Legend has it a beleaguered traveler once stood at this tower’s gates. He begged shelter for the night, claiming he’d been injured, but the baron living inside was afraid the traveler was a spy and sent him away. Little did he know the traveler was a powerful mage, who cast a curse on the tower, its inhospitable owner and all who dwelled with him. Soon thereafter the baron and all his retinue died in mysterious circumstances, and the tower fell into ruin.
A few years ago, a group of armed men marched into this settlement. They butchered its inhabitants and burned down their homes. Not a soul has dwelt here since that black and bloody day.
Until recently, this was a thoroughly unremarkable village. Then the Vegelbuds began organizing their famous horse races here, granting Alness the enviable honor of hosting the region’s most prestigious equestrian contests.
Every man, be he tippler or teetotaler, knows Toussaint’s economy stems from the fruit of the vine. Few, however, realize the duchy’s lands are rich with deposits of slate and other valuable building materials, and that the quarrying of such was once the bedrock of local livelihoods. Thus when gods-fearing Toussaintois saw fit to build a statue of the saintly Lebioda, they had no need to send for materials from abroad – instead, they merely reactivated Ardaiso.
Novigrad has always attracted those in search of a better life. Some of them found no welcome within the city walls, and so built huts outside the city.
A village whose calm is only occasionally disturbed by someone slapping another senseless or one comrade breaking a bottle of mead over his mate’s head.
In its glory days, this castle buzzed with life as the hub of the Romilly family’s activities. Today it is merely a dangerous ruin in the heart of a cursed wood.
The experimental attempts to manage the waters of the Sansretour Marsh carried out by Duke Adam of Nazair did not prove very successful – to put it lightly. They flooded a great number of villages, private estates and even Arthach, an elven summer palace. These experiments were what gave the Sansretour Marsh its current shape and put half of Crane Isle permanently underwater. They also created an unpleasant bog to the north of the city where none can tread in true safety.
Contrary to appearances, Toussaint does not live and die by the wine trade alone. It also exports valuable building materials and a great quantity of wool. The clover-rich slopes of Mont Crane provide sustenance to a broad variety of sheep, including the famed Toussaint merinos, whose fleece fetches mind-boggling sums. Basane is one of the estates specializing in the breeding and pasturing of these remarkable beasts.
Three generations ago this bay was a popular meeting spot for the local youth. Then one night a terrible storm broke out and the sea pounded into the beach, swallowing up several merry-makers and dragging them out to a watery grave.
One of the best-preserved artifacts of the elven era, the Beauclair Palace was painstakingly restored and partially rebuilt by the famed Nilfgaardian architect Faramond. Master Faramond, a scholar and expert on nonhuman architecture, is considered the founder of the Neoelven School, of which the Beauclair Palace, home to the rulers of Toussaint, is the most characteristic example.
This vineyard’s former owner racked up significant debts with a loan shark, who then sold them to bandits for collection. When they found he had no coin to collect, they murdered him alongside all other residents of his estate. As if that were not heinous enough, they then made the vineyard their base, from which they would hijack transports of wine to fuel their drunken orgies. So fierce and well-stocked were they, none could chase them off - until one brave alchemist spiced a transport crossing their territory with a powerful extract of ricin.
This small village owes its name to its founding elder, who erected the largest windmill the land had ever seen on this spot - thereby providing work for all the village’s inhabitants.
This village takes its name from the unwanted limbs loggers used to bring here to burn, leaving stacks of charred logs behind. The locals, however, prefer the old legend which holds that their village was founded by a prominent member of an ancient race of tree people.
Though nothing about this small domicile is particularly eye-catching, a family of the best shipwrights in Velen has lived here for generations, crafting the finest skiffs and dinghies north of the Yaruga.
Bowdon was founded by writ of King Heribert the Quarrelsome. Unfortunately, the king was roaring drunk when they asked him to indicate on the map where to build the new settlement and slammed his finger down in the middle of a swamp. Those forced to settle there soon abandoned the unpleasant bog. Their empty dwellings became shelter for vagabonds and bandits.
Boxholm was once a thriving village serving the nearby fortress, Kaer Nyssen. Today nothing remains of this past glory but a pile of stones, some debris and fading memories.
