Awarth
Awarth is an industrial city, drenched in blood and brine. It is divided into nine Holds governed by the Council of Anchors and four Quarters, that exist on the fringes of the city-state, unclaimed or ungoverned by formal authority due to their treacherous conditions, sparse populations, or lawless reputations. Its culture is defined by grit and ambition, a harsh pragmatism born from generations of survival amidst the boiling seas and the grinding gears of industry. The Gree trade is Awarth’s lifeline, fueling its factories, lighting its streets, and choking its air with the stench of boiled blubber and burnt brine.
Awarth is a city of perpetual toil, its essence pumped from the organs of the monstrous Greebeasts that dwell on and beneath The Blast. The air is thick with the acrid tang of oil and the unrelenting churn of machinery, a symphony of progress and decay. Its streets teem with soot-streaked workers, scarred Greers, and opportunistic merchants, all vying for a foothold in a world as treacherous as the boiling seas beyond. Cloaked in smog, choked by brine, Awarth staggers forward under the weight of its own industry.
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