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The Cursed Blue Rose
There is no dry season on Immira's coast. The rainforest comes down to the ocean in a wall of green, dripping and steaming, and the town sits in the gap it has cut for itself between the trees and the salt water. Ore is what Immira is here for. It is worked out of cuttings in the high ground behind the settlement, brought down wet and heavy, and put straight onto ships, because the sea is a better road than anything that can be hacked through rainforest and kept open. Everything the town does is arranged around that short, brutal haul from cutting to waterside, and around the rot and mould that come with a sky which never fully dries.
Immira belongs to the fifth and most recent wave of expansion, and the Immirene still have the manner of settlers rather than heirs. They are Lohanar, and they hold to their people's habit of writing things down and holding parties to them. The town answers to Mareva, and stands with Mareva inside the wider allegiance of Arkenta, a chain of obligation that reaches this coast mainly in the form of shipping schedules and shares of the ore.