The World of Esyldien is an ever churning jewel of possibility and adventure. This is a realm so different and yet so similar to other realms, and thus truly unique in its own peculiar ways. Magic and Technology have advanced greatly and yet much of the world still remains wrapped in ancient mystery and possibility. Great Powers - from the political to the supernatural - are making careful moves every day in their various continuing struggles.
Upon this world lies The Tyrandelian Sovereignty, though it's more commonly known as simply Tyrandel, a large continent nation filled with many diverse kingdoms. Once long ago these kingdoms were at constant wars with each other. But in this age they are all united under the Lords of Shieldmor, while each king or queen rules their individual kingdoms beneath them. As a result the nation has begun to grow and develop, with many great cities and works of wonder to behold. Providing fertile ground for many amazing heroes and adventurers who seek to make their fame and fortune.
But even the mightiest heroes and grandest adventures often have the most modest of beginnings. And there are few places more modest then the tiny village of Greymeadow.
Who knows if the meadow it's named after ever truly existed, but if it did, it has long ago been taken over by the swamp land that surrounds this hamlet. Greymeadow is, technically speaking, a small fishing village, built on the western shore of a lake in the middle of the Tarrin Kingdom. However the lake in question is filled with dangerous swamp creatures so it's a very few fishermen who are able and willing to risk their lives for a decent catch.
The town's greatest draw, if you can call it that, is simply its location. Greymeadow lies at the junction of the main roads that run through Tarrin Kingdom, making it a convenient location for travelers to rest on their way past the town. It is a town that survives almost entirely by the passing of adventurers, traders, and merchants trying to get somewhere else.
Indeed just this morning a caravan from the distant farmlands of Wheatrest arrived in town. Though they only plan to stay here for one night to recover from their time on the road before heading up to Tarrin Castle to the north.
Among the members of this caravan is a young halfling man who came with them all the way from Wheatrest. Currently he's following an eager human woman who they picked up along the way as an added escort. They run across the town center and come upon a large mansion on the southeast edge of town.
There is a large sign outside the mansion door labeling this "The Thief's Respite". An inn that caters to those travelers who are more interested in passing through the town then exploring it. It is unsurprisingly the largest building in Greymeadow and one of the busiest. Converted from a mansion built by an unlucky noble long ago, it hosts the finest lodging available in this town; not that this is saying much.
Witt dodges somewhat nimbly past the people walking through the streets. He is a young male halfling with messy brown hair, wearing some rather beaten-up brown leather armour that definitely looks like it was made for someone larger. He has a shortbow slung over his shoulder, and the expression of someone who’s in a miserable little town in unpleasant weather, but determined not to let it affect his mood.
So, that’s the inn up head,he says to the woman he is walking with. The ‘Thief’s Respite’. We stayed there last year. And there year before. It’s…um… fine. I suppose you could say it’s the finest inn in town. He laughs, and almost collides with a woman carrying a large basket of apples. Oh, excuse me, ma’am. Sorry about that.
As the caravan and the woman continue their progress towards the inn, Witt follows.
Moira is an average sized human woman built a bit on the sturdier side with shockingly red hair. She is wearing some basic clothing with some well crafted leather armor over it. Besides the pack on her back and pouch on her side she has four daggers strapped to her hips, two to either side.You catch snippets of her rapid speech to the small figure trailing just behind her "......exciting Witt.....a new town......look at the size of this house!" She enters the inn takes a quick look around and approaches who she assumes is the innkeeper pulling a sheet out of her pouch. "Hello. I take it you are the inn keeper. My name is Moira. This is my friend Witt. We would like a room for the evening and if you could tell us where to find someone regarding this?" She thrusts the paper out to show the person.
Oh, um, two rooms, says Witt hastily, and actually more than two rooms, because Gerald. Gerald the Caravan Master. He's outside. Dwarf. Master of the caravan. From Wheatrest. And also some guards and others. We stayed here last year, although I don't think I actually spoke to you... he trails off.
On the other side of the main doorway of the Thief's Respite is the main hall. Originally meant as the large entrance hall of the mansion, it's now used as the primary dining hall of the Inn. Several tables are setup throughout the room allowing the temporary residents to find a place to eat a meal or socialize with their friends.
Next to the door is another straight flat table setup with some basic linens and a large guestbook laying prominently on top of the table. Behind it is where the supposed innkeeper in question sits. A rugged looking half-elf woman in a nice but very functional maid outfit. Though this woman looks somewhat young, the creases around her eyes show a person who has seen quite a bit during their life. Even so it takes her a moment to react to Moira's sudden arrival.