This picturesque little village’s beauty makes it a frequent subject of works by bards and poets. The best-known piece whose action is set in Brunwich is “The Betrothing,” a farce penned by Stanislas Islas. The reputation thus gained has made it a popular destination for bohemians from Oxenfurt, who escape here during the hottest months to pass the time with contests for the most beautiful feathered cap and hunts for a golden horn held at night in the nearby woods.
Bridge named in honor of a woman who went mad from unfulfilled love. After her heart snapped, she spent all her days running up and down this bridge while laughing hysterically.
A village named after a baker whose exquisite goods gained him fame, as well as the privilege of supplying bread to the table of the hierarch of the Church of the Eternal Fire in Novigrad. Following his death, none proved capable of recreating his recipes for his delicious and deeply aromatic breads, so these days Carsten is known chiefly for its trade in grain and flour.
Connoisseurs claim the best wines of Metinna or Alba do not hold a candle to even the most mediocre labels from the Sansretour Valley. Among the countless larger and smaller local vineyards found here, Castel Ravello is the most renowned – and for good reason. From its slopes come Pomino, Fiorano, Erveluce and Est Est – the wine realm’s uncontested kings.
Maximus Macrinus was once a knight errant famed for showing no mercy to any bandits prowling the Champs-Désolés. After a long and storied career, he hung up his sword at his ancestral manor and settled in for a well-deserved retirement. No one knows what brought about the subsequent murder of his entire family. Some claim a giant descended from the mountains, others, that he ran afoul of one of the larger hanses. The only undisputed fact is that everyone with any sense now avoids going anywhere near Casteldaccia.
After Vserad, its previous owner, panicked at the news that armies were approaching and fled to Fyke Isle, this castle became home to Phillip Strenger, alias the Bloody Baron, along with his family and entourage.
To listen to the old folks’ jabber, this place was once home to Whispess – a woodland witch eager to help any in need. When Whispess peered into a certain knight’s heart, she saw that it was black and refused him aid. The knight reacted with wrath and burned the witch alive in her cave. Soon afterward, the knight went mad and killed himself – claiming he was tortured by a strange voice whispering in his ear that no one else could hear.
A famous forge where the best tools and weapons in all of Skellige were once made. When the Ice Giant took over the isle, he turned it into his larder.
Every year at Belleteyn, a great feast is held in Claywich accompanied by games, song and dance. On that night villagers from far and wide come to celebrate, with passing travelers welcome as well. Shortly before midnight the youth in attendance race deep into the forest in search of a fern flower, and though no one has as yet found one, many have found their other halves, or at least a night of moonlight passion.
This now-inactive quarry once only employed stonebreakers over thirty years of age who would work hard all day, then spend the evenings racing down the sides of the quarry pit on hand-crafted wagons.
Experts know the secret to Toussaint wine lies not in the vines of its hills but in the oaks of its forests. So desirable are barrels made from this wood, it seemed loggers would cut the duchy clear until protests from angry druids stopped them. After years of negotiations, a compromise was reached and a special organization, the Coopers’ Guild, was created. Thanks to its strict supervision of the industry, logging became sustainable and it became the richest guild in the city – as evinced by the proud gate it funded.
This line’s founder, Stefan de Coronata, once asked a druid to help him be rid of the caterpillars devouring his vines. The druid suggested he raise martens, which love to feed on that insect’s larvae. Stefan duly took the druid’s advice and soon eradicated the plague not only in his own vineyard, but in all the neighboring ones as well. In return for this bounteous deed, he was awarded a noble title. He chose a blue wolf to adorn his crest, after deciding he would look foolish parading about with a marten on his shield.
Constructed on elven ruins, Corvo Bianco – known as Gwyn Cerbin in the Elder Speech - is one of the oldest vineyards in the duchy and producer of a startlingly unique wine, Sepremento. Sadly, the rakish lifestyle of one of its owners, the last member of the Bolius line, drove the possession into ruin. The next owner, Baron Rossell, tried to return the vineyard to its former glory, but to no avail. Corvo Bianco was then auctioned off and eventually passed under the control of the Ducal Treasury.
The de la Croix family never had much luck in business. Their grapevines fell victim to Duke Adam of Nazair’s attempts to regulate the flow of the Sansretour and their olive groves were devoured by a plague of armored scale insects. After this, they restored their old water mill, counting on the production of bread to be their ticket to success. And it nearly was - until they found out the hard way high concentrations of flour in restricted spaces can lead to powerful dust explosions.
