Leilon, along the Sword Coast of Faerûn, was once a mining town that sold copper, nickel, and silver to Waterdeep. It was also a small port where merchants sometimes offloaded goods on barges (since most proper ships can’t traverse the town’s shallow mud flats) to be transported to cities all over the Sword Coast. The town has been abandoned for over a century since the time of the Spellplague, a divine phenomenon that twisted Faerûn’s magic, causing chaos across the land and this particular small town to be overrun. Now it is being rebuilt.
The half-finished palisade of Leilon will soon make a complete semicircle on the northeast side of the town, defended by an earthen rampart. To the southwest, new settlers attempt to build docks for barges, made to cross the marsh and meet merchant ships in the sea.
Outside of town, the settlers’ campground becomes ever smaller as new buildings made of wood or stone with thatched roofs are erected in Leilon’s muddy streets. At the center of it all, the New House of Thalivar, a cylindrical wizard tower, rises like a beacon, four times the height of every other building. Some lots still lie in ruins, but the settlers work quickly, clearing and reconstructing.
Visitors with coin to spend are welcome in Leilon, and adventurers are the settlers’ favorites. While there is much work to be done within the town, there are also missions to accomplish outside the settlement, listed on the job board at the fishery.
You have arrived together at the south gate in the afternoon on a fine sunny day. A newly formed band of adventurers, you are just entering the town square of Leilon which has become a place where local vendors and those passing through town can set up stalls to sell their wares. You see a Calishite blacksmith, her dark brown forearms rippling with muscles as she hammers a short sword in her open shop, a leather apron over her bright yellow vest and billowing purple pants. A wizened old man with a beard that comes to a long twisted point in the middle of his chest sits on a floating metal disc, his blue robes draping down over the sides. He hovers over a finely made but well-worn rug which is covered with scrolls. He is squinting at an unrolled scroll and making small marks with a large quill pen that seems to need no ink. Posted on the wall of a newly erected, conical-roofed shrine of Tymora, the goddess of Luck, you see a sign that reads "Puck's Potions". There are several townsfolk bustling about and a boney stray dog sniffing near the food stalls.
Describe/introduce your character briefly and what they are doing.
I arrive with my good friend Daphnie, eager to be on an adventure and see where the cryptic message received at the temple takes me. I introduce myself to the others as Irelyn. My skin is jade green, my ears pierced and pointy, my hair is black, my eyes blue green. I am calm and collected as I begin asking the others where they come from and why they are here.
I laughingly finish off what I hope will be my last sale and delivery for a very long time, telling the man at the pastry stand that I hope his son's new shoes take him on many grand adventures. With a smile, and shading my blue-reen eyes from the sun, I turn and walk toward the group of new adventurers. I catch the tail end of Irelyn's introduction and listen as everyone else shares about themselves. It's awkward to stand in my new leather armor and I wonder if I should ask the blacksmith to help me tune up my old dagger later when I realize that it's my turn to introduce myself. "Oh, sorry, I'm Ruth." I say, then, giving an awkward bow, I tuck my wispy nutmeg colored hair back into it's braid a little and head toward the smithy.
I flash a smile at the group. “I’m Garrett, it’s a pleasure to meet you all.” This is my first time on my own as an adventurer instead of a student, but I have the confidence of a seasoned traveler. My skin is lightly tanned, my eyes green and bright. My hand pushes the brown hair out of my face, revealing slightly pointed ears. “I’m from up north in Neverwinter, but it was getting a bit stuffy. Needed a change of pace, and I heard Leilon’s got plenty of work ready for us.” I take a look at the shrine of Tymora, curious to find out what kind of potions Puck can offer us.
The portly baker uses his apron to mop his brow beneath his brown bowl cut hair. His cheeks are a bit flushed from the warmth of the day, lending a rosy appearance to his smile as he waves a happy farewell at Ruth and then turns to place his son's new shoes into an empty crate behind him. He has almost sold out of the last of his wares for the day.
A little snub nosed girl, perhaps 8 years old, with a messy yellow braid down her back appears almost beneath Ruth and Irelyn's elbows, neither one noticing which direction she came from as they were busy chatting. She lifts up a small torn cloth in both hands. It's filled with small, slightly blackened, root vegetables. "Please, pretty ladies, buy some roasted radishes?" she asks in a hopeful little voice.
