A port town on the western coast of Delthreia, Rayceill is a warren of tilting buildings and winding streets. The smell of the fish market pervades the place, and the cobbled roads make it a feat of acrobatics to chase down the urchin who just stole your purse.
Crime is a way of life here, and the mayors of Rayceill have remarkably short life expectancies, victimes of the dance that the “noble” houses of have been turning in for centuries. Contraband makes its way from hand to hand in dank alleys, and the mists that blow in from the Charthese Sound are stiff, and chill. You don’t want to walk the streets of Rayceill aloneat night, though company may leave you in the gutter with a knife in your back.