Witt, as you recall, you do remember seeing her here last year. You also recall that the person behind the desk that you spoke to last time was a dwarf. Currently this half-elf more focused with what Moria has shoved in her face.
"Ah yes, ... I am the inn keeper here, or at least one of them, nice to meet you." She takes the paper being shoved towards her carefully as she continues, "If you're looking for a room for the two of ya, the price is 7 silver per room, just sign in, pay up, and I'll get you your keys." She then takes a moment to read the paper, a quick wave of recognition flows over her face before she responds, "Oh this is about the mine, yes? Right, says here to talk to Sdrueg Redpike, that's definitely the mine. Yeah, you'll find Dru at the Lure on the other side of the river."
Besides this inn keeper there are not many people currently visible in the inn. Though the most notable exception are a pair of women sitting at a table not far from the front. And definitely close enough to overhear the entire exchange.
These two have recently finished their breakfast after spending the previous night here. One of them is a red skinned tiefling who currently has several oddly shaped metal pieces laid out on the table next to her, possibly too focused on her current project to notice. The other woman is a more gloomy looking elf, who is far less distracted by comparison.
Nemeia& 9 - it's time to Introduce your characters and tell us what they do next :)
Giving a nervous laugh. "Of course you can get your own room if you like Witt. I didn't mean to say that we would......" Her face goes red to match her hair as she stumbles with her words to continue. "I...Its ju...just that you are ... You are the only friend I have right now and I thought we could share a room, just a room, and ...." She trails off as she turns back to the inn keeper handing over a gold piece and signing the book. "Sorry one room for myself. Thank you."
Witt also turns bright red, and then he takes a deep breath, lets it out, and smiles and laughs. You know what? I think we're going to get along very well, Ms. Moira. And I would be honoured to share a room with you. You've already saved me and my friends once, after all. It would be good to know you were nearby in case of goblin burglars. We were attacked, you know,he mentions to the innkeeper. About a day from here. Is that common?
The half elf at the desk blinks once before turning her attention towards Witt fully, "Oh yeah, I imagine so. Word is goblin folk have been getting more aggressive lately." There is a silent beat before she continued, "Did you say Gerald, from Wheatrest? Yeah we're expecting you lot again this year. Good to know you all made it through, from the sound of it. We'll be sure to have plenty of rooms for everyone. In the meantime, one room for you two then?" She quickly takes the offered gold coin and slides it under the table, from which she produces two keys, placing them on the table in front of Moira and Witt.
"And that is why you always have to limit your load weights or the actuators will just simply not function with the desired results," the tiefling says to herself in frustration as she sweeps the metal pieces into a small satchel attached to her belt. When she hears about the goblin attacks, she directs her attention to the newcomers. Between her fingers, the tiefling spins a small tool most commonly used by people that craft small tinker toys. She attempts to direct her companion's attention to the newly arrived.
The tiefling has dark red hair that is pulled back into several braids. She has light red horns that extend toward the back of her head. She's wearing scale armor that has several hooks and eyelets on it that are currently holding various tools. At her hip is a small satchel with several gnomish looking gears that have interlocked to keep the bag closed. Her armor and gear don't to be of the highest quality, but it is clear that she takes care of it. Slung on her back is circular metal shield that looks like it hasn't been used very often. The crossbow next to it is much more interesting with the magical runes that run along the metal frame.
Feeling a little awkward, and not sure how to answer the innkeeper's question, Witt looks away and around the room, taking it in, comparing it to his memories of the previous years. He notices a tiefling woman who seems to have glanced over in his direction. He gives a friendly smile, and then continues to look around, wondering where Gerald has got to.
Across the table from Nemeia sits a taller than average, although very skinny, elf woman with pale grey skin and grey hair, those who are knowledgeable in lore would recognize her as a Shadar-Kai. She wears a black unbuttoned coat of fine material on top of leather armor that looks like tight leather. She has a hood up that covers a portion of her face, which is jeweled by 9 scars slashing across it and extending to various parts of her head. Her hands also bear scars, but currently they are occupied by doodling something on a page of a simple sketchbook. A whip that has been visibly used many times weighs on her waist, alongside with a crossbow on her waist and a puff of raven feathers on her neck. A shield is slung on her back, similar to Nemeia, although this one has many marks of damage. 9 suppresses a burst of laughter as she hears the exchange of human and halfling. She turns to Nemeia with checks almost exploding and imitates halfling’s speech, “It would be an honor, he says. Pffffff. Haven’t laughed this hard for days. What do you want to do today?”, they may have heard the last part, if so, 9’s voice is a mixture of a cracking and rustling voices, as if someone has a perpetual cold.