After Vserad, its previous owner, panicked at the news that armies were approaching and fled to Fyke Isle, this castle became home to Phillip Strenger, alias the Bloody Baron, along with his family and entourage.
This inn owes its name to its former owner, a swaggering, blustering fellow who wanted to attract those of a similar temperament. Luckily he died of liver poisoning after a few years and ownership passed to a distant relative, who turned the Cunny of the Goose into the best spot for stuffed goose liver in all the region.
When the current owner’s grandfather, the famous dancer Pablo “Sugar” Sasko, ended his career, he settled here and organized nights of dancing for the nearby peasantry. Supposedly these revelries became so fashionable that dung-booted peasants were dancing rounds with members of Novigrad’s most elite families and adventure-seeking urban dandies.
Underneath this fortress lies a musty, rank cave in which a lost traveler will find nothing but a few fattened leeches - if he’s lucky. Nevertheless, village elders insist on repeating the legend that gave the grotto its name: that of a legendary dragonslayer said to be buried somewhere deep inside.
In its glory years, this castle was home to the Redanian Moskovitz of the Sea Cats dynasty, patrons of the arts and admirers of elven culture. After the death by suicide of the dynasty’s last member, Prince Adrien, the castle fell into the hands of the Redanian crown - and then into ruin.
Defensive structure built during the reign of Vizimir the Just, in the 13th century, a time of intense Redanian-Temerian border conflicts. In the relative calm that followed, it fell into disuse, then disrepair.
This once-peaceful fishermen’s settlement now stands almost completely empty. Road-weary travelers sometimes find shelter in its abandoned huts - besides that, not a soul is to be seen.
Lady Dulcinea was a noblewoman at Duchess Caroberta’s court. According to legend, whenever she appeared duels knights would duel for her favor and noblewomen would faint out of jealousy. Yet rather than accepting the advances of one of her gentlemen suitors, Lady Dulcinea, tired of the pomp of the ducal court, agreed to the proposal of a simple miller and abandoned the palace to dwell with him in his mill. Word is, she lived there happily ever after.
This castle is tied to the dark legend of Waltharius the Burly, the dashing knight who wed the beautiful Nazairi princess Hiltgunt. Waltharius then embarked on a lengthy campaign and returned to find his wife in carnal relations with his relative, upon which he flew into a rage and murdered them both. The moral of the tale is held to be that nothing good ever comes from Nazair, and that when one has a young wife, one should stay at home instead of gallivanting about on campaigns.
Dear traveler, you have entered the territory of Dun Tynne, lands belonging to the nobly-born Sir Roderick. If you wish to pay him a visit, walk westward from here and you shall surely happen upon his castle. If, however, you seek a route to the Pittapatte river crossing, you should make your way north.
The slopes of Dun Tynne long lay barren. Potential entrepreneurs were scared off by the bloody legend of Waltharius the Burly and since the area had never produced wines worthy of historical mention anyways, they had little incentive to conquer this fear. The estate’s most recent owner, however - a nobleman named Roderick - decided to plant vines along the slopes stretching from the Blessure and Sansretour valleys up to the keep. As a precaution, he also planted olive groves, a much surer investment.
Square named after a group of Novigrad reformers who enacted bold transformations that led to the city’s rapid growth, enriching its residents considerably and ushering in the city’s golden age.
The former keeper of this lighthouse was a confirmed eccentric. In addition to caring for the lighthouse, he also wrote poetry and wove carpets, was known to strip naked and run laps around the lighthouse at noon while shouting “sound mind in a sound body” and for breakfast would eat nothing but fish tails.