Garrett, looking a bit closer at the currently open entrance to the little shrine of Tymora, can see that inside the simple round chamber is a fountain with some sort of statue in the center. To the right of the fountain stands a lithe, silvery blonde haired male elf in long golden robes with his hand upon the head of a petitioner who is bowing in prayer. The young elf suddenly throws back his head in laughter and tosses a coin into the fountain. The petitioner, an older man with a care worn face, does the same, but follows the coin with his eyes hungrily before sighing and heading back out into the sunlight.
I gaze down a the young girl. She reminds me of the children that often wondered around in Neverwinter looking to earn a little coin in anyway possible. I immediately do a quick pat down of my pockets and coin bag to make sure nothing is missing.
While checking myself over I nod to Ruth, smile and say "nice to meet you!" I take note of the transaction of the shoes and wonder to myself if Ruth had made them, making a mental note to inquire about her skills later on.
Then turning to the girl I ask "how much for the radish?"
"Good afternoon, my name is Einkel," I say, as I nod curtly to the adventuring party. I am a 4 foot tall dwarf with dark hair and a long black beard. I am dressed in chain mail with a longsword at my hip and a shield strapped to my back. "I hail from baldur's gate. I am an anthropologist by profession, and I am interested in observing the new cultures and customs that will take form in this new iteration of Leilon."
The little girl smiles a gap-toothed smile. "5 coppers! I roasted 'em myself!" Her merry grin suddenly fades as her eyes widen and she backs away from Irelyn nervously. A tall man's shadow looms over them both. Einkel, Ruth, and Garrett watch as a big, dark-haired, human soldier in a chain shirt and shield decorated with the sigil of Neverwinter approaches the group and stops behind Irelyn.
"N-n-never mind, miss" the girl mumbles, still backing up.
The soldier bangs his spear hard against his shield, "Off with you now, rat!" he grumps sourly at the child. She jumps at the sound and falls over backward, spilling some of her precious radishes. The man turns to the group, eyeing them with a frown. "You the new adventurers? Took you long enough to arrive." He looks at Irelyn's green skin skeptically. "Not sure you'll do much, but that's not my place to say. I and my men serve on behalf of Neverwinter." He straightens a bit, turns, and spits on the ground next to Einkel's boot. "You lot were hired by the town council." He gestures with a bored look toward the ocean to the west. A wooden boardwalk runs down the embankment to the docks. "Go to the Fishery. Speak to the Growler." He smirks. "You'll hear her before you see her, most likely."
I pick up the radishes and dust them off, if the girl hasn't run away I will hand them back to her, if she has I'll add them to my backpack, glaring at the soldier the entire time either way. I'll look at the party and ask if their all ready? The head to the Fishery with the group.
I nod at the soldier. "Of course, of course. We'll head there right now. What's your name, by the way?" I will introduce myself to him and then follow the rest of the group to the Fishery. "What are the chances that someone named The Growler ends up being a sweet little lady?"
Ignoring Irelyn's glare and turning to answer the half elf, the soldier says, "Sargeant Hazz Yorrum, leader of the contingent at this backwater outpost." He spits again at Garret's self-introduction. "If the gods are merciful I'll have no need to remember your name. Do your best to avoid inconveniencing anyone doing real work here." Then he turns and saunters away.
The little girl thanks Irelyn, but looks at the dirty radishes sadly. She wipes off a tear and whispers to Irelyn, "You don't hafta be scared of him. He's mean to us kids 'cause we're littler than him. But he's not really brave at all. I think you and your friends look awfully strong and brave. And nice, too!" Then she rushes off towards the settler encampment, her remaining radishes clutched to her chest.
Ruth: While everyone else is meeting the Sergeant, Ruth approaches the smithy. The blacksmith quenches the hot sword in a barrel of water, causing a cloud of steam to rise up in front of Ruth. When it clears, the woman sets down her hammer, wipes her hands on her leather apron, and then nods in greeting. "Peace be upon you. How may I bless your day?" she asks in a thick foreign accent. Sweat from the steam and heat beads on her brow causing her dark hair to curl around the edges of her wide face.
I nod in greeting. "Er, well, actually," I pull my dagger out of its sheath and nervously fiddle with it. Finally drawing in one long breath I let my words out in a rush. "Me old dagger is getting pretty worn doon and I was wonderin' twhether ar not ye'd be able te fix it up fer me and aboot how much that'd cost?" I stop and hold out my dagger out toward her to show her.
