Stormreach

It’s a ruin.
$$This is your first thought as Stormreach comes into view: The city has been destroyed by some terrible disaster. You see crumbling walls and squat, shattered towers. Then a moment later, you realize how far you still are from the city, and you notice the smaller structures clustered around those broken foundations. These ruins must be the work of the giants, buildings that fell long before humans came to this land.
$$It might not be a ruin, but Stormreach is a ramshackle city. As you draw closer, you see that the buildings are an astonishing assortment of architectural styles and materials. Some of the inhabitants have constructed their homes using stone quarried from the ruins themselves; others are partially built from driftwood or the hulls of broken ships. The Flamic architecture of Thrane stands next to a thatched hut that would seem more at home in the Shadow Marches. The city is a tapestry, hinting at the diverse range of people that have settled here.
$$From what you can see, Stormreach is spread over a wide area, flowing down along a river valley. Barges and passenger skiffs drift between the harbor and the depths of the city. Vegetation-covered cliffs surround the valley with a curtain of lush green.
$$As a boomtown devoted to extracting Xen’drik’s riches, Stormreach will never be mistaken for a capital city or a paragon of architectural splendor. The climate seems agreeable, though (at least between storms), and the place holds an air of ancient mystery. You can see why so many choose to stay in Stormreach long after their expeditions have staggered out of Xen’drik’s interior and returned to civilization.

Cross District

Cross is all abustle.
$$The main streets lead to and from the city’s other districts, making it a busy place to pass through. Above the streets hang clotheslines and rope bridges between ruins and the places where people have built precariously perched homes.
$$Conversation flies everywhere, accent and idiom most typically from Cyre and Breland, while street hawkers, selling food, try to sound cosmopolitan, despite the parochial nature of their wares.

Overheard in Cross

“Hey, Mister, where did you get that axe? Is it magic? Have you ever seen a dragon? Did you kill it? Where are you from? Can you cast spells?”
$$“Apples! Get your apples! Pickled apples, sweet and tangy. Good for you sailors, and good for a treat! Spiced, pickled apples! A delicacy, green or red, sweet or sour. Get your pickled apples here!”
$$“Things can happen, things can happen all the time. You can’t trust these people or the Guard; they’re not like us. We can protect you. We wouldn’t stiff a countryman like yourself. All we require is a little donation from time to time, like a tax paying for a city watch. Only we’re better than the regular watch. What do you say?”

Forgelight District

Forgelight isn’t quiet, not at all. The hammering of the smithies, the clash of arms against shields and armor, the roar of the furnaces—these things make the place a tempest of metallic noise.
$$It isn’t quiet, but the people are hushed. The people here don’t waste words; they go about their business with a grim and admirable efficiency of language and motion that infects the whole district with seriousness.

Overheard in Forgelight

“Up until two years ago, we would have stuck a blade in one another on sight. Now we drink and share stories and laugh and salute fallen comrades on all sides of the Last War. Yet here we are, still fighting things. We can’t stop.”
$$“Wizards—phooey! Let me tell you about wizards. Cowards, the lot of ’em! Hidin’ behind spells, flouncin’ around in their robes like they own the place, actin’ like they’re better ’n us. I hate wizards, never done an honest day’s work in their lives. All that readin’, fillin’ their heads with junk. Never trust a man who reads! It ain’t natural. Now, buy a veteran a drink, eh?”
$$“If I point you out, come to the front, and you’ll be admitted through the gate to the docks for unloading. If you kick, punch, bite, or throw anything at any of the people being brought through, you’ll be escorted to the gates of Forgelight and thrown out. Clear?”

The Harbor District

It stinks here. All harbors stink, but this—this is something special.
All of Stormreach’s great sewers, pipes, and drains lead, ultimately, to the harbor. The effluent doesn’t seem to worry the wildlife; there’s plenty of fish on sale for a hungry traveler. You’re just not sure that you’d want to eat them.
Away from the chaos and business of the harbor, the city rises uphill and in from the shore. From down here it looks as if toy soldiers have come to life and settled in a ruined city, and above it all stands a great statue, staring out to sea, a beam of light shining up from its outstretched hands.

Overheard in Harbor

“Hello, sailor. Fresh off the boat, are you? Why not come with me and spend some of that hard-earned coin? You look like you need a rest, and I know just the place, right down this alley . . .”
$$“You so much as look at Aida again, and the next time we take you for a little dip in the harbor, you’ll be wearing iron shackles chained to a rock. Are we clear? Good lad.”

The Marketplace District

Here broken arches and fallen columns are covered with awnings and surrounded by market stalls. The twisting, improvised streets are crammed with people, most of them visitors, making their way through the city and stopped at every turn by hawkers trying to sell them one thing or another.
$$Three great buildings loom over everything in this quarter: Falconer’s Spire, with airships docked against it; the bazaar, a gigantic tent sheltering the city’s great open-air market; and the Lorsmarch Palace, center of the Storm Lords’ power.
$$This is the heart of the city. Here all the city’s struggles, opportunities, and dangers are gathered and intensified. You can feel it in the air, and soon something is going to change.

Overheard in Marketplace

“Dastard! Just another cup, one more cup of kuryeva. That isn’t going to bankrupt you; you’ve got vats of the stuff! You can spare me one cup, can’t you? Hey, mister, spare an old salt a few coins to buy a drink?”
$$“I don’t know how the darned things work or what they’re for. All I know—all I care about—is that the bloody pipe has started blowing steam through my house. Everything’s wet and hot, and the wood’s warping. I want to know what the Guard, what the Storm Lords, are going to do about it!”
$$“Thief! Stop her! She’s got my coin purse! Grab her! Don’t let her get away! Oh wait . . . no, here it is. My mistake. I do apologize—wait, it’s empty! Somebody stop her! She’s got my money!”

