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Lucre Merrimere

Jackie Cat

A cat who writes stories.
Heartache staff
Pronoun
they or she
The waterside towns of the Lucre Confederacy were oft considered as close to utopia as one could imagine. A place where food was never scarce, and wine flowed as easily as water. Neighbors were friends to all with nary a quarrel in sight, where the only raised voices were those of laughter and merriment. What belonged to one belonged to all, and all pitched in to make sure the town prospered. Any disruptors and disturbers of the peace were tasked with taking their energies and redirecting them beyond the town’s borders…

Like most of the Confederacy’s populous areas, Merrimere was as much a terrestrial locale as an aquatic one. A mish-mash of wooden structures built up along the water’s edge until they inevitably spilled out into the lake itself. Log cabins perched atop stilts were connected to half-submerged mud and resin domes that were as accessible by ladder as they were by swimming. Offshore floating walkways constructed of lashed logs were tethered to their on-shore counterparts, providing passage through the mud and reed filled banks to the farmlands beyond. Further down the shoreline, a dam at the rivermouth played host to multiple water wheels that transformed the community’s lifeblood into power. Grain and saw mills turned with ease, and textiles were plentiful for all manner of clothing, hammocks, and sails.

Life was simpler here, and many residents spent their time lounging in the sun or drifting about the shimmering waters of the lake in one or two-mon vessels. The fertile soil ensured plentiful harvests, and communal baskets of fresh fruit and bread were always within reach. Open-air platforms of packed mud and grasses— some elevated, some at water level— played host to all sorts of activities. Markets during the day, parties at night, even an impromptu concert at any hour. It is said that in Merrimere one can always hear the sound of some kind of music floating over the tranquil murmur of water.

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Many thanks to @Panoramic_Vacuum for writing up this location!
 
The river winding its way down from Wishingmist Falls cut straight through through the heart of a lush temperate rainforest, one that stretched all the way up the western coast. The air was wet and cool, and the smell of petrichor lingered from recent rainfall. It was still early enough in the season that the stifling humidity hadn't settled in yet. Fresh stems and ferns peeked from the leaf-strewn ground as the forest awakened from winter's grip.

Some ways down the river, near a large, moss-covered stone, a propped-up fishing pole hung in the trickling water below. And nearby, with quick footwork and rapid jabs, a young Buizel hopped back and forth, her multi-pronged fishing spear making quick work of the nonexistent opponent.

At least, until the sudden sound of twigs snapping and strangers approaching from the falls-side caught her attention.

"Who'zat!" she barked, brandishing her spear in the direction of the noise.
 
"Oh, good, we finally found some locals!" Owen declared.

Mhynt stomped on his head, shoving him fully into her shadow.

"Hello," Mhynt said, hoping Owen hadn't been spotted. "We're sorry if we came here suddenly, but..."

Zena swam after them, wiggling inside her great bubble of hydrokinetic water. The Feebas stuck her face out and said, between wheezes, "Do you know what part of the world this is?"

"Dungeon... matters," Mhynt explained. "We might have lost our way."

Owen tried to seep into the dark to get a look around.
 
The young Buizel narrowed her eyes suspiciously underneath a mop of fur that stuck out at all sorts of angles. "You ain't with the don are ya?" she asked, though from the sound of her voice, she didn't actually believe that they were. They didn't look like the type.

At Zena and Mhynt's elaboration, she blinked in confusion. "You got here through the dungeon? Don't tell me you wasn't in Lucre before you got lost in there." As an afterthought, young mon puffed out her chest and said, "I never get lost in there, I've cleared that place a hund... no way more times than that!"

Owen tried to seep into the dark to get a look around.

There didn't seem to be any other mon in the immediate area, though there were clearly a number of well-trodden paths leading to an assortment of fishing spots along the river. The other ends of the paths all led further downstream...
 
Jean watched the Buizel curiously. "Ooh, who's the don?" She looked around. There didn't seem to be anybody but the Buizel there. "Hi! I'm Jean!" she said. "We came from another world!"
 
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