Cruxis
You witness the northern city of Cruxis glistening in the valley, a wonderland of magic left running wild, perched on a crystal blue mountain lake island between the Mirno and Ravno rivers. Rising high into the sky, the towers and walls are hewn from deep-hued, fiery stone, each perfect block and embellishment chiseled and polished to a mirror-like shine. But these defenses are not just lookouts and barriers, they are a work of art, a testament to the Sorcerers' spellcraft and their love of beauty. Magical sigils and runes of abjuration are etched into the burnished stone, glowing with a soft golden light that shimmer on the lake’s soft waves at night. Tapestries and banners hang beneath the crenelations, depicting scenes of great battles, ancient myths, and heroic deeds of the familial dynasties that have governed the city since Elves and Humans first gathered here. Two massive ebony gates stand past a slender dark wood bridge across the lake, each over thirty feet tall and intricately carved with artful engravings and words of warding. At their very top, the words “De Sanguine et Magica” shine in bold crimson letters. “From Blood and Magic”.
Inside the city, never have you seen the boundaries of art, architecture, and taste so sorely tested. A riot of color splashes across this tumultuous city, brightening it even in the north’s wintry mountains. Magic lights splay over buildings painted from foundation to rooftop, and illusions twirl in midair, repeating their actions in endless loops. It looks like a thousand-way war between competing carnivals, but it’s just advertising. All manner of services, from fishmongers and corner shops to "Curses, Cheap and Effective," wield spells to draw your gaze.
Despite its chaotic appearance, Cruxis is a city that is remarkably efficient and well-organized, with its Sorcerers using and abusing every mundane subversion of the arcane they could think of to keep the city running smoothly. The streets are clean, the markets are well-stocked, and the citizens seem content with their lot in life. But beneath this facade of order and contentment lies a city that is constantly in flux, with power struggles and intrigue lurking around every corner. The Bloodlines in power hold the reins of their rule with an iron grip, and the smiles of citizens are reserved for visitors much more than each other.
Points of interest
The Academy of Arcane Arts
The Academy of Arcane Arts, the heart of Cruxis' intellectual and political life, stands magnificently by the pristine lake. It is a sprawling edifice of red marble, crowned with towering spires etched with iridescent runes. Shadowstuff archways flicker in and out of existence, entrances accessible only to those bearing invitation. Vibrant tapestries depicting centuries of magical evolution flutter from its windows, a vivid contrast to the stark marble exterior. Inside the edifice, in the vast exhibition halls, pupils of every bloodline explore the boundaries of the arcane under ethereal globes of floating light. The murmuring of a dozen dialects pervades the halls, punctuated by the occasional laughter, shouts of revelation, or the unnerving silence that follows an attempted summoning. Grand libraries filled with collections of tomes and relics tower high, overseen by the spectral librarians of Thanat and the weasel-faced deamons of Pyrebind. Across the archives, the Living Gallery of Reveria pulses with the vibrant magic of animated paintings and illusory figments of dreamspun art. At the academy's core lies the Council Chambers, a circular room where the magically lit sigils of the ruling Bloodlines create a dazzling, ever-changing ceiling fresco.
"Make no mistake, the sorcerers are thieves, not scholars. Every tome and relic hoarded in their Academy is studied for power, not wisdom." -Tarsisius the Pilgrim, Diviner of House Fulda
The Crucible of Flame
In the mountains above Cruxis, up a rune-marked trail from the lakeshore, sits the fiery caldera of a long-quiet volcano, which the Orcs of Vritra, the Bloodline of Dragons, call home. The Crucible of Flame is a forbidding panorama of molten obsidian and snow-capped granite, a stark, rugged fortress carved into the heart of the mountain. An inferno river cascades down the slopes, feeding a magma moat surrounding the stronghold. The searing heat distorts the air, creating mirages and shimmering veils over the black glass walls etched with ancient runes that glow red-hot. Stepping inside feels like walking into a dragon's belly. Fires roar in braziers, reflecting in the polished blackstone halls, casting flickering shadows that dance with a life of their own. The clamor of training echoes off the walls, intermingled with the crackle of arcane fire and the low murmur of ancient Orcish incantations. Amidst this, the scent of sweat, red-hot steel and the perfume of smoldering herbs fills the air, an incongruous but harmonious blend of raw physicality and ethereal magic.
