springs, brass casings, and half-completed contraptions. Workbenches overflow with delicate metalwork and tools strewn haphazardly amidst sketches and schematics scribbled with barely legible notes. Yet amidst this seemingly disorganized sprawl, there's a welcoming warmth, emphasized by the soft glow of gas lamps reflecting off polished copper and brass.
Grungni himself, a young and comely dwarf with neatly braided dark brown hair and beard, moves through this orchestrated chaos with cheerful enthusiasm. Often found adjusting his distinctive copper goggles — fitted with multiple lenses that flip and fold — he eagerly greets visitors with an infectious grin. His muscular frame and boundless energy reflect a life spent meticulously crafting and tinkering, his deep voice weaving passionately through lengthy, technical explanations that most find difficult to follow but endearing nonetheless.
At his side is Gullenborsti, an intricate mechanical construct companion resembling a small, golden boar, dutifully following his master's bustling movements around the workshop. Proudly displayed near the center is Grungni's latest marvel: a delicate mechanical hummingbird with emerald and sapphire plumage, gracefully hovering as its delicate wings buzz softly.
Patrons soon discover that behind Grungni’s scattered brilliance lies a deeply honest and diligent craftsman. The prices are fair and openly discussed, and despite occasional forgetfulness — such as missed meals or forgotten appointments due to intense immersion in his projects — his integrity remains unwavering.
Though he maintains friendly rivalries with fellow artisans and innovators, Grungni’s true devotion lies in applying inspiration from his recent travels to Katerga, Vorilios, creating marvels that blur the lines between craftsmanship and magic. Whether one visits seeking practical devices or simply to marvel at ingenuity, they invariably leave warmed by both the charming chaos of Grungni’s shop and the earnest genius of its proprietor. Visitors can often hear the industrious clanging of tools, as Grungni himself is almost always engrossed in his creations, seldom sleeping as he pursues the spark of innovation.
The Wallenstein Collection
The Wallenstein Collection resides within an elegant building of polished white marble and dark oak, a quiet sanctuary amidst Praȳa's bustling streets. Upon entry, visitors are greeted by softly lit, meticulously arranged galleries, where carefully curated artifacts from fallen civilizations rest on granite pedestals or within glass vitrines etched with delicate runes. Tapestries depicting ancient battles and ceremonial reliefs adorn the walls, providing a dignified, orderly introduction to forgotten deities and royal processions long faded from memory.Yet as visitors venture deeper into the museum, this atmosphere of scholarly refinement gradually gives way to rooms filled with historical splendors, creating a veritable jungle of historical treasures that surround and envelop visitors as they venture deeper inside. Here, the collection becomes an exuberant celebration of antiquity, each chamber overflowing with relics stacked high and tightly packed together. Shelves, cabinets, and pedestals crowded with artifacts rise like dense foliage, their surfaces adorned with ancient pottery, weathered scrolls, ceremonial masks, and engraved weapons whose craftsmanship echoes distant cultures long turned to dust.
This maze of history guides visitors gently but irresistibly toward the museum's heart, where its greatest treasures lie. Here rests the shattered sword Anariel, displayed prominently beneath protective glass, its fractured blade murmuring echoes of Anleion, the legendary North-Elf warlord who nearly conquered the Realms almost five centuries ago. Nearby, softly pulsing with an ethereal glow, are the Everlasting Lanterns, mysterious survivors from an empire even older than the fabled Asthasea.
Within the Wallenstein Collection, visitors journey from graceful elegance into sumptuous abundance, guided through history's rich tapestry to uncover relics whose presence whispers endlessly of triumph, mystery, and ancient splendor.
Krog's Vigil
Set against the bustling northern docks of Praȳa stands a solitary bronze statue of a goblin — Krog, the unlikely hero who gave his life to save Praȳa from certain devastation by an ancient dragon, in the tumultuous months following the fall of Primwald. It commemorates a decisive moment in Praȳa’s history: when a single act of selfless bravery dismantled centuries of prejudice and earned goblins the right to call themselves full citizens.Krog is depicted mid-stride, clutching a rope coiled around his arm — a symbolic nod to his dockhand roots and the daring plan he devised to ensnare the dragon’s wings. A closer look reveals meticulous detail in his determined eyes, the worn texture of his palms, and the faint outline of scales carved into the statue’s base, hinting at the beast he faced. Etched into the base, an inscription in both Common and Goblin script honors Krog’s final battle:
The mark of a true hero is not their ancestry, but their bravery.The impact of Krog’s sacrifice on the city’s social order was profound. Before that day, goblins in Praȳa struggled for acceptance, often relegated to menial tasks and overlooked in civic life. Yet when the dragon descended upon the city — its breath scorching rooftops and terrorizing citizens — Krog rallied to protect the place he called home.
