Glaciara, a city carved from the very essence of winter, nestled at the southernmost corner of Avaloria, where the land met the Great Ocean. Here, at the edge of the known world, where most feared to tread, the Frostborne family had made their dominion, crafting a city that defied the elements and stood in harmony with the eternal cold. It was not merely a city; it was a testament to the power of magic and engineering, where even the harshest of climates became a force to be harnessed.
Glaciara was divided into several distinct districts, each serving a unique purpose and teeming with life. To the North-East, the Market District bustled with merchants trading wares from distant lands. Here, stalls overflowed with goods—from intricate ice carvings to enchanted textiles. To the North, the Artisans' Guild was alive with craftsmen who honed their skills, creating everything from powerful magical items to stunning jewellery, their workshops filled with the sounds of hammers striking anvil and spells being woven into creations.
The Scholar's District lay to the East, housing the Glacial Archive, a library of immeasurable knowledge, embedded deep within a glacier. Only those looking to quenching their thirst for knowledge would access to the ancient tomes that lay within its icy walls. The library held many secrets, some that the common populace was unaware of, for within its texts were records of the earliest magic users who had tamed the cold itself, the first Frostborne. It was said that the frost covering the library's exterior was alive, constantly shifting in intricate patterns of runes, hiding its true power from those who would misuse it.
To the West, the Residential District sprawled, where families lived in cosy homes warmed by magical fires. Children played in the snow-dusted streets, their laughter ringing out like a melody against the backdrop of the chilling wind. This area of Glaciara showcased the unity of its citizens, as neighbours came together for warmth and companionship during the harsh winters.
At the southernmost part of Glaciara, the city meets the edge of the Great Ocean, a vast expanse of waters stretching beyond the horizon. This part of the city, known as the Oceanic Edge, is the most mysterious and feared. No one ventures into the Great Ocean—legend holds that those who attempt to cross its ice fields never return, their fates sealed by the ancient forces that slumber beneath. The people of Glaciara speak of ghost ships frozen into the ice, their crews lost to the cold, or worse—to the mythical forces that dwell in the deep.
At the city's heart, a grand square stretched out beneath the open sky, a place where life in Glaciara pulsed at its strongest. Towering in the centre of this square was a statue of Lord Frostborne, the first patriarch of the Frostborne family. He had been the one to aid Emperor IronHeart in discovering the Dominion and forming the IronHold Empire. His likeness was frozen in time, standing tall and vigilant, carved from a single block of enchanted ice that never melted, no matter how warm the air grew in summer. IronHeart's figure was depicted wielding a frost-forged sword, the blade pointed toward the horizon as if forever marking the path forward, his eyes glowing faintly, a beacon of the city's enduring strength.
Surrounding the square were buildings of frost and stone, their facades etched with runes that shimmered in the dim light of magical lanterns. The air buzzed with life as merchants set up stalls in the streets, their goods displayed under glowing, mana-infused lights. The people of Glaciara moved through the square, wrapped in fur and heavy cloaks, their breaths forming clouds of mist in the frozen air. Despite the cold, there was an energy in the air, an unspoken sense of pride and resilience. This was a city that thrived where others would perish, and its people carried that strength with them.
Behind the square, high atop a towering cliff at the city's edge, loomed Frostborne Hall, a fortress carved directly into the mountain. Its massive gates were flanked by frost-encrusted banners bearing the Frostborne family crest—a white wolf beneath a crescent moon. The Hall was a place of power, where the ruling family governed the affairs of the city and shaped the future of Arvindor's frozen south. Its battlements shimmered with frost, and icicles hung from the towers like the fangs of some noble beast.
Roads of enchanted stone connected the districts, their surfaces imbued with magic to prevent snow from accumulating, allowing for smooth travel even in the fiercest of storms. The Glacial Way, the main thoroughfare running through the heart of the city, was lined with glowing lanterns that lit the path, guiding travellers to their destinations while emanating warmth against the cold.
Tracks connect Glaciara to other cities, laid with precision by master engineers and mages. The trains that run on these tracks are marvels of Magic Engineering that allow them to glide effortlessly across the harsh terrain of Arvindor.
For inner-city travel, there were also enchanted carriages, some driven by Frost Elks, while others are powered by magical engines. These carriages slide slightly over the surface, thanks to the circuits embedded in the roads themselves, allowing for smooth and quiet travel even during snowstorms.
Although Glaciara feels like it was a hub of the modern era, it was not without its legends, tales passed down through the generations. One of the most enduring stories told around the fires of winter was that of the Frost Giant, a being so colossal and ancient that it was said to have shaped the very land on which the city stood. The legend claimed that the giant had journeyed from a distant realm, carrying massive glaciers on its back, and laid them down here, creating the foundations of Glaciara. Some believed that it still slumbered beneath the city, buried deep in the mountains, its breath causing the never-ending snowstorms that swept across the land. Many had searched for its resting place, hoping to find the giant's lair, but none had succeeded. The myth persisted—an ever-present reminder that the city's origins were steeped in mystery.
