Geographic Overview
@Sadrith Mora sprawls across a cluster of low islets braided by jade-green canals and rimmed with fungal groves. Broad causeways and root-bridges stitch the islands together, while shallow ferries and gondolas work the smaller waterways. Great mushroom towers rise as landmarks above dense, flat-built neighborhoods—beacons for navigation rather than solitary citadels. The city’s heart is civic and commercial; its edges grow quieter and more insular the closer one draws to each school’s domain.
Movement & Chokepoints
Four main causeways funnel traffic into the center, making @The Confluence the city’s natural hub. Narrow warded bridges protect the entries to each quarter; patrols and posted notices keep outlanders to approved routes (chiefly through the @Magister's District ). Side canals and service piers allow @The Mycelium Hands to move goods discreetly between towers.
@The Confluence (Central Hub)
Neutral ground where retainers, traders, and hired hands mingle beneath fungal lanterns. Taverns, stages, scribe-stalls, and civic counters make this the city’s day-to-day engine. Performances and minor duels draw crowds by night; contracts and errands dominate by day. Every quarter touches the Confluence, and news (and gossip) spreads from here first.
@Magister's District (Public Face of the City)
Outsiders arrive here, buy supplies, and conduct sanctioned business. Public institutions—like the @Telvanni Archive (upper stacks), the @The Whisperwell (information nexus run by the Mycelium Hands), and shops such as @Grazeland Provisions —project Telvanni polish while keeping strangers away from true power. The @Mycelium Guard (Arcane Wardens drawn from the Mycelium Hands) keep order with wards, warrants, and quiet efficiency.
@Sorcerer's Quarter (Destructive Arts)
Densely built neighborhoods ringed by elemental test sites and lightning pylons. Public-facing sites include the @Spell Clash Arena , @Stormglass Hall , and the @The Tempest Vaults —an archive of bottled tempests from across Tamriel. Workshops and worker-run foundries echo with crackle and steam; retainers here live by the creed that raw power, mastered, is its own argument.
@Rune-Singer's Quarter (Enchantment & Craft)
A quieter district of ateliers, looms, and recital halls where sigils are sung into stone, steel, and cloth. The @Varlatorium hosts collaborative works no single mage could sustain; the @Soul Repository stores the soul-gems that power enduring enchantments. Streets hum faintly with background resonance; even lamp-posts carry muted glyphwork.
@Warlock's Quarter (Conjuration & Pacts)
Shadowed streets and warded halls where Daedric law is studied and enforced. The @The Pactarium codifies contracts, the Incursion Archive dissects rifts and Dark Anchor remnants, the @The Binding Circles help control powerful daedra, and the @The Oblivion Bar serves as the quarter’s social crucible. Skaafin messengers frequent the lanes as neutral witnesses and go-betweens.
@Vitalist's Quarter (Restoration & Life/Death Manipulation)
Clinical wards below, forbidden research above. The @The Wards of Recovery treat valuable Telvanni with brisk precision; deeper in lie the @The Ossuaries , the @The Revenant Court , and the @Bloodhall Sanctuary , where vitality, spirit, and undeath are studied without sentiment. Streets are orderly, lanternlight pale; the quarter smells faintly of reagents and cold stone.
Citywide Notes for Storytellers
Landmarks: Towers are navigational anchors—describe sightlines (“the blackened Sorcerer spire to your south,” “the rune-lit crown to the east”).
Jurisdiction: The Magister’s District is permissive but watched; other quarters enforce stricter entry by writ, patronage, or purpose.
The Hands: The Mycelium Hands move supplies, copy texts, and carry messages everywhere; they’re the city’s circulatory system and a ready source of rumors.
Tone Gradient: From open and transactional (Magister’s District, Confluence) to specialized and guarded (the quarters), tension rises with proximity to each school’s secrets.
The Sorcerers are the firebrands of Telvanni society, defined by their devotion to raw elemental force. To them, magicka is not a tool but an untamed storm that must be bent through willpower, athletic prowess, and physical strength itself—Sorcerers uniquely empower their spellcasting through the same brawn that drives warriors. They view the body and magicka as inseparable engines of destruction. Their philosophy is that true understanding of magic comes only when one dares to unleash it, testing its destructive limits against rivals and the environment alike. They prize spectacle as much as scholarship, with public duels and lightning-lit experiments serving as proof of mastery. In daily life, Sorcerers often compete in feats of strength as eagerly as in magical contests, dragging their retainers into exhausting drills and demanding displays of endurance. For them, restraint is weakness—power is validated only when it can dominate both physically and magically.
Warlocks treat magicka as law, a binding principle that shapes the relationship between Nirn and Oblivion. Their culture is rooted in conjuration, contracts, and the manipulation of Daedric hierarchies. They see themselves as lawmakers in a cosmic sense: every pact they forge and every Daedra they command is proof of their superiority over chaos. Precision, not passion, is their guiding principle—one misplaced word or misdrawn rune can mean annihilation. In daily life, retainers are treated less as students and more as legal clerks, expected to master the wording of pacts, memorize Daedric names, and spot loopholes faster than their masters. Conversations in Warlock halls resemble court proceedings as much as they do lectures, and a retainer’s reputation can be made or destroyed by a single clause overlooked. Among them, victory is not measured in battles fought, but in bargains won and wills enforced.
The Vitalists embrace magicka as the force that sustains, corrupts, and reshapes life itself. Their philosophy is clinical yet ambitious: every wound healed, every body altered, every spirit bound is another step toward mastery over mortality. They see flesh as mutable clay, souls as fuel, and undeath as a frontier rather than an abomination. To them, sentimentality is dangerous weakness—life is a resource, and preservation is worth only what it contributes to greater ends. In daily life, retainers become both assistants and specimens, expected to record anatomical data, administer experimental cures, or even submit themselves to procedures in the name of research. Vitalists maintain morgue-like laboratories, where a steady stream of cadavers and “volunteers” sustain their grim scholarship. Their culture is steeped in obsession, walking the line between healer, necromancer, and biologist with cold precision.
The Rune-Singers treat magic as music and resonance, a force of rhythm and pattern that can be captured in symbols, sounds, and forms. Their philosophy blends artistry with scholarship: every enchantment is both a practical binding and a work of beauty. They see their craft as enduring where other schools are fleeting—fire burns out, pacts break, but a well-set rune can last generations. Collaboration is central to their culture, with choruses of mages singing sigils into artifacts too complex for a lone enchanter. In daily life, Rune-Singers involve their retainers in chants and choruses, training them to etch runes in unison, much like a choir rehearses for perfect harmony. Even mundane spaces—walls, lamps, fountains—are covered in subtle enchantments, making their quarter hum like a living instrument. In their view, mastery lies not in spectacle or dominance, but in weaving magic so seamlessly into the world that it becomes indistinguishable from it.