Long before men first peopled these lands, a beautiful, prospering elven city stood here, centered around the palace of King Maeglor. One day, however, the city’s inhabitants began mysteriously dying off in large numbers. According to legend, King Maeglor sensed he, too, would soon perish and cast a powerful spell that caused the earth to swallow the city whole so that no outsider could ever desecrate it. Centuries later, scholars from the Oxenfurt Academy began painstaking excavations of King Maeglor’s palace in a search for the causes of the catastrophe. Yet work came to a sudden halt when three subsequent expeditions ventured into the ruins’ depths - and were never heard from again…
Though his friends advised against building a house in the middle of the woods, Hans refused to listen and did things his way. When the war broke out and laid waste to this region, Hans and his family lived in peace, untouched by the troubles of the wider world - until one fateful night…
Once upon a time, the lord of Epicéa mounted his steed and vowed to complete a full circuit around the castle – riding atop its walls. Sadly, he did not fulfill his oath and instead plummeted to his doom after a few paces. Cunigunde, his beautiful daughter, swore that day she would only marry the man who could finish her father’s deed. Many a stripling lad lost his life attempting to fulfill that comely maid’s cruel condition. When finally one succeeded, he surveyed the carnage she had wrought and decided she was unworthy of his affections. Realizing with despair how despicably she had acted, Cunigunde threw herself from the castle walls, dying smashed against the rocks below like so many of her unfortunate suitors.
Ussar Castle constitutes part of the series of fortifications constructed during the reign of Duke Roger the Reveler. Sadly, it turned out his master builders were as fond of the bottle as he, the result being structural flaws in the building’s foundations. The sloppily-placed stones proved unable to bear the weight of the walls and the castle collapsed. Many years later the ruins were reconstructed into a small fort to house knights protecting the high road, but currently it lies empty and abandoned.
In a small valley at the foot of Mount Gorgon lies the village of Fox Hollow. This village’s fields – inexplicably and miraculously – grow pots. Earthenware vessels spring unbidden from the ground, as if through some magic trick worked by nature, no human intervention required. The pots come in all shapes and sizes, which is why Fox Hollow maintains trade connections with the village of Dudno in Maecht – for that village’s fields, inexplicably and miraculously, grow lids. Of all shapes and sizes.
The Caroberta Woods are named after Toussaint’s reigning duchess’ grandmother – Duchess Carolina Roberta – who loved organizing elaborate games of hide and seek in this forest. A small trappers’ post located on its outskirts has grown into the tranquil village known as Francollarts. Here hunters, woodcutters and beekeepers come to sell the fruit of the woods. The village springs to life once a year, when Baron Trastamara organizes his annual Wood Festival and invites all the court out for a spectacular hunt.
Like many other settlements in the area, this one has suffered greatly on account of the war. Its inhabitants have abandoned their property and evacuated lands in which they once dwelled in relative peace.
Some two hundred and forty years ago, a certain Josen Garin arrived in these lands. A Haaki traveler, writer, brawler and souse, Garin looked around and saw the local meadows in bloom, cool shadows beneath charming glades, and glorious sun-bathed fields. All this inspired him to settle down here for good. His new neighbors treated the arrival with suspicion, yet they changed their minds and warmed to him once he turned a gracious host who would fill their cups once and again with the exquisite wines he had brought with him from his homeland.
This gate is named in honor of Novigrad’s own son, the Hierarch of the Eternal Fire. Supposedly this name was given to it upon popular request, though no one can be found who remembers requesting any such thing.
An oak which is sacred to all Skelligers, as it is worshiped both by druids and Freya’s disciples. The Isle’s most important ceremonies are held here, including weddings and royal coronations.
Old Man Gelenser grew radishes. Yes, radishes. Not grapes, not olives, not even beets. As he himself put it: “Dadgummit, I can’t very well live on bread and wine alone, now can I?!” Old Man Gelenser did not found a radish empire. The history of his line is not filled with amazing legends. He lived, sired children, planted radishes and died. O Lebioda, give us all such a calm and simple life.
In truth simply a normal rock formation shaped by centuries of wind and water, islanders believe Uroboros punished giants who opposed his will by turning them into these stones.
When laying the stones of the defensive walls surrounding Hauteville, the inhabitants of Beauclair had no inkling how much their city would eventually grow. The mushroom-like expansion of San Sebastian and the Port District forced Beauclair’s residents to knock through an additional passageway to facilitate the circulation of traffic between the capital’s districts. Some even called for the walls to be torn down altogether – for what had they to fear, with their town protected by the bravest knights errant the world has ever known?
The inhabitants of this village were relieved when they learned the path of the marching armies had shifted slightly and passed their village bye. Then, one night… they changed their mind.
The village of Heddel was once known first and foremost for the fine lace undergarments produced there. Heddel lingerie aroused such controversy, however, that the Novigrad hierarch personally forbade its production.
