The Sprigs

The Sprigs

Perched above the rest of Odrun Fell like a crown of silk and gold, @The Sprigs are where the city’s coin sleeps. Manors rise behind walled gardens, their colonnades wrapped in flowering vines imported from lands far beyond the Shroud. Wealth here is measured not in coin alone, but in influence—an invitation to a private auction, a rare insect bred for venom or beauty, a favor owed by a guildmaster.
Life in the Sprigs moves at a measured pace. Servants glide along marble walkways, armored guards stand motionless under gilt canopies, and every conversation is a move on an unseen board. To outsiders, it is a world of elegance; to those within, it is a theater of power, where every kindness has its cost.

The Gilded Mothlight Amphitheater

In the heart of the Sprigs, the @Gilded Mothlight Amphitheater glows like a lantern in the dark—pulling in the curious, the gullible, and the powerful. Its sweeping amphitheater is a conjurer’s dream, the very walls inlaid with runic threads that bend light and sound at a whisper’s command. On one night, Odrun’s final stand is played out with amber-suspended actors swirling above the stage; on another, a fabricated “victory” of the guilds will be immortalized in a pageant that never happened. Dancers step cloaked in swarm-light, actors shed their own faces for the ones their roles demand, and entire trials have been decided here—by applause, not verdict. Nobles rent the Mothlight for coronations, treaties, or private spectacles meant to sway hearts before a single vote is cast.

The Varlas Conservatory

A glass-vaulted jungle where air hangs thick with the scent of nectar and venom, the @Varlas Conservatory is @Jezabel Varlas's gilded domain. Here, rows of rare-bred arthropods shimmer and click behind wards of silk and spell, each one cultivated for beauty, potency, or profit. Spiders weave emotion-reactive silk that shifts hue with a sigh; mantises drip toxins that could bankrupt kingdoms; scarabs bear armor that even the Ashcoats envy. In secluded viewing lounges, the wealthy bid in whispers for breeding rights or rare specimens, each exchange wrapped in enchantment to keep it buried. Here, politics breed as quickly as the insects—sometimes with sharper bites.

The Velvet Cleft

Buried beneath an unassuming tower lies @The Velvet Cleft, a den where coin buys secrecy as much as pleasure. Low-lit and draped in silks the color of old wine, it draws the Promissory elite for performances too daring—or too dangerous—for public eyes. The stage here has birthed scandalous operas, coded satires, and experimental illusions that skirt the line between genius and treason. Side rooms host private liaisons, backroom bargains, and whispered threats behind locked doors. The guards remain outside, but their employers record every comings and going, keeping a ledger as sharp as any blade.

The Platinum Carapace

@The Platinum Carapace is a cathedral to excess, its auction halls each themed to their spoils: silk-draped arachnid chambers, scaled vaults gleaming with hydra hide, predator dens adorned with fangs and claws. Here, relics of hunts, rare armor sets, lethal potions, and even living creatures are paraded before a crowd of jewel-gowned bidders. Every item has a story—half true, half for the bidding war—and each story drives the price higher. Sealed viewing rooms hold the most dangerous stock, where only the boldest patrons watch live specimens strain against glass and magic, deciding whether to buy a prize… or a problem.

The Chrysellate Atelier

Part boutique, part laboratory, part gallery of living beauty—the @Chrysellate Atelier crafts adornments that breathe, twitch, and grow. Vivomorph pieces are bonded to their owners through rites of blood, breath, or dream, and no two ever grow the same. A heartbracelet might pulse in rhythm with the wearer’s temper, a brooch’s antennae might quiver at lies, a necklace might molt into colors unseen at its first purchase. Nobles compete to commission the rarest, strangest pieces—some sending hunters into the Handle for creatures worthy of their design. In the Atelier, wealth alone is not enough; here, only uniqueness is currency.

The Gilt Thorns

@The Gilt Thorns is where @The Sprigs’ polite violence is trained, perfected, and put on display. Behind manicured hedges and polished gates, nobles rehearse the art of winning without killing—though the line is perilously thin. Duels here are as much about performance as precision: the flick of a wrist, the pause for an audience’s gasp, the perfect, bruising humiliation. Lessons cover not only the blade, but the poisons sanctioned by contract, the expressions of victory, the etiquette of vengeance. Every bout is recorded by enchanted floorboards, reviewed by retired masters who serve as scribes and arbiters. The duels may be bloodless, but the reputations shattered here never mend.