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Updated 3 months ago
Rising from the mist-wreathed deltas where river meets sea south of the mountain stronghold of Stalwart, Telmeroon is a city unlike any other. Built upon layers of silt, acacia wood stilts, and half-sunken stone, it is as much a maze of boardwalks and hanging bridges as it is a city of towers and tide-gates. It is a place of masks, bargains, and slow decay—where even the wealthiest homes creak with damp secrets.
The Bog-Layered City
Telmeroon is divided vertically into three districts—known not by wards or boroughs, but by layers of mud, moss, and money.
The Rule of the Sires
Telmeroon is not ruled by kings or councils, but by an ancient alliance of noble bloodlines known as the Sires. Each Sire represents an old family, and together they form the Tide Table—a council whose decisions shape trade, law, and military power. Their bloodlines are considered “salt-bound”—entitled to rule as long as their family has remained above the floodwaters. It is rare for those from the Lower Bog to ever hold such a seat.
Tensions between upper and lower classes are at a boiling point. Food prices rise, dikes are left unrepaired, and the Sires seem more interested in wine tariffs than rising floodwaters. Murmurs of sabotage, strikes, and secession simmer like the bog mists.
The Upper Bog calls it unrest. The Lower Bog calls it awakening.
The Bronze Tide
At the heart of Telmeroon’s military and moral identity is the Bronze Tide—an ancient order of knight-patriots who patrol the canals, guard the Tide Table, and enforce the city’s laws. Founded centuries ago during the War of Drowned Crowns, the Bronze Tide once stood for honor, protection, and balance between the classes.
But in recent decades, their image has tarnished. Many knights now answer to individual Sires rather than the Code. Some act as glorified bodyguards for noble estates. Others use their arms to break worker strikes or silence dissidents.
Yet, not all is lost. Within the order, whispers grow of a return to the old Code—of restoring honor, of casting aside rotten commands and defending Telmeroon, not just its masters. Young idealists, disgraced veterans, and exiles alike search for meaning within the bronze once more.
The Soul of the Bog
To live in Telmeroon is to be wet, watchful, and wary. Deals are made aboard gondolas and misty basements. Ghost stories cling to every post. Wine flows like blood, and blood flows too easily. But beneath the fog, Telmeroon endures.
Its towers may lean. Its docks may sink. But its people—the mud-caked poets, mask-wearing knights, and salt-plum-scarred rebels—carry a strength as old as the tides.