Until quite recently a great many mages lived near Novigrad’s main square. They fled when the witch hunters began their reign of terror, leaving many of the city’s most beautiful townhouses abandoned and uncared for.
This watchtower used to protect barges traveling between Oxenfurt and Novigrad. It once even boasted a bridge connecting the two sides of the river, but now it stands abandoned and neglected, its bridge a collapsed ruin.
Toussaint can boast many world-famous vineyards, such as Castel Ravello, Pomerol, Vermentino and Tufo. Their owners take great care to maintain the time-tested traditions and heirloom recipes on which the reputation of the wines they produce rests. But Toussaint is also home to numerous smaller vineyards which do not even possess their own crests and whose wines have yet to win any particular renown, making it difficult to say much about them. Hortense is just such a place.
The House of Respite’s motto: “A soldier does not live on war alone.” This is slightly misleading, however, for the club is not open to all soldiers, only Nilfgaardian officers (or those capable of passing themselves off as such).
The Buckholt Hills have long been famed for the wealth of wild animals dwelling there, which is why the owner of the nearby Sarrasin Grange once had a hunter’s cottage built there, to ensure the daily provision of fresh game.
They say this was once home to an herbalist who came to the Isles from the Continent. Unable to find a place in any of the nearby villages, she settled in this seaside hut, where she received the occasional visitor in need of magic creams or bandages.
Small hut constructed by a famous sculptor who, having garnered every laurel possible for one of his trade, abandoned his Koviri residence and moved here in order to find inspiration in solitude and reflect on what to make of the rest of his life.
Built centuries ago to serve as the home keep for the kings of Skellige. In practice, however, each ruler preferred to keep to his clan’s seat, and Kaer Almhult was left unused. Eventually the decision was made to turn it into a prison, and today the fortress is a crumbling ruin.
It is difficult to believe this abandoned pile of debris in the middle of a forest is the famed Kilkerinn Palace, which, according to legend, once housed the renowned artist Giann’Lorenzo’s workshop. His sculptures now command exorbitant prices at auction, making Kilkerinn a frequent target for plunderers seeking treasure.
Work on the Temple of Lebioda in Beauclair was begun by the prophet’s most famed disciple, Plegmund. He convinced Duchess Caroberta to rebuild that area of the city and dig deep catacombs for the city’s wealthiest inhabitants. Those of less coin were to be buried in the new cemetery beside the temple. The poorest of the poor, however, had to continue to make do with the Orlémurs Cemetery, connected to the city by the Temple Gate, also known as the Gate of Lebioda.
Many years ago a horrible accident took place here: a ship carrying the cousin of King Radovid IV the Bald wrecked against the rocks during a storm. The king ordered a lighthouse erected on that spot in order to warn other seafarers of its deadly danger.
Lucian le Foix, the famous Oxenfurt sculptor and architect, bought this windmill several years ago and made it into his country retreat. Sadly the enormous popularity of the great Lucian’s designs means he spends little time in his fortress of solitude and has entrusted its care to a steward.
Once the Evves family estate was located here and the area bore the name of Lord Evves’ wife, Mortilanca. When the couple died, their will stipulated their land be turned over to their serfs. The grateful peasants then founded a village of freeholders and named it after their first ealdorman, Lurtch, who had previously served as the Evves family’s butler.
Lurthen’s most famous inhabitant was a certain Peter Pijus, known for the fact that he was able to drink an entire barrel of mead in one go and remain standing.
Founded by Lord Martin Feuille, this vast plantation was until not so long ago the largest producer of alfalfa in the region. Sadly, when war broke out the lord fled to his winter residence in Kovir, leaving his land to be administered by an ill-suited steward who squandered his liege’s fertile fields.
At Belgaard Vineyard, a famous act of poisoning once occurred which took the lives of a large gang of bandits who were ransacking the area. The folk charged with cleaning up in the aftermath originally planned to burn the bodies, but one pious soul thought even rotten dung-diddlers such as they deserve better. He thus paid for their bodies to be laid to rest in a small cemetery: Mère-Lachaiselongue. Later, Sir Ramon of Gichon died a martyr’s death here while trying to get rid of the bandits’ constantly returning wraiths.
