Languard’s Dreaming Spires—or sometime simply “the Spires”—is the greatest seat of learning in the Duchy and its only university. Sprawling over the Alina’s Isle, the Dreaming Spires stands in splendid isolation from the stink and clamour of the city. Only reachable by boat, it is here those desirous of learning come.
The home of Darlen’s faithful in Languard, the Watcher’s Spire—also known as Champion’s Abbey—is a heavily fortified temple complex in the north of the city. Girded by 20 ft. walls—and actually part of Languard’s city wall in places—it is an integral part of the city’s defences. Here dwell Darlen’s militaristic followers, in a perpetual state of readiness.
Standing hard against the River Ost, Kingsfell is seemingly a tranquil and prosperous village on a well-travelled trade route. However, the village stands on the site of a long-forgotten battlefield and not all the dead rest easily in their graves. Strangely, while the paladin—and lady of the village—Mira Lankinen, the scion of an ancient line, keeps watch over her lands, a subtle unease shrouds the village. Strangers sometimes arrive in Kingsfell armed with spades and picks intending to dig beneath the Kingstones, for rumours and old stories vaguely place buried treasures beneath their feet. Local laws and traditions prohibit such treasure hunting, however, and few dare to face down Mira Lankinen and her skilled, vigilant men-at-arms. Thus, so far the stones and whatever lies beneath remains undisturbed.
Named for the adventurer credited with discovering this gigantic sinkhole cutting through the Mottled Spire living rock, Varma’s Pit is nothing more than a huge hole piercing the rock above the Twilight City’s crumbling, shadowed precincts. Hidden among a great stand of stunted, wind-blasted thorn bushes and dwarf trees, it is hard to find. To make matters worse, its walls and ledges are inherently unstable and crumble if unduly disturbed. If that wasn’t enough to deter explorers, centuries of bat guano deposits make climbing here all but suicidal.
Dismissively called “Fenland” by outsiders for the broad swath of fetid, tidal saltmarsh almost cutting the duchy in twain, Ashlar sprawls along the appropriately named Hard Bay. Effectively isolated from the rest of the continent by a high plateau crowned by dark, silent woods clustering hard against a legion of fantastically shaped stone spires, Ashlar is a realm of hard, resilient folk.