Dragsmund

If it was possible to complete a census of Dragsmund, without getting mugged and thrown in the river, it would reveal that the wooden city is the largest ever to have existed on the continent of Nostvary , but since no one is foolish enough to try, they'll never know for sure.

The city sprawls along the eastern coast of The Lake of Masran and in some places, with the aid of timbers sunk in the mud, into it. It's a vast metropolis full of people drawn from all over Nostvary, where a trip down any street will yield experiences of different cultures. The population is mostly human, but a sizeable population of Dwarves and Marsh Elves calls the city home; few high elves are willing to brave the unsanitary conditions preferring to stay outside the walls until they are able to leave but their loss is another's gain for it is said that once you get the stink of Dragsmund in your nostrils, you can never get rid of it. The city seeps into the pores of those that live there, altering their very being until, even if they leave, they take it with them.

Dragsmund is a way of life, one that will try to kill you with every breath, but for those with a robust constitution, and a handy knife, it will be the only life they'll ever want.