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Kal’Darakaan A large entryway greets one, With orange and grey. Magma bubbles below as you enter, A thin bridge as the path. Stalls, shops, all one could need. The sounds of metal clashing with metal. Forging, is of course happening. And the sounds of citizens drinking. While the legionaries train from afar. And the Obsidian throne. A magnificent sight. Where meetings are held, and troubles are discussed. The city is full of heat. And is a place quite inviting. A place any visitor can seek out fine crafted wares. And perhaps seek out a new ally. Hefrumm Large trees, A town of greenery and flora. Jolly laughs heard, Those with one another, drinking carrot ale. A boar roasts, an appetizing smell. The statue of a noble boar. It oversees all. Like a protector, unable to move. As a group goes off, hunting for another. Their hunting weapons are seen about. And the Chiefs Hall, The throne of the High Chief is seen. As varying plants are around. They almost invite you, Just as an old friend would. Karinah’siol A pale capital, Similar to the citizens who reside. Kind, to those kind in return. Blue and white, strewn among the city. Large fountains flow. And flowers bloom. With a library full of books, It is a place many seek knowledge. Writings, paintings, murels, and plays. Most information one should need. A place of purity, It is deserving of its name The Silver City. A city that shines bright from afar. Malinor The true home of the elves they say. A small little city, Quaint. With colorful cloth scattered about. Making up even the tents they call home. With a tavern in the center, Made up of wood, Banners of all hues are hung. With a cozy environment. Allowing all who sit inside, A little bit of calm. And rest. Varhelm A city of snow and wood. Chilled winds blowing through the air. Tapestries of red and black, And a fiery tree, nooses hung from the branches. A humble place, the tavern full of life, And warmth. Cozy, even in a frigid land. The docks, they smell of seawater. Tides crash, making their ways. Up, and down, the boats gently rock. Calming, to those with a mind full of storm. With a faith akin to crimson, The darkest shade red can be. For all those who are not yet dead. People who survive, Thrive. For it is made of Ice. Then forged into Iron. Elysium Thatched roofs and stone roads. With maple trees, arching over the path. Mountains surround, And the city feels secure. Rangers patrol, Eyes open for any sign of danger. Protecting those who need it. The land is safe. With lively tavern nights, One can share ale with friends, And those they call family. As a cold lake is along the edges, The city is warm. For this is the home of the de Astrea’s. A family that rose from the ashes. To claim what they deserved. Signed, Mirabella Violet, Court Poet of Haense All of these are gifts! Please send a bird if you wish for me to read them out!
