There is an empire. A vast edifice of order, with mighty cultivators ruling from the peak, fighting every day to keep the barbarians at bay and protect the vast number of mortals underneath its aegis.
There is a province. The Emerald Fields, long fractious and fragmented, with dozens and more prideful bloodlines clashing, feeding the soil with violence, 'till they were brought to heel by the Bai.
There is a county. Ruled over by a single cultivator family, with a great many concerns to watch for, the privilege of the land's resources and the burden of keeping its spirits tame and harmless.
There is a village. A quiet place, far from anything of true import. They grow rice, like everyone does, but this particular village is also known for their cranberries.
There is a shrine, in which resides a particular placid, if gluttonous, spirit that watches over the many ponds and pools, bullying competition away and enjoying the frequent offerings of fruit and fish. It is a humble, if large, structure of stacked stones and a mossy roof, sitting at the edge of a still pool lined with tall reeds and grass and surrounded by trees and more waters, where insect noises sing out in a minor cacophony. A dirt trail wends through the drier parts of the surroundings, leading up to it. Wildflowers bloom, and the sweet scent of cranberries and flowers mixes lazily with the more usual faint filth and rot.
There is a portalsnake, dropping someone unexpected here.