In honour of the sacrifice of Krog, the Goblin.
May his courage guide our hearts.
Ultimately, he brought the creature crashing into the harbor, though he himself succumbed to fatal wounds soon after. In the aftermath of that battle, the city’s leaders could no longer deny the loyalty or valor of its goblin population. Spurred by Krog’s sacrifice, Praȳa granted full citizenship rights to goblins, opening new paths for them — an achievement bittersweet but undeniable in the wake of Krog’s martyrdom. While this did not eradicate all prejudice towards goblins, it helped alleviate the problem somewhat and attracted even more goblins, to try their luck in Praȳa.
To this day, locals leave small tokens—flowers, ribbons, or a bottle of potent goblin spirits—at the statue’s bronze pedestal. Some trace the outline of the rope in silent thanks or admiration. Though dwarfed by Praȳa’s grand cathedrals and monuments, Krog’s Vigil holds a unique place in the city’s heart: a testament to sacrifice and a reminder that true heroism is not born from ancestry, but bravery alone.
Magierturm
Magierturm stands at the heart of Universitätsstadt like a proud monument to arcane ingenuity. Once an afterthought within the old university grounds, it rose to become Praȳa’s premier mage academy—eventually absorbing the entire district into its domain. Its most iconic feature is the cluster of tall, narrow towers that spear the sky, their silhouettes visible from nearly every corner of the city.These slender spires, while impressive from the outside, hardly hint at the true scale within. The mages of Magierturm despised the limited quarters they had to share and have employed potent spells to counter the district’s limited footprint atop the ridge. Grand lecture halls, winding corridors, and hidden study rooms sprawl far beyond the walls’ visible boundaries, stretching the interior into a labyrinthine wonder. Students soon learn that stepping through a simple oak doorway might reveal an entire library, an ornate auditorium, or even a magical greenhouse — each more spacious and splendid than its external proportions suggest.
Despite its prominence today, Magierturm’s origins were decidedly underground. A small circle of students once dabbled in wild magic, at a time when it was met with prejudice and persecution. Upon discovering their secret research, the university administration expelled the group, dismantled their projects, and tightened restrictions across campus. Only after Ferdinand von der Lübbe — one of those expelled students — and other adventurers overthrew the tyrant Primwald did the university relent. It begrudgingly allowed Ferdinand and Nathanael to establish a formal faculty devoted to Illusion and Enchantment, laying the groundwork for what would eventually become Magierturm.
Today, the towers serve as both symbolic and literal beacons of knowledge. A strict curfew hangs over Universitätsstadt, but the academy’s clever apprentices are adept at circumventing barriers—magical and mundane. Late-night wanders down the corridor can lead to secret workshops or star-gazing balconies far above the city, each one a testament to Magierturm’s refusal to be confined by ordinary limits of space, politics, or imagination. Despite its often aloof faculty and rigorous entry standards, Magierturm remains an architectural marvel and a nexus of arcane intrigue—an ever-evolving testament to what mages can achieve when given the freedom to reshape reality itself.
Imperial Citadel
Rising from the northwestern walls of Praȳa, the Imperial Citadel is a fortress of stone, an unshakable presence that looms over the city as both watchman and warden. Once a garrison for imperial legions, first under the Asthasean Empire and later the Reich, it now houses a permanent regiment, not to protect Praȳa from outside threats, but to ensure its continued allegiance to the Count of Falkenstein. Though the days of empires have faded, the Citadel remains — a silent enforcer of feudal order.Unlike the city watch, which polices the streets, the garrisoned soldiers serve a different purpose. They do not answer to the Baron, nor do they enforce his decrees. Instead, they stand as a reminder, not to the city’s ruler, but to its Senate — a stark, immovable symbol of the Count’s watchful eye. While Baron Ludwig von Südlau is loyal to his liege and acknowledges the natural order of nobility, the Patricians have long dreamed of breaking free, seeking to cast off the Count’s influence, and declare the city a free state. To them, the Citadel is a shackle, one they cannot break nor ignore.