Oldgate District

You’d heard that Oldgate was one of the oldest and most significant parts of the city, but passing through it doesn’t give you that impression. Oldgate seems too ordered and polite, too clean and safe. Contrary to its name, this area feels newer than the rest of the city, and the people seem as if they’re in a city of their own, far from the chaos in the neighboring districts.

Overheard in Oldgate

“All I’m saying is the Karrns are living around that temple of Vol day in and day out, and I’ve yet to see them come to any harm. I mean, sure, they’re a scowling bunch, but they haven’t all been devoured by demons or raised as the walking dead either, have they?”
$$“Five copper will get you most places, and much faster than you can walk through those streets at this time of day. That’s fi ve copper for all of you. What do you say? Hop aboard.”
$$“It’s too clean here—everything gleaming like it was new. This is a city of ruins, and they’ve completely spoiled the atmosphere by scrubbing the grime off the stones. How are you supposed to appreciate how ancient this place is if moss and lichen isn’t on everything?”

Respite District

As you pass beneath the great arch, covered in flowering creepers, and enter Respite, you are surrounded by the sweet scent of blooming flowers.
$$Here the ruins, plant life, and new buildings seem harmonious, one flowing into the next. Even the floating rubble—fragments of long-forgotten majesties—play their part, covered in blooming plants and small trees.

Overheard in Respite

“Sure, it seems nice here with all the flowers and the pretty ruins. Trust me, though, wherever there are rich folks there’s power, and power means there’s something ugly going on. The prettiest toadstools and insects are also the most poisonous.”
$$“I’m here every morning for a dip. Coldwake is the only place in all of Stormreach where the air is actually fresh and crisp. I take a dip in there every single day, without fail. It keeps me tough, healthy, and strong.”
$$“Respite is the only decent part of this benighted city. This, my dear fellow, is civilization and decency. Everywhere else in Stormreach is barbarism or excessive patriotism, and beyond the walls are only animals. I never leave Respite if I don’t have to.”

Silverwall District

Silverwall is a place of stark contrasts. One half, called Locksmith Square, is alive with color and abuzz with activity, from street performers and peddlers to the comings and goings of locals and visitors alike. The sounds of haggling and laughter, as well as cheers and screams rising from the Red Ring, dominate the air here. Coasthold is the square’s silent neighbor. A pervasive sense of gravitas, of orderliness, fills this dignified half of Silverwall—a reminder of its neighbor’s boisterous character.

Overheard in Silverwall

“See that dwarf? The one coming down the walk just now? Don’t let the funny hat and gold-gilt cloak deceive you: He’s a Kundarak, and there’s a reason he walks the streets of Stormreach with only one bodyguard.”
$$“Oh, I’ll gladly take that bet, I will. If you think that a prancing june bug like Rossart has a chance against a powerhouse like Mourning Mikah, you’re an even bigger fool than I took you for. Mikah’s one of Kolos’s stable, and a veteran Ringer to boot.”
$$“You honestly think that knocking over Shadows is the way to make a name for yourself in this town? Your name might be Durko the Deathless out here, among us street scum, but in there, it’s just a nickname— one that’s apt to get you killed, or worse. Trust me, you want no part of them elves. And if Spider finds out you were even contemplating such a thing, it won’t matter: You’ll be Durko the Dead by sunup. Is that clear enough, or do I need to paint a picture for you?”

Southwatch District

As you pass through the gates and enter Grindstone, the air takes on a different feel. People glower at you from doorways or shutter their windows. Children stop playing their games, and only street vendors look you in the eye. These people seem more taciturn than usual for Karrns, but why?
$$Citizens from other districts move quickly, as if eager to be away from here. They seem a little fearful, and that gives the residents some measure of pride.

Overheard in Southwatch

“You think you get any say what goes on in Grindstone? We get to say what happens in Grindstone, nobody else, just us. Now, we’re going to dock a finger to remind you. Every time you look at the stump, remember who’s really in charge.”
$$“It’s not too scary living near those great big lummoxes. Some nights, special nights I guess, just as the sun sets, they sing in their own language. The sound moves right through you—so deep but so beautiful.”
$$“Have you seen my cat? He’s a tabby tomcat, mackerel colored. Probably run off to the Ship’s Cat again. Anyone would think he belonged to that shifter rather than me! What’s the use of a genuine ship’s cat getting fat and lazy on table scraps in an inn, I ask you?”

Temple District

Your senses are assaulted on all sides by the overwhelming presence of this part of the city.
$$Sight: Bright colors, pennants, entertainers dressed like colorblind magpies, swooping arches, green leaves, and colorful lanterns.
$$Smell: The tang of spices on the wind, the hint of incense and oils from the temples.
$$Sound: Temple adepts calling passersby to worship, hawkers drawing attention to their sweetmeats and savories, bards plucking at their instruments, actors calling out the merits of their plays, and, booming over all of it, the performance in the Livewood Theater.

Overheard in the Temple District

“Praise not the greater gods; they do not need your prayers. Spare a thought instead for the little gods, the ones to whom we all pray but whose names we do not know. The ones who keep our food warm, our feet shod. Praise the little gods! Praise Humoona, goddess of lemon zest. What would your sweet cakes be without her?”
$$“But hark, you hear that sound? The faint blowing of the wind where once there was a storm. Once a gale could determine the direction of the wind, but this? No arrow could find the mark, but perhaps a mark could find the arrow . . .”
$$“Ladies and gentlemen, if I might speak to you of the Pink Conch’s advantages for a moment. Our services are refined, our men and women unmatched, and our discretion limitless. And at the Conch, there is no theatrical subterfuge, as you might find at the Livewood Theater. No, here what you see is what you get. And I’d wager we have much you’d like to see.”

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