Glancing at Witt who has turned around she rolls her eyes then replies “On second thought I would like some time to study tonight. I think I’ll take a room just for myself. Thank you. And you said look for Sdrueg Redpike at the Lure across the river, right?”
Nemeia returns the smile from the halfling until she hear's her companion's imitation. She turns quickly with what looks to be a "oh hush," expression followed by a grin. "I have to admit, I thought these travels of ours would bring us to more exciting places." Nemeia turns back toward the guests and says to her companion, "Wonder what brings them through town." Nemeia tries to keep her voice somewhat quiet to not appear too nosey. She reaches into her satchel and pulls out several pieces of glass and metal. She uses her tools to bed the thin stands of metal around the blue lenses. It takes her time, but she ends up crafting what appears to be blue lens spectacles. She slides the metal frames onto her nose and behind her ears as she looks upon the new arrivals.
Nemeiacurrently you don't detect any sort of magic aura around these two.
The inn keeper merely shrugs, swiftly replacing the key in front of Moira with another similarly styled key. "Suit yourself, one room just for you. And yeah, you'll find ol' Dru at The Waning Lure. It's a bit hard to find, but just head straight north from here, across the bridge and up to the docks. You'll want the place across from the boats. If you get lost just ask around."
Witt grabs his key and pockets it. I went to the Waning Lure last year,he says to Moira. It's really the only other place in town to go for drinks, and... well, it's really the only other place in town. Or at least, that's what everyone says. He looks around and out of the windows to see if Gerald or anyone else from the caravan has arrived yet.
“Well, we’ll visit more exciting places in future. I think you should talk to her, maybe you’ll find out something new in her studies.”, 9 smiles making final strokes in her sketchbook. She, of course, agreed with Nemeia. This town did not have much to offer in the department of Interesting expirience. She had some thoughts about going to the local tavern and trying to catch some rumors and whispers. She also didn’t talk to anyone properly since she met Nemeia. Her legs folded and she observed what others did for now, rustling the raven feathers on her neck.
Nemeia lets out a sigh as she agrees with her companion. She gathers up her things and makes her way toward the woman. "I couldn't help but to overhear. What are you studying? Is it related to the arcane," she said with more hope in her voice than anything.
The World of Esyldien is an ever churning jewel of possibility and adventure. This is a realm so different and yet so similar to other realms, and thus truly unique in its own peculiar ways. Magic and Technology have advanced greatly and yet much of the world still remains wrapped in ancient mystery and possibility. Great Powers - from the political to the supernatural - are making careful moves every day in their various continuing struggles.
Upon this world lies The Tyrandelian Sovereignty, though it's more commonly known as simply Tyrandel, a large continent nation filled with many diverse kingdoms. Once long ago these kingdoms were at constant wars with each other. But in this age they are all united under the Lords of Shieldmor, while each king or queen rules their individual kingdoms beneath them. As a result the nation has begun to grow and develop, with many great cities and works of wonder to behold. Providing fertile ground for many amazing heroes and adventurers who seek to make their fame and fortune.
But even the mightiest heroes and grandest adventures often have the most modest of beginnings. And there are few places more modest then the tiny village of Greymeadow.
Who knows if the meadow it's named after ever truly existed, but if it did, it has long ago been taken over by the swamp land that surrounds this hamlet. Greymeadow is, technically speaking, a small fishing village, built on the western shore of a lake in the middle of the Tarrin Kingdom. However the lake in question is filled with dangerous swamp creatures so it's a very few fishermen who are able and willing to risk their lives for a decent catch.
The town's greatest draw, if you can call it that, is simply its location. Greymeadow lies at the junction of the main roads that run through Tarrin Kingdom, making it a convenient location for travelers to rest on their way past the town. It is a town that survives almost entirely by the passing of adventurers, traders, and merchants trying to get somewhere else.
Indeed just this morning a caravan from the distant farmlands of Wheatrest arrived in town. Though they only plan to stay here for one night to recover from their time on the road before heading up to Tarrin Castle to the north.
Among the members of this caravan is a young halfling man who came with them all the way from Wheatrest. Currently he's following an eager human woman who they picked up along the way as an added escort. They run across the town center and come upon a large mansion on the southeast edge of town.
There is a large sign outside the mansion door labeling this "The Thief's Respite". An inn that caters to those travelers who are more interested in passing through the town then exploring it. It is unsurprisingly the largest building in Greymeadow and one of the busiest. Converted from a mansion built by an unlucky noble long ago, it hosts the finest lodging available in this town; not that this is saying much.
