Akvero Setting Notes
![[Image: akvero.png]](https://alonimi.net/misc/images/graphics/akvero.png)
Akvero is a city of water. Built on a peninsula run through with rivers, it sits in a sea that opens to the ocean, central to the western continent. Its position makes the city-state central to trade throughout both the mainland and across the oceans. Canals take the place of many of the roads, traveled by boat rather than by horse, with slender walkways paved in cobblestone.
Everyone comes to Akvero. It is a human city, but not by much. Dwarves, elves, halflings, even folk far stranger call this place home. Many pass through, but some cannot help but stay, drawn to the culture or the people or both.
Akvero is a city of masks. The summer and winter solstices are celebrated with festivals, each lasting a week. True decadence requiring anonymity, the masks are a vital part of the celebration; free from the confines of their everyday lives, masked revelers take great pride in the artistry of their masks. Glamoured, enchanted, carved, painted, these masks make powerful talismans. Entire schools of magic have been born around these masks, and certain cults have taken to wearing them at all times.
It is considered the height of rudeness, downright taboo, to make known who the person is behind their mask. It may be obvious that a dwarf is a dwarf, but it's polite to pretend not to notice.
No modern city could avoid having magic, and Akvero is no different. Enchanted weaponry or other forms of fighting magic are forbidden within the city walls, though this law is loosely enforced. Make no trouble, and it's unlikely anyone will mind. The streetlamps glow with the ethereal light of luminescent crystals encased in glass, and all the best tailors stitch glamour into their clothes. Watermills power alchemical reactions, and printing presses are bewitched to hide subversive messages.
Akvero is a republic, but elections take place only once a decade. Corruption is rampant, but it is not oppressive; if anything, it is a trifle too permissive. Cause no trouble for the wealthy, and the authorities are unlikely to notice.
Everyone comes to Akvero. It is a human city, but not by much. Dwarves, elves, halflings, even folk far stranger call this place home. Many pass through, but some cannot help but stay, drawn to the culture or the people or both.
Akvero is a city of masks. The summer and winter solstices are celebrated with festivals, each lasting a week. True decadence requiring anonymity, the masks are a vital part of the celebration; free from the confines of their everyday lives, masked revelers take great pride in the artistry of their masks. Glamoured, enchanted, carved, painted, these masks make powerful talismans. Entire schools of magic have been born around these masks, and certain cults have taken to wearing them at all times.
It is considered the height of rudeness, downright taboo, to make known who the person is behind their mask. It may be obvious that a dwarf is a dwarf, but it's polite to pretend not to notice.
No modern city could avoid having magic, and Akvero is no different. Enchanted weaponry or other forms of fighting magic are forbidden within the city walls, though this law is loosely enforced. Make no trouble, and it's unlikely anyone will mind. The streetlamps glow with the ethereal light of luminescent crystals encased in glass, and all the best tailors stitch glamour into their clothes. Watermills power alchemical reactions, and printing presses are bewitched to hide subversive messages.
Akvero is a republic, but elections take place only once a decade. Corruption is rampant, but it is not oppressive; if anything, it is a trifle too permissive. Cause no trouble for the wealthy, and the authorities are unlikely to notice.
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