The Celadon Forest

Population: 10,500

Demihumans: Sylvan Elves (16,500), High Elves (2,250), Halflings (1,000), Forest Gnomes (750)

Humanoids: Some (525) in southern forest near the Gnatmarsh

The Celadon Forest stretches wide across the western edge of Nyrond, with its eastern reaches shared by the Duchy of Urnst. Though these two nations maintain an uneasy cooperation, the forest itself heeds neither crown. To most of its inhabitants, the borders marked on human maps are of little concern.

The forest is home to large communities of Sylvan Elves, and some whisper that Grugach still live in its most hidden hollows. Fey creatures abound—centaurs, treants, satyrs, dryads, pixies, and nymphs among them—living in harmony with the trees and streams. Efforts to count or tax the forest’s denizens have never been successful. Nyrondal census agents who enter too deeply often return empty-handed, if at all.

An ancient royal edict forbids the cutting of trees or the disruption of the forest’s balance, though responsible hunting is permitted. This law is respected by both Nyrond and Urnst and upheld by the forest folk themselves. The result is a vast, untamed woodland preserved through generations, its natural rhythms largely unbroken by industry.

Humans do dwell within the Celadon, though their numbers are scattered and relatively few. Hunters, druids, herbalists, and the occasional outlaw live in harmony with the land, often under the guidance of elven mentors or the forest’s druidic circles. These residents understand that survival depends on respecting the forest, not mastering it.

Though Nyrond technically governs the forest east of the Nesser River, the king’s authority holds little weight among the trees. The elves and their allies defend the forest from real threats—raiders from the southern hills, monstrous incursions from the Gnatmarsh, and opportunists seeking to harvest its timber. The Duchy of Urnst patrols the river, wary of smuggling and piracy. While Nyrond and Urnst are not enemies, mutual distrust colors their cooperation, especially regarding control of river traffic and the movements of forest dwellers.

In times of war, the Celadon answers the call of defense, not conquest. Archers, scouts, and light infantry from the Sylvan Elf communities may join Nyrondal forces or aid the Duchy of Urnst when danger threatens their borders. On rare occasions, even the centaur tribes will ride to war beside human allies. But the forest’s warriors will not be drawn into wars of ambition, and if Nyrond ever turns to unjust conquest, it is said the forest may rise against the crown, just as quickly as it once stood beside it.

The Celadon Forest remains a realm apart—ancient, watchful, and slow to change. Travelers who pass through would do well to tread lightly, for the trees have long memories, and the forest speaks in ways not all ears can hear.

The Ruins of Summer Stars

Deep within the heart of the Celadon lies the Ruined City of Summer Stars, once a beacon of elven beauty and learning. Built by High Elves in the distant past, it stood as a testament to harmony between arcane power and natural grace. Marble towers rose from the forest floor like white trees, and enchanted lanterns glowed with the light of captured starlight.

During the dark age of Vecna’s conquests, the city fell. Despite strong wards and the courage of its defenders, it was undone by treachery—an elven magus, seduced or corrupted by promises of forbidden power, turned against their kin. Vecna’s undead legions poured through the breach: wights, death knights, and worse. Dragons of shadow circled above while boneclaws and graveborn horrors slaughtered the living below. The defenders fought to the end, and it’s said that many of their spirits remain, unwilling or unable to leave.

Now overgrown and nearly lost to the forest, Summer Stars exists in a state between decay and enchantment. Illusions cloak its broken avenues, making the city difficult to find—even more difficult to escape. Its halls echo with ghostly music, and will-o’-wisps drift between crumbling statues. The ruins are home to lingering undead, fey warped by necromantic energies, and stranger things born of the city’s fall. Some say the corruption is growing, spreading deeper into the Celadon with each passing decade.

The elves forbid entry to the ruins, not only to protect the unwary, but out of reverence. They believe the dead still guard something hidden there—an ancient weapon or relic that Vecna sought but never claimed. Rumors persist of a vault beneath the central spire that still resists intrusion, sealed by high elven wards and guarded by spectral sentinels.

