Maravin

The Diggings

Maravin digs. Everything else the city does follows from that — the ore roads worn into the forest floor, the smell of turned earth and cut stone, the constant low noise of hauling that only stops when a shift changes. It sits in the boreal forest of the north with the ocean close enough that the haul from pit to quay is measured in a morning, which is the whole reason the site is worth working. Spruce comes down for props and fuel faster than it grows back, so the cleared belt around the workings widens a little each year.

Practical People

Founded in the third wave of expansion, Maravin belongs to the Glac Dom, and pits, quays and the road between them all fall under it. Its elves are unceremonious, more attached to a productive seam than to any particular street, and a household will shift across the town to be nearer a new working without much fuss about leaving the old one. What comes up is sorted, carted and shipped out, and very little of it stays.