Arana
Vyraheim, Realm of Norvangrheim
2341 VC/ 341 SC
The Citadel of Glass
Vyraheim, a city of some 260,000 souls, awoke from its slumber as the creeping dawn arose over the Balermoor Mountains. Vyraheim sat at the end of a spine of the Balermoor that gave way to the low forested hills, plains, and steep crags of the Fjords of Rameia. The mighty river Adune swept in across the cities Northern and Western sides before bleeding into the fjord known as Heimdoll. The city itself sat on a steep plateau jutting out from the mountains with its base and structures carved out of Elderglass. Although centuries of human habitation has largely covered these core structures with stone, lumber, and mortar. So from an outside perspective the city does look like a human built fabrication of a city. The mighty black stone curtain wall giving way to the rich white stone as the city, situated on nine levels, rose up on the steep plateau into the mountain side. However, despite all those centuries of human additions the Elderglass still shown during the time known as The Hour of Darklight. When as the Sun just sinks over the Western horizon the Elderglass glows outwardly. Inside the houses and buildings there is but darkness. Yet, if one where to go outside the city would glow like golden light for roughly an hour. Like the Elderglass had soaked up the Sunlight and then released it in a mighty display of arcane masonry. Only Kamorr has such a similar spectacle on the Northern Continent in which the Kamorri refer to it as Falselight.
Finally, at the top of the city and tucked into a niche in the Mountainside, where the citadel ascends story by story to the top. The Citadel of Glass. It alone has only been remodeled in the interior by human hands. The outside still shines with its ancient Elderglass walls, crenelations, towers, and courtyards. Even the trees were cut from Elderglass by the Vanir, the Elder Race, in an age long past. Their trunks and branches where smooth beyond imagination, yet so intricately carved every single inch was unique. The leaves looked like molten gold with blowers of many petals seemingly made out of glass silver and electrum. All of this was topped off by the, Whiteflow, a small waterfall that ran from the mountain top springs down through the city intricately until it joined the Adune.
Looking from the forward crenelations of the city, perched between two look outs was a man wearing plain clothing. Middle aged, with blond hair and piercing deep blue eyes. Beside him stood a man in heavy furs with mail and helm. His beard was forked and of deep red. The man in plain clothing spoke, "It's time. The raiding season has begun my friend Torvun."
"Yes, the portents seem to be great. An eagle flew three times over the citadel before departing South. A sign from the Gods no doubt." replied the man with the red beard.
"Yes, Altyra can reign as regent in my absence. She has done so for short duration before. This will be no different." stated the middle aged man matter of fact.
"Yes your grace. Your ship is waiting along with the others. When shall we shove off from the wharfs?"
"At high noon we depart. But for now, leave me please." The middle aged looked out at the rising dawn as Torvun departed. The clink of mail slowly diminishing as the sounds, smells, and voices of the city rose with the sun.
Whiteflow Hot Springs
The Springs that the Whiteflow ran from were situated near the top of the mountain and fed by deep natural streams and caves. The water came out warm and soothing with rich minerals that the healers told were good for the skin and body. Alchemists regularly bought water from the springs for its cleanliness.
Laying with head on the edge of one of the pools, body submerged, golden hair splayed out behind her beautiful features. Her green eyes the color of emeralds hidden by smooth eye lids. Full breasts hidden under foam with one smooth kneecap piercing the water like a mighty iceberg on the ocean. Altyra Valkyr. Eldest child of High King Ragnarr Valkyr and while not heir to the throne by the fact of being a woman, but the oldest and most experienced and therefore regent, laid in relaxation. Alone and with the cool wisps of steam as her company.
This was soon shattered by the patter of feet along the carved stairs winding down to the lower pools. A maiden, with olive skin and black hair, grey eyes, and an oval shaped face. She was Kamorri, an adorable petite girl of 13, and in the service of the Royal Household with her father being in the White Cloaks. Her speech was accented as she bowed, "My lady, your father will be departing for the first raid of the season. You will be needed in the throne room to hear the daily petitions."
Altyra stirred and opened her eyes.
