Niskerra is an old, untouched land considered uninhabitable by many of Nhera's mortal races. For its mountains and untamed wilderness, it is a difficult land to traverse and there are few vistas flat enough for landscaping. Fewer vistas remain still where the dark elves don't stalk.

Black spires and miserable forts are most familiar to the Drâihari who, in safety against the void, build with black stone from the central mountains and metal scavenged from the dark below and their fallen foes.

A mortal would be hard-pressed to find a Draihari settlement between the trees-- their cities and towns a perfect mimicry of the black forest around them and enchanted to dissuade most from finding them at all.

Origin.

When Asra touched Niskerra for the first time, the Drâihari claimed it as their own with blood and black steel, outcast from Valurn where their high kin thought them corrupted and lost to the ravaged darklands.

When Asra shone for the first time, Zhaine's blood still fresh upon the fields, Mornkhainen thought that his people should return to the peace they knew before. Bloodlust and thirst a notion unknown in the early days of the realm.

He simply banned violence amongst their kin. There had been enough blood, he'd said.

Mornkhainen, now Mornhaladurun, instructed that the bones of new cities be developed over where vicious war camps already presided-- over the blood of the dark and the dead.

The bones of a structure with mislaid plans. Forgotten near the edge of the primordial forest they'd fought to protect. Its half-formed ribs swung overhead to protect from the sun and dusty ground packed firm from hundreds of frenzied steps.

In the Dark Days, the spines of their spire-cities were replaced by concealed warcamps subsumed in leather, animal pelt, scavenged steel, and local timber.

During these Dark Days, creatures and wagons designed from local timber built these territories- early Draihari warcamps being designed out of leather, animal pelt, and wood from near forests. A need for mustering and a place to forge weaponry and heal the maimed.

About a dozen eyes turn to the warbreed and some nod after moments. All not in the center sat or stood in casual ease upon scavenged things. Crates and stones. A wooden table from Valurn covered in damage was laid in drink and a splash of old blood. Well-loved.

These settlements are bound together by the collective memory of the dark elves only and they have no need of road or paving stone to find where their kind belongs.

Like their tendency to hide their cities within the treelines and mountains, this is a habit arising from instinct and the Dark Days where the design of roads and paths could easily expose their kin to any foe that wanders to find them.