Witt & Moira - introduce your characters and tell us what they do next :)
Witt dodges somewhat nimbly past the people walking through the streets. He is a young male halfling with messy brown hair, wearing some rather beaten-up brown leather armour that definitely looks like it was made for someone larger. He has a shortbow slung over his shoulder, and the expression of someone who’s in a miserable little town in unpleasant weather, but determined not to let it affect his mood.
So, that’s the inn up head, he says to the woman he is walking with. The ‘Thief’s Respite’. We stayed there last year. And there year before. It’s…um… fine. I suppose you could say it’s the finest inn in town. He laughs, and almost collides with a woman carrying a large basket of apples. Oh, excuse me, ma’am. Sorry about that.
As the caravan and the woman continue their progress towards the inn, Witt follows.
Moira
Moira is an average sized human woman built a bit on the sturdier side with shockingly red hair. She is wearing some basic clothing with some well crafted leather armor over it. Besides the pack on her back and pouch on her side she has four daggers strapped to her hips, two to either side.You catch snippets of her rapid speech to the small figure trailing just behind her "......exciting Witt.....a new town......look at the size of this house!" She enters the inn takes a quick look around and approaches who she assumes is the innkeeper pulling a sheet out of her pouch. "Hello. I take it you are the inn keeper. My name is Moira. This is my friend Witt. We would like a room for the evening and if you could tell us where to find someone regarding this?" She thrusts the paper out to show the person.
Oh, um, two rooms, says Witt hastily, and actually more than two rooms, because Gerald. Gerald the Caravan Master. He's outside. Dwarf. Master of the caravan. From Wheatrest. And also some guards and others. We stayed here last year, although I don't think I actually spoke to you... he trails off.
On the other side of the main doorway of the Thief's Respite is the main hall. Originally meant as the large entrance hall of the mansion, it's now used as the primary dining hall of the Inn. Several tables are setup throughout the room allowing the temporary residents to find a place to eat a meal or socialize with their friends.
Next to the door is another straight flat table setup with some basic linens and a large guestbook laying prominently on top of the table. Behind it is where the supposed innkeeper in question sits. A rugged looking half-elf woman in a nice but very functional maid outfit. Though this woman looks somewhat young, the creases around her eyes show a person who has seen quite a bit during their life. Even so it takes her a moment to react to Moira's sudden arrival.
Witt, as you recall, you do remember seeing her here last year. You also recall that the person behind the desk that you spoke to last time was a dwarf. Currently this half-elf more focused with what Moria has shoved in her face.
"Ah yes, ... I am the inn keeper here, or at least one of them, nice to meet you." She takes the paper being shoved towards her carefully as she continues, "If you're looking for a room for the two of ya, the price is 7 silver per room, just sign in, pay up, and I'll get you your keys." She then takes a moment to read the paper, a quick wave of recognition flows over her face before she responds, "Oh this is about the mine, yes? Right, says here to talk to Sdrueg Redpike, that's definitely the mine. Yeah, you'll find Dru at the Lure on the other side of the river."
Besides this inn keeper there are not many people currently visible in the inn. Though the most notable exception are a pair of women sitting at a table not far from the front. And definitely close enough to overhear the entire exchange.
These two have recently finished their breakfast after spending the previous night here. One of them is a red skinned tiefling who currently has several oddly shaped metal pieces laid out on the table next to her, possibly too focused on her current project to notice. The other woman is a more gloomy looking elf, who is far less distracted by comparison.
Nemeia & 9 - it's time to Introduce your characters and tell us what they do next :)
Moira
Giving a nervous laugh. "Of course you can get your own room if you like Witt. I didn't mean to say that we would......" Her face goes red to match her hair as she stumbles with her words to continue. "I...Its ju...just that you are ... You are the only friend I have right now and I thought we could share a room, just a room, and ...." She trails off as she turns back to the inn keeper handing over a gold piece and signing the book. "Sorry one room for myself. Thank you."
Witt also turns bright red, and then he takes a deep breath, lets it out, and smiles and laughs. You know what? I think we're going to get along very well, Ms. Moira. And I would be honoured to share a room with you. You've already saved me and my friends once, after all. It would be good to know you were nearby in case of goblin burglars. We were attacked, you know, he mentions to the innkeeper. About a day from here. Is that common?
The half elf at the desk blinks once before turning her attention towards Witt fully, "Oh yeah, I imagine so. Word is goblin folk have been getting more aggressive lately." There is a silent beat before she continued, "Did you say Gerald, from Wheatrest? Yeah we're expecting you lot again this year. Good to know you all made it through, from the sound of it. We'll be sure to have plenty of rooms for everyone. In the meantime, one room for you two then?" She quickly takes the offered gold coin and slides it under the table, from which she produces two keys, placing them on the table in front of Moira and Witt.