Toussaint’s mighty rivers are not the only route for getting wine out of the duchy. During the spring run-off, the Sansretour becomes very dangerous to navigate and local exporters turn to transport methods less likely to result in catastrophic loss. These merchants group together into caravans, hire guards and set out with their goods overland. Their favored destination? Metinna, whose capital is likewise named Metinna, leading some Toussaintois to joke their wine is medicine for that kingdom’s fabled lack of imagination.
Typical farming settlement which the worst of the fighting has left untouched - but which famine now grips all the same. One of the larger villages in this region.
Despite its ideal location and beautiful surroundings, this residence has been tossed from owner to owner like a hot potato, and for some unknown reason suffers from a bad reputation.
Duke Roger the Reveler was, as his nickname might suggest, no teetotaler. The story of his alcohol-fueled romps number today among the most cherished of traditional Toussaint tales. This state of perpetual tipsiness might just be what drove his decision to surround the duchy with a series of castles, meant to protect Toussaint from the barbarous highlanders of Mount Gorgon. Thing is, no one has ever heard of such a folk.
One of the oldest villages in the region. Owes its name to a certain undereducated botanist who could not discern one kind of tree from another and so called them all mulberries.
The ruins of an old watchtower in which, according to legend, a crazed Koviri princess once locked herself up, convinced only a man able to free her from this tower would be fit to be her husband. No one even tried, however, the princess died of old age and the tower fell into disrepair with the passage of time.
Legends claim that a beautiful nymph named Olena once lived in this grove. She fell in love with a young hunter and the man swore to be true to the nymph, but later betrayed her. She decided to punish him by casting a spell on his spirit, which wanders the grove to this day.
Village founded by Count Primislavus don Stessa, distant cousin to King Foltest of Temeria. The count was known for his passion for racing chariots down winding forest paths and narrow country roads. This spectacle delighted onlookers, won the hearts of highborn ladies and aroused hatred in his rivals.
In the times when Novigrad and Oxenfurt were embroiled in fierce neighborly disputes, this gate went through several completely different names, the Gate of Harlots and the Gate of Bloodsuckers being two of the longer lived examples. Its current name was chosen when this conflict was finally put to rest.
The fabulous gardens on the shores of Seidhe Llygad were, like Beauclair Palace, nearly destroyed during the Elven Conflicts. Master Faramond, who led the renovation efforts, did what he could, but some of the more delicate plants could not be saved. Today this popular recreation spot for courtiers is filled mainly with spruces, olive trees, Beauclair oaks, rose bushes, juniper thickets, rhododendrons and, of course, grapevines.
Built during the reign of Duchess Caroberta, this bridge was meant to facilitate traffic between vineyards on opposite banks of the Sansretour. It was named after a pilgrim quite popular in Toussaint at the time, a certain disciple of the Prophet Lebioda who on this very spot performed one of his many miracles: traversing the river without getting his feet wet.
Fifteen years ago, one of the fishermen of Rannvaig bagged an enormous halibut, and from that moment on all the other villagers have devoted their lives to beating his record.
A band of soldiers attacked this village early one morning. They slaughtered most of the villagers in their beds, and the lucky few who fled to the woods in time had nothing left to return to.
The members of this small community have erected a large, winged statue - evidence of people turning to old gods and ancient cults in this time of war and famine.
The second most popularly cultivated plant in Toussaint – the first being the grapevine, of course – is the olive tree. It is mainly grown for its olives, which are pressed for their oil, but is also prized among woodcarvers. The unquestionably most cherished tree in the region, however, is the Beauclair oak, which is used in the making of wine barrels. And the most important place in Toussaint for the processing of this tree is the Rioux-Cannes woodcutters’ outpost.
Five centuries ago King Geddes sent his most loyal knight, Martin of Oakdale, to watch over the inhabitants of this troubled land. He also sent his least-loyal knight, to scrub Martin’s latrines.
The city of Beauclair quickly grew to fill all the space within its walls and spill out beyond it. This gave rise to the Lower Town, also known by the name of its founder – San Sebastian. Currently the district is primarily home to laborers and their workshops and links Hauteville with the port – the center of trade for Beauclair and the entire duchy.
The Sansretour Valley is the center of world wine production. It is on this valley’s vine-covered slopes that one can find Castel Ravello, Coronata and Vermentino – the estates of famous winemaking families which have for centuries been the envy of every other vintner.
