There are two human cities in the Scarred Wasteland- Carbuncle, the stationary capital occupying the southwest stretch of the Rotrock Rim, and Val Fel, the wandering city- an enormous convoy of tents and caravans that crosses the Plaguelands by a meandering route, taking several years to circuit completely. The second is not officially recognized as a city, despite having petitioned the capital for official recognition for centuries. Jealous and embittered, the people of Val Fel claim that the citizens of Carbuncle reject the Coda, the supposed religious teachings of the Plaguebringer. There is tense rivalry between the two cities. Now that the heir to the throne of Val Fel has been discovered to be Dragonkin, the people of the caravan city believe that the Gods themselves are with them. Both sides now wait with unease for the princess of Val Fel to complete her final trial as heir: to be considered worthy of the throne, she must herself slay a dragon.

Val Fel is less like a city and more like a churning sea of tents and caravans, trailed after at all times by swarms of exotic livestock. As a nomadic society, the Fel rely on their herds for everything from sustenance to crafting materials. Hardy cockatrices, trunkers, and chargers- the latter of which also find use as mounts- are a staple of the Fel diet, but the true secret to their success is in their ability to cook and stomach the strange, matted fleshy substance that grows invasively throughout the Plaguelands, used both as cattle-feed and for human consumption. Wood and other plant materials are considered luxuries, with wooden wheels and caravan-frames often being passed down for generations. Lacking in coal and the firewood to make it, metallurgy is practically unheard of. Ovens fueled by dung fires attend to the energy needs of cooking and pottery, while bone is expertly carved into weapons, tools, and tent shafts. The city's primary exports are in livestock, leather, and other animal byproducts- notably including beautiful scrimshaws. They are also, perhaps surprisingly, known for their medicine, though they rarely trade their products with outsiders. Grain from the Centaur clans and wood from the other parts of the world are heavily imported.

Death is a simple matter in Val Fel. If one is lucky, a funeral may consist of a prayer and a sprig of dried flowers. Cremation is a luxury reserved for the rich; the common man or woman is simply left by the side of the road, to be consumed by the carrion-pickers and by the creeping, fleshy tendrils ubiquitous to the Plaguelands.

Speaking of the rich, in Val Fel the nobility comprise a number of Great Houses, constantly vying for dominance and thus the right for their children to inherit the title of Suzerain- the king or queen of Val Fel. House Cruorax, whose wealth stems from their vast charger herds, currently enjoys dominance. It is headed by the Lady Magliev, widow of General Agadei. Palaces in Val Fel consist of Grand Pavilions- vast two-storey tents supported by wood and wicker frames, drawn on great drays by teams of hydra scorpions. (Think Shinto-style building but instead of clay tiles and stone the whole thing is just leather stretched over bone.) Though not much bigger than the average American home, in Val Fel they are considered the height of opulence.

The Coda is not a set of commandments. Rather, it is a series of proverbs written in ancient Dragontongue, supposedly dictated by the Plaguebringer herself- a sort of spiritual guide for her subjects. It is followed by both humans and dragons alike, though of course not all practice or even know of it. It is the chief religion practiced in Val Fel, and has fallen somewhat out of favor in Carbuncle. Full versions of the Coda often contain hundreds of maxims, however, only the first seven are broadly known- the rest vary from version to version, and are largely considered apocryphal.
The parts italicized below are rarely quoted in common parlance, although they are often recited in prayer. A common greeting between followers of the Coda is an exchange of the first two maxims, like so:

Person A: "All things are temporary."
Person B: "All things are one."

((Yup, shamelessly borrowed from GoT's "Valar Morghulis/Valar Dohaeris". XD))


1. All things are temporary. Count not your chattels in wealth or beauty, for these things are fleeting. Take comfort in the impermanence of pain and terror as you prepare against the fickleness of safety and relief, for change is the way of the world.

2. All things are one. Shrink not from decay, for your life has been borrowed from that which perished to nourish you. As you take from the earth, so too shall you return to it.

3. To survive is paramount. All life must ensure its own survival, even at the expense of others. Hate not the jackal for its hunger, nor the fowl for its swift escape, for you too are hunter, and you too can be prey.

4. To die is a greater disgrace than to flee.

5. A full belly dulls the wits and slows the body as surely as an empty one.

6. The wise build their lairs next to wealthier neighbors.

7. To live is to struggle. To struggle is to live.* Kill not the wretched out of pity, for their struggle is as worthy as any.

*Occasionally quoted as "To live is to suffer, to suffer is to live." It is rumored that this altered version is exchanged as a greeting (or, perhaps, an oath) between members of Val Fel's infamous guild of assassins. Further, with the elevation of suffering that this maxim engenders, it follows that a grave wound, infection, or chronic illness is indeed considered fashionable amidst certain highborn eccentrics of Fel society. There are those that consider facial disfigurement from a sickness conquered to be the height of beauty.