Despite the warnings, the city draws adventurers and treasure hunters alike. Most never return. Those who do speak of shifting corridors, strange echoes of the past, and encounters with entities that seem to exist out of time—fragments of memory given form. Few details are ever consistent, save this: Summer Stars is no ordinary ruin. It remembers what was lost, and its story is not yet over.

The Celadon Forest

Population: 10,500

Demihumans: Sylvan Elves (16,500), High Elves (2,250)

Humanoids: Some (525)

The Celadon Forest spans the western frontier of Nyrond, stretching west of the Nesser River and into the lands shared—often uneasily—with the Duchy of Urnst. Though both realms claim portions of the forest, the Celadon remains a realm unto itself. Neither crown exercises much control here, and the forest’s inhabitants maintain their own traditions, indifferent to external claims.

Sylvan Elves dwell here in great numbers, and some believe that secretive Grugach still hide in its oldest groves. Fey creatures—centaurs, treants, satyrs, dryads, pixies, and others—roam its depths, rarely seen by outsiders. These beings resist classification, let alone census. The forest’s inhabitants turn away royal officials as gently or as firmly as needed.

Royal law forbids the cutting of trees or the disruption of the natural order in the Celadon, though hunting is allowed under certain customs. Both Nyrond and the Duchy of Urnst generally respect this edict, not always from reverence, but from pragmatism—violations are punished swiftly by the forest itself. Druids, elves, and older powers all defend the balance fiercely.

Some humans make their homes in the Celadon, living quiet lives in the margins—hunters, herbalists, hermits, and druids, mostly. Many are guided by elven traditions, seeking harmony with the land rather than dominion over it. A few outlaws find temporary shelter beneath the boughs, though few last long without forest protection.

Although Nyrond claims the land east of the Nesser River, its influence fades quickly beneath the trees. The forest folk act as de facto stewards, keeping watch for raiders, monstrous threats from the southern hills, and encroachments from the marshes. The Duchy of Urnst maintains patrols along the Nesser, partly to secure its river trade and partly out of distrust—of Nyrondal ambitions, of forest secrecy, or both. Cooperation between the two realms exists, but it is rarely smooth. Each watches the other’s actions in the Celadon with quiet suspicion.

In times of genuine crisis, the Celadon may offer aid—elves, scouts, even centaurs—but only in defense of the land or the natural order. The forest does not fight for crowns or conquest. If either realm were to pursue war unjustly, the forest’s inhabitants might well resist them outright, joined by kin from the Gamboge Forest to the northeast.

To most who live there, the Celadon is not a possession to be ruled, but a living memory—wild, self-governing, and unwilling to be tamed.

The Ruins of Summer Stars

Concealed in the heart of the Celadon lies the Ruined City of Summer Stars, once a seat of elven culture and arcane mastery. Raised in the twilight years of the First Flowering, its towers were shaped from white stone and silvered wood, lit by lanterns that never dimmed. Songs from its balconies once drifted across the treetops at dusk.

All that ended during Vecna’s wars of conquest. Though the city was protected by wards and powerful defenders, it was undone by betrayal. A high elven magus, tempted by promises of dominion, allowed Vecna’s forces to bypass the city’s defenses. The assault that followed was swift and merciless. Undead swarmed the streets—wights, ghasts, boneclaws, even a shadow dragon rumored to have served as a general in Vecna’s armies. The city’s defenders fell, and those who did not die vanished into legend.

Now the city lies abandoned and overgrown, its towers crumbling beneath ivy and moss. Illusions still veil much of the ruin, hiding it even from those who pass nearby. Within, strange echoes persist—music without source, lights that flicker and vanish, figures glimpsed just out of view. The dead remain, not just as corpses, but as spirits and shadows bound to the ruins by grief or unfinished oaths.

It is said that fey creatures corrupted by the city's fall now roam its outskirts, while deeper in, powerful undead—specters, banshees, and necrotic constructs—still guard the inner sanctums. Some believe Vecna sought a particular relic buried in the heart of the city, perhaps an ancient weapon or magical codex. If so, it was never found—or still waits to be uncovered.

The Sylvan Elves forbid travel to Summer Stars. They mourn the city still, and fear what lies beneath its stones. Nonetheless, adventurers occasionally seek it out, drawn by tales of lost knowledge, untouched treasure, and forbidden power. Most are never heard from again.