Lord Antares Sarrasin moved his wife and smattering of comely daughters here from far-off Nazair on his medic’s recommendations. The leech proclaimed with absolute certainty that “if you wish to sire a son, it must be in the Gustfields.” While waiting to produce a male heir, the Sarrasins took to wine cultivation and soon their grange became renowned from Nazair to Skellige.
On the banks of the lake known as Seidhe Llygad, or Eye of the Mountain, lies an ancient amphitheater - another relict of Toussaint’s elven past. In 1178 the structure was restored so it could stage the works of Beauclair’s most renowned theatrical virtuosos. Unfortunately, its grand opening was marred by an unplanned tragic ending: the mysterious death of the play’s leading lady. Ever since, the place has been deemed cursed and few dare venture anywhere near it.
In truth demarcating the eastern and not southern edge of the city, the Southern Gate was given its inappropriate name by a one-time city planner who knew nothing about architecture and could not read a map, but had in his favor the fact that he was the mayor’s cousin and threw lavish parties. Though confusingly incorrect, the name stuck and now the city’s residents never think twice about its illogical appellation.
Bridge named after the hero of Novigrad who saved the city from a horrible famine three hundred years ago by sacrificing half his fortune to import food from Nazair. After this, he was declared a saint, something even the jurors of the Church of the Eternal Fire were unable to change.
Over twenty years ago a certain Bartolomeo, known as “Badger” on account of certain characteristic aspects of his coiffure, discovered a rich deposit of high-quality stone on this spot. He bought the land for a song, then leased it back to local peasants before heading off to Kovir, where he lives the life of a rich and powerful townsman to this day.
Though the Nilfgaardians thought Temeria died along with King Foltest, Temerian guerillas still hide in the woods, prepared to give their lives at a moment’s notice in their fight for independence.
Toussaint was once a land of elves. The ducal palace is the most prominent remnant of that era, but it is not the only. The Aen Seidhe left behind a great many smaller and larger structures whose function can today only be guessed at. An example of this are the Termes Palace ruins, which some tie to the legendary resting place of the last elven king, while others consider them a temple to some forgotten deity. What they were in truth, we shall never know.
It is widely accepted that vampires came into our world during the Conjunction of the Spheres. They quickly spread across all the Continent, trying to adapt to their new situation. According to legend, one of them, Khagmar, settled in Toussaint. Grim tales are whispered about his deeds, but whether he truly even existed is hard to say. The tales do agree on one thing, however: Khagmar’s story is inextricably tied to the mysterious fortress known as Tesham Mutna.
There was a time when the Cockatrice’s owner, Adam de Guy, loved to recount the tale of how the inn got its name. In his youth, his story went, he served as squire to a knight errant and together they defeated a bloodthirsty cockatrice. The beast’s head decorated the auberge’s entrance for many years until a certain traveler from Oxenfurt ascertained it was unfortunately but a rather amateurish hobbling together of pheasant, weasel and pig parts. His pride wounded, de Guy took down his trophy, but the inn kept its name.
Toussaint’s largest marketplace overflows with colorful stalls and merchants from every corner of the world. They say if you cannot find what you seek at Beauclair’s market, it doesn’t exist. In addition to wine of every label and vintage, here one can buy slate from Ardaiso, fleece from Toussaint merinos raised at Basane or olive oil from the groves of Dun Tynne.
When folk query this inn’s Nilfgaardian owner, a certain Calixte Moire, whence came the establishment’s name, the man always refers them to the Second Battle of Sodden. His Father, Antoine, showed particular courage during this battle, as evidenced by the Medal of the Silver Salamander which was awarded to him by the emperor himself in honor of his valor and dedication on the field of battle.
Village founded by King Griffin of Temeria, the husband of Clarissa of Toussaint. The king had planned to turn Toderas into a large, bustling university city, a sort of Temerian alternative to Oxenfurt, but, as any visitor can quickly attest, his efforts failed utterly.
Tradition is sacred in Toussaint. This fair duchy has a great many traditions, perhaps the most hallowed of which are the spectacular knightly tourneys held during nearly every important local festival. These events have earned fame and respect not only in all of Nilfgaard, but in the North as well. Thus knights journey from almost literally the entire world to enter the lists and gain glory testing their mettle against each other and the best of Toussaint chivarly.
