The Under City
Overview
The Under City is the capital of the High Elves of Mountainrun—a radiant sanctuary nestled at the base of the towering
Crested Spire. Despite its name, the city is not buried beneath the ground. Instead, it lies in the
shadow of the mountain, woven seamlessly into the forest that surrounds it. Its name is a remembrance, a quiet homage to Lumispire, the lost city of light whose towers once pierced the sky.
Born out of sorrow, the Under City stands not as a beacon of ambition, but of endurance. Where Lumispire fell in silence, the Under City rose in reverence. Its architecture coils like vine and root around stone, each building shaped to honor nature, magic, and memory. Glimmering pathways wind through trees and crystal-lit courtyards, and the whisper of ley magic lingers in the air, faint but still alive.
Rulership
The city is ruled by
King Aranethil Starleaf, the surviving son of King Elenion—the last ruler of Lumispire. Aranethil is a figure of sorrow and strength, forged in the crucible of loss. Once a prince of a proud and ancient lineage, he now leads what remains of his people, carrying the weight of a broken legacy.
At his side stands
Queen Seraphina, his steadfast partner in both grief and governance. Her calm wisdom and unwavering presence have been a source of healing for the displaced elven people, and together, the royal couple has restored a sense of unity to a fractured nation.
Their children,
Finian and
Naida, are twin heirs to Mountainrun’s future. Finian hones his skills in martial tradition—swift, fierce, and disciplined. Naida walks the path of magic, studying the ancient arts once lost with Lumispire. Together, they represent both halves of elven power: steel and spell, memory and renewal.
History
The Under City was founded in the wake of Lumispire’s fall in 1395 BGW—a tragedy not of fire, but of fading. As the leylines dimmed and the Starheart cracked, the Drith poured into the city. Aranethil led the survivors south while his father, King Elenion, made a final stand beneath the shattered Palace of Stars.
Their path led them to Mountainrun, where the once-silent woods had flourished under the quiet care of the Wood Elves. At the foot of the Crested Spire—a solitary mountain left untouched by war—they planted the seeds of their new home. From stone, wood, and song, the Under City was born, not to rival Lumispire, but to remember it.
City Layout
The Under City spirals outward from the Crested Spire like roots from a tree. Each district is shaped by the land, not imposed upon it. Magic, architecture, and nature are intertwined.
The Spireroot Court: The royal seat, built into the base of the mountain. Home to the palace, throne hall, and sacred relic chambers.
Lighthollow Circle: A wide, open plaza of soft stone and flowering trees—markets, gathering spaces, and places of public discourse.
Mooncrest Walks: Elevated homes among the trees, connected by bridge and branch. A place of music, study, and quiet living.
The Starveil Gardens: Memorial glades planted with blossoms from Lumispire’s seeds. Each flowerbed bears the name of a lost spire.
The Concord Path: A stone road winding through the forest toward Rockcrest, maintained as a symbol of peace and unity with humankind.
Magic & Infrastructure
Though diminished, leyline threads still pulse beneath the city. They power floating platforms, glow-lanterns, and songstones that carry voices without sound. Magic here is not showy—it is intimate, sustaining, and sacred.
Much of the city's growth follows druidic and arcane principles, guided by Elven stewards called
Rootshapers, who blend spellcraft with nature. Water flows without pipes. Light blossoms from petal-shaped crystals. The city breathes alongside the forest.
Culture & Society
The High Elves of the Under City carry themselves with reverence for tradition, magic, and history. Beauty is not luxury—it is a form of devotion. Every wall carved, every gown sewn, every story spoken is done with intention.
Society is structured around service to the land, to magic, and to memory. Education is lifelong. Music and magic are practiced daily. Half-elves and outsiders are treated politely, though rarely given high offices or arcane roles.
Despite its sorrows, the Under City is not grim. Its people dance under moonlight, plant trees in remembrance, and sing the names of the fallen so they are never forgotten.
Notable Locations
The Crested Throne: The carved stone throne of Aranethil, set beneath an arching root veined with silverlight.
Temple of Leyara’s Breath: A sanctuary grown into the mountain wall, where mages come to meditate and commune with what remains of the goddess’s presence.
The Petalvault Archives: Living scrolls and memory-crystals grown from trees, storing the lost knowledge of Lumispire.
The Silver Ring Amphitheater: A performance space where elven stories are sung under the open sky.
The Bloomgate: A flowering archway at the city’s forest edge, watched over by guards and Rootshapers.
Defense & Protection
The city’s primary defenders are the
Thornveil Wardens, elite rangers and spellblades trained to move like wind through the woods. Their eyes are everywhere. Their arrows fly unseen. When needed, Queen Seraphina commands the
Moonshade Circle, a cadre of arcanists tasked with maintaining the city’s oldest wards and battle magics.
Aranethil himself, once a warrior prince, remains a deadly swordsman. Though rarely drawn, his blade
Brightspite is said to shimmer with the last light of Lumispire, and its presence alone wards off conflict.
Traditions & Festivals
The Spirelight Vigil: On the winter solstice, thousands of floating lights are released, spiraling around the Crested Spire in memory of Lumispire’s towers.
The Day of Echoes: A quiet summer holiday where the names of the lost are whispered into sacred trees, believed to be carried to Leyara herself.
The Renewal Rite: Each spring, new trees are planted by the royal family in remembrance of those who perished during the exodus.
Legacy
The Under City is a place of beauty born from ruin. It does not pretend to be what Lumispire was. Instead, it remembers. Each stone, each spire, each glade is a vow: that the light of the elves will not be extinguished, even if it flickers.
Aranethil and Seraphina guide their people not with pride, but with purpose. Finian and Naida rise behind them, shaped by the hope of what still might be. And in the shadow of the Crested Spire, the elven spirit endures.
“We did not fall. We changed.”
