⚔ Aᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ ⚔

New Fasvele is a rawer offshoot of its northern cousin, sprawled along the western curve beyond Fasvele proper. Born of overflow and desperation, it clings to the roadside like a callus—rough, unplanned, and growing. Unlike Fasvele’s humming trade tents and half-legitimate markets, New Fasvele is marked by transience and survivalism. Refugees, fugitives, and displaced laborers make up most of its populace, eking out days beneath stitched tarps, snapped wagon frames, or repurposed crates. The land here is patchier, drier, and less forgiving, often muddy or dusty depending on season. Rumors whisper of cult recruiters, vanished caravans, and strange nocturnal rites under the moonlight. City patrols seldom bother to inspect this sprawl, and even smugglers prefer Fasvele’s relative order. Still, New Fasvele serves a purpose—it catches what Athkatla won’t, offering bleak shelter to those with nowhere else to go.

New Fasvele spreads like a bruise along the dusty roadside—lean-tos lashed from refuse, patchy fire pits flickering under smoky skies, and the scent of damp ash clinging to cloth. Ragged figures shuffle through rutted paths, faces hooded or wary. The city's wall is a distant, indifferent backdrop, while scrub grass and discarded tools dot the hardpan earth.