The crags of Lowshilda are not fit for cities, but men have made them here anyway. Years ago, explorers, en route to other conquests, discovered fat, sluggish sea cows lingering in the warm ocean current near the rocks and believed that they had found an Eden on earth. Having come upon a long sought respite from their itinerant condition, the sailors returned the next summer to build small cottages upon the crags, and made sport of spearing and salting the sea cows to eat for the long winters.
As word of the paradise spread, men of every color, creed and condition made their pilgrimage to the crags, erecting in under a lifetime a grand, ramshackle metropolis stitched together by elaborate bridges and palaces.
The sea cows are all eaten now and the men mostly gone, save for a few destitute, stoic fishermen who make these crags their summer mansions. The terracotta bridges and pink palazzos have since fallen into the sea, sinking towards the graveyard of old sea cow carcasses. Discoverers will find these things in time and imagine that a great civilization that once flourished here- though only gluttony and reckless abandon ever colonized these crags.