"And that is why you always have to limit your load weights or the actuators will just simply not function with the desired results," the tiefling says to herself in frustration as she sweeps the metal pieces into a small satchel attached to her belt. When she hears about the goblin attacks, she directs her attention to the newcomers. Between her fingers, the tiefling spins a small tool most commonly used by people that craft small tinker toys. She attempts to direct her companion's attention to the newly arrived.
The tiefling has dark red hair that is pulled back into several braids. She has light red horns that extend toward the back of her head. She's wearing scale armor that has several hooks and eyelets on it that are currently holding various tools. At her hip is a small satchel with several gnomish looking gears that have interlocked to keep the bag closed. Her armor and gear don't to be of the highest quality, but it is clear that she takes care of it. Slung on her back is circular metal shield that looks like it hasn't been used very often. The crossbow next to it is much more interesting with the magical runes that run along the metal frame.
Feeling a little awkward, and not sure how to answer the innkeeper's question, Witt looks away and around the room, taking it in, comparing it to his memories of the previous years. He notices a tiefling woman who seems to have glanced over in his direction. He gives a friendly smile, and then continues to look around, wondering where Gerald has got to.
Across the table from Nemeia sits a taller than average, although very skinny, elf woman with pale grey skin and grey hair, those who are knowledgeable in lore would recognize her as a Shadar-Kai. She wears a black unbuttoned coat of fine material on top of leather armor that looks like tight leather. She has a hood up that covers a portion of her face, which is jeweled by 9 scars slashing across it and extending to various parts of her head. Her hands also bear scars, but currently they are occupied by doodling something on a page of a simple sketchbook. A whip that has been visibly used many times weighs on her waist, alongside with a crossbow on her waist and a puff of raven feathers on her neck. A shield is slung on her back, similar to Nemeia, although this one has many marks of damage. 9 suppresses a burst of laughter as she hears the exchange of human and halfling. She turns to Nemeia with checks almost exploding and imitates halfling’s speech, “It would be an honor, he says. Pffffff. Haven’t laughed this hard for days. What do you want to do today?”, they may have heard the last part, if so, 9’s voice is a mixture of a cracking and rustling voices, as if someone has a perpetual cold.
Moira
Glancing at Witt who has turned around she rolls her eyes then replies “On second thought I would like some time to study tonight. I think I’ll take a room just for myself. Thank you. And you said look for Sdrueg Redpike at the Lure across the river, right?”
Nemeia returns the smile from the halfling until she hear's her companion's imitation. She turns quickly with what looks to be a "oh hush," expression followed by a grin. "I have to admit, I thought these travels of ours would bring us to more exciting places." Nemeia turns back toward the guests and says to her companion, "Wonder what brings them through town." Nemeia tries to keep her voice somewhat quiet to not appear too nosey. She reaches into her satchel and pulls out several pieces of glass and metal. She uses her tools to bed the thin stands of metal around the blue lenses. It takes her time, but she ends up crafting what appears to be blue lens spectacles. She slides the metal frames onto her nose and behind her ears as she looks upon the new arrivals.
Ritual cast detect magic
Nemeia's eyes widen when she hears the woman mention studying. She looks back to her companion with a very expecting look.
Nemeia currently you don't detect any sort of magic aura around these two.
The inn keeper merely shrugs, swiftly replacing the key in front of Moira with another similarly styled key. "Suit yourself, one room just for you. And yeah, you'll find ol' Dru at The Waning Lure. It's a bit hard to find, but just head straight north from here, across the bridge and up to the docks. You'll want the place across from the boats. If you get lost just ask around."
"Pity," Nemeia says louder than she was expecting.
Witt grabs his key and pockets it. I went to the Waning Lure last year, he says to Moira. It's really the only other place in town to go for drinks, and... well, it's really the only other place in town. Or at least, that's what everyone says. He looks around and out of the windows to see if Gerald or anyone else from the caravan has arrived yet.
“Well, we’ll visit more exciting places in future. I think you should talk to her, maybe you’ll find out something new in her studies.”, 9 smiles making final strokes in her sketchbook. She, of course, agreed with Nemeia. This town did not have much to offer in the department of Interesting expirience. She had some thoughts about going to the local tavern and trying to catch some rumors and whispers. She also didn’t talk to anyone properly since she met Nemeia. Her legs folded and she observed what others did for now, rustling the raven feathers on her neck.
Nemeia lets out a sigh as she agrees with her companion. She gathers up her things and makes her way toward the woman. "I couldn't help but to overhear. What are you studying? Is it related to the arcane," she said with more hope in her voice than anything.