Farther from the city centre, where the snow grew thick and unyielding, stood the Shrine of the Frozen Dawn, a sacred place where the first settlers of Glaciara had communed with the spirits of the cold. Its towering pillars were carved from enchanted ice, and the air around it seemed to hum with ancient magic. The shrine was a place of pilgrimage, where the people came to offer prayers for safe passage through winter's harshest months or to seek blessings from the frost spirits. Frozen Spirit Hall was said to be the place where the first settlers communed with the spirits of the cold and sought their protection against the harsh elements. The Hall's entrance is guarded by massive statues of frost-forged wolves, their eyes glowing with a soft, icy light. It was said that those who listened closely could hear the whispers of the past carried on the wind.
Beneath the surface, however, a hidden world pulsed with energy. Unknown to many, deep below the city lay ancient mechanisms and chambers filled with magic, remnants of times before the Frostborne rule over the city. It was here, in the frozen bowels of the earth, that the city's power truly lay. Magic flowed through the very ground, and some believed that the frost itself was a living entity, protecting the city from outside forces.
But there was something else that no one in the world knew, or they just forgot because of how distant this piece of history got. About the mysterious city, known as Thalorheim. It was a city said to have existed long before the rise of Avaloria's current kingdoms and empires. Submerged beneath the icy waters of the Great Ocean, Thalorheim was once a bustling hub of arcane knowledge and mystical wonders. Legends tell of its towering spires and glistening domes, all crafted from a combination of deep-sea stones and magic-infused coral. It was a place where mages and scholars alike gathered to study the secrets of the stars and the universe.
Over time, however, the city sank into the deep, its people disappearing without a trace. Some in the old era believed it was a result of a great calamity, while others claim its inhabitants chose to retreat into the depths, evolving into creatures that now haunt the ocean now and maybe are the reason Ocean became inaccessible to the current Arvindorian's resident.
Occasionally, explorers from Glaciara and other parts of Avaloria attempt to uncover their secrets, but none succeeded in returning to tell the tale. Not even faint whispers of the city's existence remain, nothing was passed down even as a myth by sailors and those daring enough to traverse the treacherous waters because none came back alive.
In this cold, unforgiving land, where nature's fury was ever-present, Glaciara stood as a monument to the endurance of both magic and the indomitable will of its people. It was a city built on frost, ruled by the legacy of the Frostborne family, and bound by the mysteries of the past. Every stone, every gust of icy wind, every rune carved into the city's walls whispered of stories untold and legends yet to be written.
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The Day of Frostborne
Every year, in the depths of Nightbloom—late winter, when the cold reaches its zenith—the people of Glaciara gather to celebrate The Day of Frostborne, a revered holiday commemorating the birth of their first founder, Lord Frostborne. This day marks not only the birth of a man but the beginning of an era that forged Glaciara into the mighty city it is today. The celebration is steeped in tradition, honour, and deep reverence for the legacy of the Frostborne family, a lineage that has shaped Avaloria's frozen south.
The festival begins at dawn, as the city awakens beneath the pale winter sun, shrouded in a soft snowfall that seems to bless the day with a serene beauty. Families adorn their homes with ice-carved lanterns, glowing with soft mana light, casting an ethereal glow upon the streets. The streets of Glaciara are lined with intricate ice sculptures—of wolves, ancient symbols of the Frostborne family crest, mythical creatures, and even figures of the Frost Giant, a nod to the legend tied to the city's foundation.
In the heart of Glaciara, the grand square comes alive with festivities. Merchants from across Avaloria travel to showcase their finest goods, especially magical artifacts and frost-infused trinkets. Children play in the snow, their laughter echoing through the streets, while storytellers recount the tales of Lord IronHeart Frostborne's many exploits—how he ventured into the unforgiving wilderness, braved the frost-covered peaks of the Iron Mountains, and helped Emperor IronHeart establish the IronHold Dominion.
As the sun begins to set and the dim light of twilight casts long shadows over the city, the people of Glaciara don their finest garments—robes of fur, cloaks embroidered with silver thread, and amulets blessed with protective magic—preparing for the most sacred part of the celebration: The Pilgrimage of Frost.
Led by the eldest of the Frostborne family or a high-ranking member of the Frostborne Hall, a solemn procession begins, winding its way through the icy streets of the city. Every citizen participates, holding a candle enchanted with mana to flicker in the wind, casting a silver-blue light that illuminates the darkening path. As the procession moves forward, the entire city falls into a respectful silence, broken only by the soft crunch of snow underfoot and the low hum of magic in the air.
Upon reaching the Shrine of the Frozen Dawn, the citizens gather before the steps, and the head of the Frostborne family ascends to its peak, where a special Mana Flame is lit and the privilege to light it is given to the current family head/patriarche of the Frostborne family. This flame, said to be touched by the very spirits of the cold, burns brightly for the entire night. It symbolizes the city's enduring strength, the eternal vigilance of Lord Frostborne, and the protection that magic and the Frostborne legacy provide to Glaciara.
As the flame burns, a soft chant begins—an ancient song reverbirates, said that the spirit of the ice sings the melody in the magical language Veritasia. The chant speaks of the birth of Glaciara, the forging of its people in the cold, and the enduring strength of unity and magic. The night concludes with a grand feast held in the city square, where the people come together, sharing stories, food, and warmth, celebrating not only their founder but their shared survival in the harshest of lands.
The Day of Frostborne is more than just a day of festivity. It is a reminder to the people of Glaciara of their strength, their history, and the power of magic that runs through their city like the never-ending frost. Each year, as the last light of the mana candles flickers out and the Mana Flame dims with the coming dawn, the people of Glaciara know they are ready to face whatever the future holds, just as their ancestors once did.