Mithardir

Notable Locations

Ash-Seas and White Cities. Dune-oceans of fine, chalky dust lap at the edges of toppled marble metropoles. Arches stand intact while streets have flowed away; courtyards reappear after storms, then vanish again beneath a single night’s drift.  

Oath-Oases

Blooming basins where bread, salt, and stories are shared. Acacia, date, and silver-thorn grow around cool springs; carved knot-stelae and mural-walls hold the vows sworn there. These are Florallium’s Pelion-Bloom faces, gentle, green counterpoints to the surrounding white.  

Glass Salt Flats

Wind-polished, mirror-smooth pans that reflect stars by day and constellations by night. Pilgrims read way from sky to ground when the compass needle wanders.  

Ruin-Arcades

Endless colonnades, their capitals reworked into oath-knots and prayer-vines by present hands. When a reconciliation is reached, some columns brighten faintly at sunset.  

Snowdrop Stairs

Stair-foams of ice and flower that rise out of dry wadis when a parley standard is raised; climb them to step into Jotunheim’s fjordlight.  

Garland Gates

Twin arches woven of living bloom where dust meets green; touch bread to the lintel and speak a peace-purpose to cross between Pelion-Bloom and Jotun-Bloom.  

Inhabitants

The petitioners of the White are exiles turned guardians, wanderers who have reconciled with their past, and keepers of guest-right reborn with patient eyes. They tend the oases, restore broken waystones, and guide caravans to places where truth is honored. Among them, Azatas and Agathions hold special roles: bralani ride the brontide and anchor parley with courage, lillends curate mural-laws and stories, while leonine and avian agathions serve as escorts and watch over guest-right.   Good-hearted fey linger at the edges of the realm, oasis-ward sprites and thorn-dryads who value consent and clean departures, using their mischief to divert harm rather than cause it. From Iallanis’s charge come mediators and emissaries, brokers of truces who walk between Pelion’s desert-bloom and Jotun’s snow-bloom faces. Alongside them move civic companions: oath-gardeners who weave promises into living boughs, road-wardens who keep the paths clear, and chorus-jurors who rule with song before steel.

The Forgetful Dust drifts fine and white, first eroding petty slights and quarrels. But those who cling to cruelty find it begins to abrade even names themselves, unless a truth spoken kindly fixes memory like rain pressed into clay.   At times a Revel Tide sweeps through, blossoming a district into festival; here, magic meant to delight runs truer, while fear wielded to cow others simply falls flat. To end such a tide by force brings sanctions under Guest-Right.   The Harmonic Brontide is a distant thunderline that steadies travelers who march in chorus, but those who fall out of rhythm feel the sand gulp deeper beneath their feet. Within brittle eddies known as Law-Snaps, strict contracts hold briefly and then shatter like spun glass, wounding only the binder’s pride.   Travelers may also stumble upon Feyfoot Tracks, soft and fleeting. Good-hearted wanderers who leave bread and a story may find a guide; exploiters instead discover the tracks lead them gently, but inexorably, astray.   Magic in Mithardir favors honesty and art. Performative Casting, whether sung, sketched, knotted, or spoken in truth, steadies the mind and causes non-harmful workings to appear as part of the performance.   Through Oathcraft, spells of sending, tongues, protection, heroism, or shielding carry farther and linger longer when tied to sworn promises, with vows made as art granting hearts courage against fear. The land itself carries Mercy’s Preference, favoring magics that heal, reconcile, restore, or beautify, while necromancy that harms, enchantments that enslave, and compulsions driven by fear strain and sometimes fail. In Desert Respite, conjurations of water or shelter take kindly when shared, yet hoarded comforts wither away.   Finally, those who invoke the Guest-Right Boon, sharing bread, salt, and a true name beneath living boughs or open sky, are wrapped in a hush broken only by the first willing blood.

Winters in Mithardir are kind, cloaking the dunes in delicate lace-like snow rather than crushing them beneath heavy drifts. Blue blossoms bloom across frozen wadis, quietly marking safe crossings for those who travel with care. Warm, dry winds known as the Harmattan of Whispers carry remembered phrases across the desert. When travelers hum along, their words carry cleanly over great distances, but raised voices tangle and falter in the air. After a great squall, Dustfall Twilights dim the sky to a soft pearl sheen, and sound sharpens so keenly that even a whisper carries weightת making negotiations in this hush far more likely to endure.