Nestled in the center of the great swamplands is Phomparr, the floating city. This city is a dizzying network of canals and streams broken up by small marsh mounds of thick vegetation. It is rumored that hundreds of years ago, a cult following a primeval destructive god spread throughout the land. The populace offended Melora by worshiping this primitive god of a past age. They had cut swathes of trees and cleared the land for large temples of stonework. In her fury, Melora raised the river waters making the land a swampy marsh, with ground so soft no stone foundation could be laid.
Phomparr declined but slowly crawled back from this great cataclysm. While much of the land could not bear a stone walls, trees with thick tangles of roots sprung up easily. Simple structures of light wood and bamboo could be made, elevated up as platforms above the flooded swampland. While Melora washed the land with her fury, she also imparted her gifts of life. The tropical swamp exploded with verdant growth as a myriad of fresh vegetables and fruits could easily be cultivated, and the dark waters were stocked full of fish.
Now only great public meeting halls and temples are the common structures seen within Phomparr, precariously balanced on long stilts of bamboo and timber. Some more wealthy citizens try to elevate their status having such homes above the waters and motes of tangled roots and grasses. However, most of the citizens happily live their lives on small boats. It is common to see teeming markets of fresh food and dried fish among the tangled network of canals within the city. Despite the ancient calamity that befell them, the resilient people of Phomparr have remained and flourished in this wild tropical swampland.
The city of Phomparr is widely known for their great markets. Many adept trappers and herbalists delve deep within the swampland wilds, returning with unique flowers, roots, and wild beasts. The markets are a bustling affair of trading and auctions for fresh goods and exotic plants and animals. At times such trade is a dizzy affair for those not familiar with the rapid exchange of words, hand gestures, and goods the local citizens engage in. But if one has a quick tongue and a sharp sense of commerce, unique goods can be purchased. As such, many traveling merchants make the dangerous trek through the wild swamps to Phomparr to seek out wondrous animals and plants, items that would turn a great profit in the more temperate neighboring lands.
The people of Phomparr have little need of a city guard. Many take up slights against family honor by a quick thumping of heads to the offending family. Occasionally though, a darker deed is committed. Such evils are punished through a quiet formation of a townsfolk mob that see to the sinking the responsible party’s boat. For without a boat one is doomed in Phomparr, as this exiles them to a harsh life in the unforgiving remote swamps as tribal wildmen.
More zealot followers of Melora as of late have become an increasing vocal minority within Phomparr, seeking to destroy any standing structure. They see constructed temples to Melora as an affront to the god, and especially have ire towards those citizens that seek to live in stilt houses. This has caused some friction between the more wealthy citizens and some of the lower class. However most citizens would agree this fringe element of Melora worshipers are too fanatical in their beliefs.