Druemorra, the Moonlit Forest

First Impressions: Druemorra does not rise in towers of stone but spreads as a living city beneath ancient boughs. Great trees with homes carved into their trunks glow with lantern-light, bridges of root and vine weave between them, and wolves pad through the streets as freely as men. At night the entire forest shimmers beneath the false moonlight of the Eternal Crown, silvering leaves and fur alike. Druemorra feels less like a city and more like stepping into a story told by the land itself.

Nature of the City: Druemorra is the bastion of nature’s defiance, where mortals, druids, fey, and werewolves live as one. Its people claim they are the last children of the soil and sky, unbroken by Setovia’s ash and chains. Werewolves are revered as champions, druids as sages, fey as guardians, and mortals as kin who share equally in the city’s covenant: to protect the wild balance at any cost.

Landmarks:

The Fangspire Grove: A circle of colossal oaks, their trunks fused into a living citadel. Here the Packlords and Archdruids gather in council beneath branches that hum with silver light.

The Howling Glades: A vast meadow where wolfborn shift together, their howls shaking the canopy like thunder. Rites of initiation and war oaths are sworn here.

The Moonpools: Silver-lit springs said to mirror the true moon beyond the Crown. Fey dance upon their surfaces, and druids draw visions from their waters.

The Rootmarket: A sprawling trade of herbs, charms, animal companions, and enchanted goods, where mortals and fae bargain side by side.

Atmosphere: Druemorra thrums with life. Lanterns flicker in treetop dwellings, owls watch from carved roosts, and children chase wolf pups between roots. Druids bless food and weapons in the open, while fey slip through the crowd like wandering stars. It is a place of joy as much as ferocity — a community that feels alive, bound by trust, blood, and the silver glow of their moon.

The War of Ash and Fang: For a decade Druemorra and Setovia clashed in endless bloodshed. Wolves tore vampires apart in forest and field, while Setovia’s fangs and constructs burned the woods in turn. Both sides bled until the land itself screamed, and neither could claim victory. The peace that followed was not born of mercy but of exhaustion — a truce forced by loss.

The Fragile Peace: For twenty years the two powers have abided in uneasy quiet. Watchfires still burn on the borders, and spies vanish in the woods. Trade flickers only in shadows. Every oath is made under suspicion, for both sides know the peace will not last. Druemorra waits for the moment when the ash falters; Setovia waits for the howl that breaks the silence.

Relationship to Setovia: Druemorra is Setovia’s greatest rival — wild balance against hive order, the moonlit forest against the Crown of ash. Where Setovia drills mortals, vampires, and abominations into precise regiments, Druemorra unleashes packs bound by blood and instinct. Vampires dread the bite of Druemorra’s wolfborn, for the wound festers with moon-cursed fire no hymn or alchemy can cleanse. As werewolves dread the fangs of Setovia’s brood, whose venomous blood burns through their veins like ashfire, searing away their strength until only bone and silence remain. To Druemorra, the Eternal Crown is a blight upon the sky, and their oath is simple: the forest will outlast the hive.

Habitants of Druemorra

Druemorra is more than a fortress-city — it is a living sanctuary of nature’s chosen. Its streets and forests are shared by mortals, wolfborn, druids, and stranger kin who reject the Eternal Crown.

• Wolfborn Packs: The heart of Druemorra’s strength, clans of werewolves who live openly among mortals. Their presence is woven into daily life — smiths, hunters, and soldiers alike. Pack hierarchy bleeds into civic rule, making the city feel as much den as fortress.
• Druids of the Stonefang Grove: Mortal mystics who channel primal forces of blood, soil, and moonlight. They heal the sick, bless weapons, and bind oaths with rituals older than Setovia’s hymns. Their word is law, second only to the Packlords.
• Fey-Blooded Kin: Druemorra’s wild forests harbor fay folk — beings of twilight and root, neither mortal nor immortal. Some walk openly as merchants, healers, or advisors. Others remain hidden, watching with eyes like lanterns. These fae are guardians of balance, wary allies who lend Druemorra strength in return for sanctuary.
• Shifters & Wildlings: Not true werewolves, but mortals touched by the wild — some sprout claws, others bear fox ears, antlers, or hawk’s eyes. They are honored as half-way kin, often serving as scouts, hunters, and messengers.
• Beast Companions: Wolves, bears, owls, and stags live freely within Druemorra’s bounds. Many are more than beasts, their eyes shining with druidic blessing. Packs of spectral hounds guard the borders, and owls with ember eyes carry messages through the forests.

Atmosphere with Habitants: Walking through Druemorra feels like stepping into a living myth. Mortals barter beside druids in antlered crowns; wolfborn laugh with children; fae slip through markets with whispers like bells. Animals prowl freely, yet no one fears them — for here, the city and the wild are one.

Common Saying in Druemorra:

“The hive builds chains. We are the breaking of chains.”