Davos. The city of Dogs.
Somewhere in the outskirts sitting between five elements school territory and fire sect land, a city stood tall and old and unpleasant in the specific way that places with long memories tend to be.
The buildings were grand in structure if not in condition. Stone that had been impressive once, now carrying the weight of decades without anyone caring enough to maintain what time was taking apart. The streets smelled like piss and old rain and whatever had been left in corners long enough to become something else entirely. The walls surrounding the city were thick and high, built with the particular intent of keeping whatever was inside, in, rather than keeping anything outside, out.
That detail said most of what needed saying about Davos.
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The central region had strong clans, advanced magic, old nobility with long names and longer histories. But mixed into all of that, sitting in the gaps between the powerful things, was filth.
