Evela: The Northland Jewel of Dondavar
Evela crowns the world of Dondavar, an immense and icy island stretching some 250 miles across. Located at the very pole, it has no true north—only outward directions from its center. Forests, rivers, hills, and mountains stitch together a land of legend, long guarded by elves, dwarves, trolls, and, more recently, humans.
At the center of the map, the land brims with deep evergreen forests. These ancient woods are home to the True Elves—clever, gregarious, and elusive. Their villages blend into nature: high in the branches, along frozen streams, nestled among whispering groves. Farther downward, the land rolls gently into foothills and softer valleys, where the Shoe Elves build close to the ground. Their stone homes and workshops hum with waterwheels, gears, and quiet songs of old labor.
Along the right edge of the island lies Tindon Inlet, a long, glacial fjord where three human settlements have taken root. On the bottom shore of the inlet sits Dromstad, the largest town, perched beside the sea with its bustling harbor and hardy fishing fleets. Across the water on the upper shore, slightly rightward, lies Ainslo, a smaller but thriving town surrounded by farmland and forest edge. About 50 miles inland from Ainslo, on the banks of a secluded lake, is Rostlic—the most remote of the three. Here, civilization gives way to frontier, and quiet introspection thrives where the trees stand tall and undisturbed.
Between Tindon Inlet and an unnamed inlet further down the map, the land broadens into the great Southern Forest—a vast expanse of wild wood and subtle mystery. Bordering its rightward edge rise the Eastern Hills, ancient and weathered, much like Earth’s Appalachian range. These hills cradle hidden paths, rare herbs, and the occasional blink of fox eyes under moonlight.
To the lower left, a massive peninsula juts outward into the sea. It is rugged
and untamed, its spine dominated by the mighty Grey Mountains, a craggy, snow-capped range not unlike the Rocky Mountains. The peaks run for nearly 100 miles, culminating in Mount Kloor, a restless but not highly eruptive volcano on the far left end of the chain. Its smoke spirals into the sky as a reminder of the fire that still sleeps beneath the stone.
Near the upper reaches of the Grey Mountains, to the left of the ridge, lies Dwarfheim, the underground stronghold of the dwarves. Here, stone halls echo with hammers, forges, and tales passed down through carved walls. The dwarves shape tools, weapons, and wonders in secret halls warmed by the heat of the deep earth.
Across the mountain ridge lies a bleaker land known as the Dead Hills. Stark, eroded, and veiled in silence, this region is home to Trollheim, a settlement of the ancient troll clans. These beings, large and slow of speech, live by traditions older than the stars. Their cliffside dwellings and stone-trod paths rarely see visitors—but those who come are remembered for generations.
And in the upper right quarter of the island lie the Londloan Steeps, wind-raked highlands where the great reindeer herds roam free. Sparse trees, hardy grass, and sheer slopes define this territory, where hoofbeats echo and the stars feel just a little closer.
Evela is not a land easily charted. Its inhabitants—elven, dwarven, trollish, and human—live according to different rhythms, often apart, yet all shaped by the same snow-laced winds and deep traditions. It is a realm of wild beauty and patient mystery, forged not only by ice and time, but by all those who call it home.
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