The Gatehouse
Pyrebind's Gatehouse serves as the primary courthouse of Cruxis, where tiefling diabolists adjudicate disputes and contracts with a calm, merciless logic, their judgments as final and binding as the infernal pacts from which they draw their power. Higher devils, their services graciously lent with Hell's blessing, stand as both enforcers and witnesses, their presence a constant reminder of the Infernal Bloodline's dominion over both justice and the damned. At the core of the Gatehouse is a grand chamber where portals pulse with an eerie light, two permanent gateways to outposts in Hell and the Plane of Shadow. Iron and silver runes crafted with the reluctant help of Atrum ensure control and surveillance. From these gateways, Pyrebind slavers launch their raids across the planes, returning with spoils and captives destined for servitude or worse, their successes meticulously recorded in ledgers bound in skin and inked in blood.The Grand Arcanum
The Grand Arcanum is where debates, public addresses, magical duels, and official ceremonies unfold, alongside the darker spectacles of public punishments and the auctioning of enslaved Outsiders and mindless undead, making it the pulsing heart of Cruxis’s vibrant life. It is a vast, open-sky plaza encircled by nine soaring carnelian monoliths, each engraved with the heraldry of the city's ruling bloodlines, their glyphs aglow with an ethereal, ever-changing light. The monoliths cast long, shifting shadows over the plaza, imbued with spells to carry the voices of orators and duelists, and stand as silent guardians and witnesses to the city's most pivotal moments. The plaza is paved with a colorful cobblestone mosaic in an intricate depiction of the city's founding, when Devils, Orcs and outcast sorcerers raised the city's walls and spires from the confluence of infernal and elemental magic. The atmosphere here feels volatile, electric with the lingering tension of momentous events past and yet to come.
The Mageworks
Nobles, adventurers, and scholars alike seek the Mageworks, a magnificent edifice of polished garnet incrusted stone in the city's heart, for unique magical items. Here, the arcane artificers of Isarne and the dreamsmiths of Reveria forge wondrous items and living constructs, their hands weaving magic into metals and elements into sentience. The air crackles with arcane energy, the walls lined with shelves heavy with tools, reagents, commissioned artefacts and riches beyond imagining, each piece a testament to the combined industry and intellect of the two powerful bloodlines. Beneath the workshops lies the Vault, a labyrinth guarded by layers of magical traps and puzzles only the most adept or invited can hope to bypass, its corridors housing the rarest artifacts and accumulated wealth of generations.The Undercrux
In the nether belly of Cruxis, the Undercrux sprawls – a twilight realm carved by Nyx, the Bloodline of Shadows. This catacomb city, laced with echoes of arcane whispers, glimmers with faint, eerie phosphorescence from patches of cultivated lichens. Veins of darkness suffuse the vast labyrinth, inextricably woven with the Shadow Plane itself. The calls of unseen predators reverberate below the murmured negotiations that hang over the Whispering Market, the Silent Court echoes with the auctions of assassins, and the Obsidian Obelisk stands solitary in a remote reservoir, thrumming with old prayers to Vila in an alien dialect that seems to emanate from the shadows themselves. Here, darkness isn't merely absence of light; it is a living, breathing entity, alongside which the Nyxians thrive.
Wisp & Weave Magical Emporium
Gilded runes gleam on the sanguine travertine exterior of Wisp & Weave, reflecting the pulse of Cruxis's magic-illuminated heart. As the engraved, thick oak door creaks open, a kaleidoscope of ethereal lights dance within. Silhouettes flicker amidst a labyrinth of shadowy shelves lined with shimmering spell scrolls and arcane artifacts. The scent of exotic spices and reagents mingles with the tang of potent potions, while the soft hum of unseen energies vibrates from the collection of dozens of enchanted items brought together. A ghostly shopkeeper, indentured to the Arcane Bloodline until the day their dept is repaid, drifts absent-mindedly, arranging curiosities and counting coins that seem to wink in and out of existence.
Tourism
Inns
The Midnight Mantle sits in the shadow of Cruxis' mighty walls, huddled in dark iridescent bricks that drink in the ambient light. Inside, the enchanted ceiling mimics the night sky, casting soft starlight onto the polished dark wood floor. Velvet furnishings decorated with lunar motifs provide secluded corners for conversations and thoughts. Upstairs, comfortable beds await weary travelers. The Innkeeper, Stellios Astralis, an elderly blind Elf, serves drinks with surprising precision and is renowned for his storytelling and uncanny advices. He enjoys nothing more than weaving parables of ancient cosmic lore for his patrons, stories which are often eerily relevent to their recent past or immediate future.
Taverns
The Glowing Goblet occupies the floor of a plump red quartzite tower, a cloak of luminescent starlight ivy draping the structure, making it resemble a foaming, overflowing crimson potion. As patrons step inside, they're dazzled by a sprawling crystal bar and a show of colored lights cascading through stained glass windows, the tavern shimmering like the inside of a giant kaleidoscope. Behind the bar, bottles glow with magic-infused spirits. Fizz Brightbrew, renowned Gnome mixologist and incorrigible gossip, bright eyes twinkling with mischief from beneath his snowy brows, nods towards new arrivals as he whirls around his glowing bar to dispense goblets filled with shimmering drinks.
