I know of a city. Formed off broke Ambition, The hope being that this grand plan of a municipality would rival that of the finest. Great ancient builders put a great deal of the gold snow into it. In this world, In the areas that had the highest potential to be fantastic. One of the gods came to cultivate it, grow the finest of trees. The finest greens. The far off opposing city of lost Silver was supposed to tremble in its. Wake. The land was gathered up. The God set to work for many years though eventually, he grew tired, and his project ended. The God left, and the inhabitants tried to make their own way, but they liked things being the way they were. Time passed, and the ideas of the future remained stagnant for much later time. Older wise men came there to live their days peacefully And passed in. Due time. That was was where the city got its name. The young sprouts that went from the land always tried to uproot themselves. Their little green legs popping up between the cracks the run to the beginning, away from the end.