Tiny Town is a compact, highly regulated district of Raverie where the majority of the city’s elven population resides. It occupies a relatively small physical footprint, yet operates with a degree of autonomy unmatched by any other district.
While officially part of Raverie, Tiny Town functions as a semi-independent enclave. Its laws, architecture, infrastructure, and social customs are designed specifically for elven inhabitants. Humans are legally permitted to enter, but in practice rarely do — not because they are forbidden, but because the district is not built for them.
To outsiders, Tiny Town appears orderly, quiet, and slightly alien. To elves, it is simply correct.
Tiny Town is immediately recognizable by its scale and uniformity.
Buildings are small, compact, and proportioned for elven bodies. Doorways, staircases, and interior spaces are intentionally narrow. Humans can walk the streets, but cannot comfortably enter most homes or facilities.
Despite this, the district is richly decorated. Houses follow a limited set of approved designs, but within those boundaries, decoration is abundant. Facades feature repeating motifs, engraved panels, colored inlays, and mechanical ornamentation. Every decoration serves a symbolic or historical purpose, and all are arranged according to strict aesthetic guidelines.
No building stands out — yet none are plain.
Rooftops often include helicopter landing pads or retractable hangars. These are integrated seamlessly into the architecture, opening and closing with precise timing to accommodate elven pilots returning from duty.
The visual effect is one of deliberate beauty: complex, repetitive, and meticulously maintained.
Contrary to outside assumptions, Tiny Town is not socially cold.
Elves maintain a strong sense of community within the district. Communal spaces are common, well-used, and carefully scheduled. Markets, meeting halls, training rooms, and shared gardens exist for collective use, but all activity follows predefined norms.
Social interaction is structured rather than spontaneous. Gatherings have purposes. Conversations have timeframes. Relationships are stable, long-term, and quietly reinforced through shared responsibility rather than emotional display.
Other races are rarely included in this social fabric. This is not hostility, but compatibility. Tiny Town is designed around elven rhythms, expectations, and standards, and few outsiders fit them.
The district is exceptionally clean and orderly, even by elven standards.
Strict regulations govern waste, noise, repair, and appearance. These rules are not experienced as oppressive by elves; they are understood as the foundation of a functional environment.
There is no visible decay. Wear is addressed before it becomes noticeable. Irregularities are corrected quickly and without comment.
This level of upkeep reinforces a shared expectation: if something is wrong, it is because someone failed to prevent it.
Tiny Town operates under elven jurisdiction.
Elven law applies within the district and differs significantly from human legal frameworks. The focus is not on intent, but on negligence, inefficiency, and preventable error. Causing disorder through carelessness is treated more seriously than deliberate but contained wrongdoing.
Rules are strict, and enforcement is consistent.
Human authorities, including the Clockguard, defer to elven enforcement within the district. Internal arbitration councils resolve disputes, favoring corrective action over punishment. Accountability often extends beyond the individual to their household or work unit.
This legal separation is tolerated by the rest of Raverie because the elves’ role in maintaining critical infrastructure makes friction undesirable.
Tiny Town maintains much of its own infrastructure.
Power routing, maintenance systems, and internal logistics are partially independent from the rest of the city. Specialized automatons, scaled and programmed specifically for elven environments, perform routine upkeep.
The district contains its own markets and distribution systems. Goods are allocated through regulated channels rather than open trade, minimizing unpredictability.
In emergencies, elven response systems activate internally before requesting outside assistance. This autonomy is both a point of pride and a source of quiet tension with city authorities.
Humans are uncommon in Tiny Town. When present, they are usually there on official business. The district’s scale and customs subtly discourage prolonged visits.
Ginger-Crust individuals are occasionally present. Their size and temperament make them more compatible with the district’s design, and they are generally welcomed as guests.
Automatons function poorly here unless specifically adapted. Many standard models struggle with the tight spaces and precise timing required.
Gremlins are notably absent. The district’s cleanliness, monitoring, and structural integrity make it inhospitable to them — or so it is believed.
Despite its perfection, Tiny Town is not without cracks.
Its separation from the rest of Raverie fosters resentment among some humans, who view it as elitist or inaccessible. Elves, for their part, see the separation as practical and necessary, not political.
Occasionally, incidents occur that challenge this belief. Jurisdictional disputes arise when crimes involve non-elves. Rare internal failures raise uncomfortable questions about whether elven systems are truly infallible.
Most unsettling of all are recent rumors of elves going missing — not on the surface, but from their routines. Whispers suggest gremlins may be responsible, abducting elves through hidden access points connected to the Undercity.
If true, it would represent a violation not just of safety, but of the district’s core assumption: that order, once perfected, is unassailable.