Despite this, the regiment is not an occupying force, nor does it directly interfere in city affairs. The Baron rules in name and law, and while he is not bound by the Senate’s decisions, he has learned to govern through careful balance, ensuring the powerful merchant families remain content — but never too ambitious. The Citadel serves as his unspoken advantage, a covert tool of influence. When the Senate grows too bold, or the Patricians press too far, the Baron does not need to issue threats. The Citadel speaks for him.
More than just a fortress, the Citadel is a gatehouse, controlling the only official passage through the northern walls of Praȳa. Any traveler, merchant, or envoy entering from the north must first pass through its outer gate, cross the vast courtyard, and submit to inspection. Contraband is rare, smuggling is all but impossible, and those who might seek to enter the city unseen dare not try their luck beneath the watchful gaze of the garrison.
Inside its formidable walls, the courtyard echoes with the ring of steel and the bark of orders, as the garrison drills beneath the fortress towers. The soldiers here do not uphold the city’s law, but when the streets erupt in riot or rebellion, the city watch may petition the Citadel for aid. And when they do, the response is swift, disciplined, and absolute.
The fortress itself, built for defense rather than grandeur, is an uncompromising mass of stone. Its thick, sloped walls, reinforced bastions, and tall, narrow windows give it the air of a place where comfort is secondary to control. At its heart, behind war tables and sealed directives, Proconsul Answald Rabenwehr conducts his affairs — not as a ruler, but as the Count’s hand in Praȳa. His presence is not one of governance, but of vigilance, ensuring that the Senate remembers its place, the Patricians temper their ambitions, and the Baron remains true to his fealty.
For the people of Praȳa, the Imperial Citadel is an ever-present shadow — not a threat, but a reminder.
For smugglers and outlaws, it is an unbroken wall, sealing off the north.
For the Senate, it is a silent spectator, waiting for the moment their ambitions rise too high.
For the Count of Falkenstein, it is his hold upon the city, firm yet unyielding.
Baron's Castle
Nestled gracefully among the idyllic hills of the northern Patricians' Quarters, just close enough to still see the bustling heart of Praȳa's administration - its town hall - lies the baron's castle, a dignified manor exuding quiet elegance rather than imposing grandeur. Inspired by refined Flaneste architecture, the manor's gentle stone facade, slender spires, and tall, mullioned windows offer an inviting yet distinguished visage. Ivy and blooming wisteria climb the manor's walls, lending it an air of tranquil sophistication.The manor opens into a series of rooms richly adorned with warm oak paneling, intricately carved moldings, and vaulted ceilings reminiscent of a Rhôndhalian hunting lodge. Portraits of previous barons, scenes of pastoral hunts, and tasteful landscapes decorate the halls, where plush carpets muffle footsteps and chandeliers cast golden pools of light. Each room, from the comfortable yet stately drawing rooms to the baron's study lined with ancient tomes and maps of the realm, speaks to both understated opulence and practical dignity.
Beyond the manor’s doors lies an expansive and meticulously maintained garden. Wide gravel pathways weave gently among trimmed hedges, vibrant flowerbeds, and serene fountains that murmur softly, providing a peaceful escape from the city's political bustle. A small, secluded grove of old oaks stands at the garden's heart, rumored to be the baron’s favorite retreat for moments of contemplation and private counsel.
The manor is not merely a residence, but the true political heart of Praȳa. Behind its dignified walls, decisions are made that shape the city’s future, balancing the subtle dance of power between the baron, his council, and the Senate. Whether viewed from afar as a charming silhouette against the setting sun or experienced up close amidst its refined halls, the baron's castle stands as a gentle yet unwavering symbol of authority and tradition.
The Royal Mint
Founding Date
Some time during the Golden Age
Type
Metropolis
Population
500.000
Inhabitant Demonym
Praȳan
Location under
- Nathanael Petereit von Felsberg, Co-Founder of Magierturm
"Carefulness? Where's the fun in that? Those who play with fire want to get burned, otherwise they're not being very clever!"
- Ferdinand von der Lübbe, Founder of Magierturm
"A mage is known by their secrets. My secret is simple; plan for success. Those that plan ahead don't need to improvise."
- Nathanael Petereit von Felsberg, Arch-Chancellor of Universitätsstadt
"Any magic worth casting is dangerous. It is only through great care, paying attention, and pure luck that we minimize the chance of failure."
- Ferdinand von der Lübbe, former Arch-Chancellor of Universitätsstadt