It is hard to believe Toussaint, now so vibrant and full of life, once fell victim to a leprosy epidemic. To isolate the infected from the healthy, by ducal decree a leper colony was created on Crane Island. When all the colony’s inhabitants died, the complex gradually fell into ruin and the decision was made to adapt it into a prison, which it remains to this day.
Every self-respecting merchant does some business in the capital of Toussaint – going to hear the latest gossip from the famed Belles of Beauclair in San Sebastian, or strolling down to the Port to see if the docksmen have “lost” a barrel or two. But truly important business is conducted not in the city, but at this modest merchant’s camp, an outpost far from the wine- and song-laden atmosphere of Beauclair’s eternal celebrations.
Amadis de Trastamara obtained this property from Duchess Caroberta in recognition for his service to Toussaint. The ruler’s gift came with an unexpected barb, however, for the house turned out to be haunted and, even worse, deep in tax arrears. Trastamara consulted the druids of Caed Myrkvid about his case and was given the following advice: if you cannot reach a deal with the specter, let it be and call it a day.
Gate erected with funds from the Redanian royal family, who, wanting to earn favor with Novigrad merchants and the hierarch, dedicated a significant amount of coin to its construction, as well as some no-less-valuable (wo)manpower in the form of the master architect Countess Anna Yaye-Pinkovitz and her skilled crew.
This village was once famed across all of Skellige for the fact that it was inhabited exclusively by women, all their men having died during one raid or another.
The local community held a raising bee to construct the new brick Upper Mill to replace the old wooden Lower Mill. Once finished, however, they decided closing a fully-functional mill just because there is a newer one would be a sinful waste, thus both mills remain in operation.
On account of their mastery of their craft and painstaking attention to detail, the shipwrights working in this harbor are considered the best in the isles.
The villagers here were famous for their love of pickled herring. They ate it for breakfast, dinner and supper, and even made jams and compotes out of it.
War has caused countless refugees to flee Temeria. With the Pontar blockaded, they have tended to flood villages which, like Ursten, are located close to river crossings.
The history of the von Everec estate is as tangled as that of the family itself. The once wealthy Redanian family’s manor and lands were auctioned off after they fell deeply in debt, but were returned to von Everec hands by Olgierd, the infamous leader of an informal band of armed men calling themselves the Redanian Free Company. Despite the effort he went through to regain it, Olgierd abandoned the residence some time later, and dark legends concerning it now circulate among its neighbors.
The once-beautiful manor house located near here was known for its extravagant balls, which were attended by the cream of the local youth. Its owners abandoned it over a century ago, but soon afterwards it became a place of worship for the local community, which believes a deity dwells in the ruins.
The grand name might seem in ill-fitting with this place, but the troll that lives here - a Redanian patriot and military aficionado - goes to great lengths to make his beloved King Radovid proud.
According to legend, many years ago a young woman would wait here and watch for her husband’s return from an overseas raid. Years passed and woman grew old, still waiting for her husband. Yet he never came, and finally, she died. Three days after her funeral, her husband returned, having at last escaped from the pirates who had held him captive all this time. When he learned about his beloved’s loyal vigil, he wept bitter tears, then leapt to his death.
Years ago, an eccentric count named Jacobus Ruth of the Rieslings settled here. The count could not stand the pomposity of court life but loved good wine. He thus planted a vineyard here which produces a fabulous beaujolais prized on both sides of the Pontar.
A long, long time ago, when this land was ruled by forest spirits and ancient gods, the living would come here to pay their respects to the dead in the way their holy tome commanded: “Walk thee in darkness, on a path of blood, standing under bare sky, naked before the gods and their messengers.”
The inhabitants of this village are known for their talkativeness and tendency to exaggerate, which makes them good companions for a round of drink, but impossible to tolerate for long stretches of time.
Yustianna was a pirate born of a Skelliger from Clan an Craite and a captive woman taken during a raid. In her time she was feared on the Continent from Ofir to Zanguebar. Known for her skill as a navigator and unmatched master of various weapons, she quickly became the terror of the Great Sea, and when she returned to Skellige, they say this cave is where she hid her loot.
It is hard to say anything about Zuetzer Castle without mentioning the tragic death of Anastasia von Bourmann. Once one of the most powerful magnates in Redania, Count von Bourmann retreated from public life after the loss of his only child and never left his family manor to the very end of his days. Currently Zuetzer Castle is but a decaying ruin haunted by a sad past.
