Forest City

The walls of the city are intergrown trees, planted long before the memory of any man now living. Once, they must have been saplings, but the trees had long since grown into an implacable barrier around the city, over a hundred feet high. Their branches stretched out in every direction, their roots buried deep. High magicians had long ago added hardness to the tree-wall's bark so that it was all but impossible to chip away, and the trees coursed with such life that no fire could hope to consume the walls. In many ways, [Forest City] was the safest place in the world. Even its open gate, a gap in the trees connected only by the branches joining at its peak to form an arch, did not seem to invite enemies. If [Forest City] had any enemies. Indeed, it was a place of total calm. Here, all were welcome. They could study, work, or even just claim asylum, and the city opened its arms to them. All it asked in return is that you left behind something good when you left its living walls, be that research, craftsmanship, or a fond memory.