Qohor

The Free City at the edge of its great forest, famed for dark arts and smiths who can rework Valyrian steel.

The fuller tale

Qohor sits at the western edge of the vast forest that bears its name, a dark-stoned city grown rich on timber, furs and the caravan trade ÔÇö the last civilized stop before the long road east to Vaes Dothrak. Its reputation runs darker than its ledgers. The city worships the Black Goat, whose altars take blood daily ÔÇö calves and horses on ordinary days, condemned men on holy ones ÔÇö and its name is a byword across Essos for sorcery, necromancy and arts best not enumerated. What is certain is the skill of its forges: the smiths of Qohor alone remember how to rework Valyrian steel without ruining it, a craft they guard so jealously that men whisper the secret involves the Black GoatÔÇÖs favorite currency. Tobho Mott, the master armorer of KingÔÇÖs Landing who reforges Ice into two Lannister blades, learned his trade there ÔÇö the Qohorik arts, it turns out, reach even into the storyÔÇÖs most bitter inheritance.

QohorÔÇÖs great hour belongs to history, and the story retells it every time the Unsullied are sold. Four centuries past, with its own cavalry annihilated, the city hired three thousand Unsullied to face a khalasar fifty thousand strong. Eighteen times the Dothraki charged; eighteen times they broke on the spears; and when barely six hundred eunuchs still stood among the heaped horses, the surviving riders cut off their braids and threw them at the victorsÔÇÖ feet before turning away. The Three Thousand of Qohor are the sales pitch Daenerys hears in Astapor ÔÇö proof of what obedience perfected can do, offered by men who never mention what it costs to manufacture.

Born here

The fallen of this place ÔÇö if any, they are named here. Spoilers.

No death the chronicle records has come to this ground ÔÇö or none the maesters have set down.