The Shell Lands of Thrain occupy the east of Marcia. The northern lands are especially marshy, fed by the swamplands of their neighbours. The humidity in both realms is stifling in summer, even when the sun is hidden behind bleak clouds. The Holy Mountains rise through the haze, parting the Shell Lands from the Damson. Atop their peaks lies the Ardulaem, the sacred heart of the Marcian Empire’s faith.
The eastern coast often falls prey to gloomy weather drifting from the Grey Sea, but on a golden day the sight of pinkish herliwhales surfacing can take one’s breath away. Indeed, the Thrainish maintain a special military guard known as the Pink Skins, charged with protecting not only the coast but also any beached herliwhales.
Offshore, the isle of Trivari stands as a jewel worthy of any painting—and a tax haven for the rich. The coastal town of Trilend is a favourite haunt of Mernic Barons and Free Statesmen alike, its streets humming with opulence and gossip.
The Shell Lands of Thrain occupy the east of Marcia. The northern lands are especially marshy, fed by the swamplands of their neighbours. The humidity in both realms is stifling in summer, even when the sun is hidden behind bleak clouds. The Holy Mountains rise through the haze, parting the Shell Lands from the Damson. Atop their peaks lies the Ardulaem, the sacred heart of the Marcian Empire’s faith.
The eastern coast often falls prey to gloomy weather drifting from the Grey Sea, but on a golden day the sight of pinkish herliwhales surfacing can take one’s breath away. Indeed, the Thrainish maintain a special military guard known as the Pink Skins, charged with protecting not only the coast but also any beached herliwhales.
Offshore, the isle of Trivari stands as a jewel worthy of any painting—and a tax haven for the rich. The coastal town of Trilend is a favourite haunt of Mernic Barons and Free Statesmen alike, its streets humming with opulence and gossip.
The Shell Lands of Thrain occupy the east of Marcia. The northern lands are especially marshy, fed by the swamplands of their neighbours. The humidity in both realms is stifling in summer, even when the sun is hidden behind bleak clouds. The Holy Mountains rise through the haze, parting the Shell Lands from the Damson. Atop their peaks lies the Ardulaem, the sacred heart of the Marcian Empire’s faith.
The eastern coast often falls prey to gloomy weather drifting from the Grey Sea, but on a golden day the sight of pinkish herliwhales surfacing can take one’s breath away. Indeed, the Thrainish maintain a special military guard known as the Pink Skins, charged with protecting not only the coast but also any beached herliwhales.
Offshore, the isle of Trivari stands as a jewel worthy of any painting—and a tax haven for the rich. The coastal town of Trilend is a favourite haunt of Mernic Barons and Free Statesmen alike, its streets humming with opulence and gossip.
The Shell Lands of Thrain occupy the east of Marcia. The northern lands are especially marshy, fed by the swamplands of their neighbours. The humidity in both realms is stifling in summer, even when the sun is hidden behind bleak clouds. The Holy Mountains rise through the haze, parting the Shell Lands from the Damson. Atop their peaks lies the Ardulaem, the sacred heart of the Marcian Empire’s faith.
The eastern coast often falls prey to gloomy weather drifting from the Grey Sea, but on a golden day the sight of pinkish herliwhales surfacing can take one’s breath away. Indeed, the Thrainish maintain a special military guard known as the Pink Skins, charged with protecting not only the coast but also any beached herliwhales.
Offshore, the isle of Trivari stands as a jewel worthy of any painting—and a tax haven for the rich. The coastal town of Trilend is a favourite haunt of Mernic Barons and Free Statesmen alike, its streets humming with opulence and gossip.
The Shell Lands of Thrain occupy the east of Marcia. The northern lands are especially marshy, fed by the swamplands of their neighbours. The humidity in both realms is stifling in summer, even when the sun is hidden behind bleak clouds. The Holy Mountains rise through the haze, parting the Shell Lands from the Damson. Atop their peaks lies the Ardulaem, the sacred heart of the Marcian Empire’s faith.
The eastern coast often falls prey to gloomy weather drifting from the Grey Sea, but on a golden day the sight of pinkish herliwhales surfacing can take one’s breath away. Indeed, the Thrainish maintain a special military guard known as the Pink Skins, charged with protecting not only the coast but also any beached herliwhales.
Offshore, the isle of Trivari stands as a jewel worthy of any painting—and a tax haven for the rich. The coastal town of Trilend is a favourite haunt of Mernic Barons and Free Statesmen alike, its streets humming with opulence and gossip.