Ruth: The blacksmith takes the dagger and examines it. Then she shakes her head sadly. "A thousand pardons. Though I could sharpen it for you, it would seem best to simply let this old friend pass on. I fear it has outlived it's usefulness. For only two gold, may I introduce you to a new companion with a bright strong blade?" She gestures to a rack of daggers.
As the party moves down the boardwalk and descends towards the docks, the strong smells of salt water, unwashed sailors, and fresh fish assault their noses. Voices raised in song fill the air, a song about the ocean's "harvest" sung by workers moving crates of fish from barges to the fishery buildings. In a row of strong folk in blood spattered aprons, each next to a wooden table, they work in tandem to the rhythm of the song, chopping and gutting the day's catch. Visible through the tall open double doors of the largest and newest looking building you can see the warehouse hosts several fishers selling their daily catches at stalls, and merchants who sell and repair fishing equipment.
"Be careful, you daft maggot's spawn!" A thick grumpy-looking dwarven woman wearing chain armor under her leathers, her almost orange hair wrapped in a thick braided crown, bellows at the operator of an enormous wooden crane. The crane operator flinches and slows the movement of the long arm as it swings a heavy wooden beam into place on the roof of another warehouse still under construction. His forearms strain pulling on a metal lever. She frowns, "If you wreck it and set back my schedule I'll use your thick head as a cornerstone!"
On the south side of the docks lie the barge yards. Six mud-covered barges are chained together and beached at the edge of Leilon where the town meets the marsh. A large sign reads, "Barge rentals. 10 gold per tenday. - R. Anvilhand"
"Oh, come noo" I reply. "I know a retired blade when I see one. You're just tryna get more money out o me than's proper. Tha's fine. I'll jus sharpen it meself then later." I bid her good day and jog over in the direction of my new friends.
This is a private group, invitation only.
Leilon, along the Sword Coast of Faerûn, was once a mining town that sold copper, nickel, and silver to Waterdeep. It was also a small port where merchants sometimes offloaded goods on barges (since most proper ships can’t traverse the town’s shallow mud flats) to be transported to cities all over the Sword Coast. The town has been abandoned for over a century since the time of the Spellplague, a divine phenomenon that twisted Faerûn’s magic, causing chaos across the land and this particular small town to be overrun. Now it is being rebuilt.
The half-finished palisade of Leilon will soon make a complete semicircle on the northeast side of the town, defended by an earthen rampart. To the southwest, new settlers attempt to build docks for barges, made to cross the marsh and meet merchant ships in the sea.
Outside of town, the settlers’ campground becomes ever smaller as new buildings made of wood or stone with thatched roofs are erected in Leilon’s muddy streets. At the center of it all, the New House of Thalivar, a cylindrical wizard tower, rises like a beacon, four times the height of every other building. Some lots still lie in ruins, but the settlers work quickly, clearing and reconstructing.
Visitors with coin to spend are welcome in Leilon, and adventurers are the settlers’ favorites. While there is much work to be done within the town, there are also missions to accomplish outside the settlement, listed on the job board at the fishery.
You have arrived together at the south gate in the afternoon on a fine sunny day. A newly formed band of adventurers, you are just entering the town square of Leilon which has become a place where local vendors and those passing through town can set up stalls to sell their wares. You see a Calishite blacksmith, her dark brown forearms rippling with muscles as she hammers a short sword in her open shop, a leather apron over her bright yellow vest and billowing purple pants. A wizened old man with a beard that comes to a long twisted point in the middle of his chest sits on a floating metal disc, his blue robes draping down over the sides. He hovers over a finely made but well-worn rug which is covered with scrolls. He is squinting at an unrolled scroll and making small marks with a large quill pen that seems to need no ink. Posted on the wall of a newly erected, conical-roofed shrine of Tymora, the goddess of Luck, you see a sign that reads "Puck's Potions". There are several townsfolk bustling about and a boney stray dog sniffing near the food stalls.
Describe/introduce your character briefly and what they are doing.
I arrive with my good friend Daphnie, eager to be on an adventure and see where the cryptic message received at the temple takes me. I introduce myself to the others as Irelyn. My skin is jade green, my ears pierced and pointy, my hair is black, my eyes blue green. I am calm and collected as I begin asking the others where they come from and why they are here.
I laughingly finish off what I hope will be my last sale and delivery for a very long time, telling the man at the pastry stand that I hope his son's new shoes take him on many grand adventures. With a smile, and shading my blue-reen eyes from the sun, I turn and walk toward the group of new adventurers. I catch the tail end of Irelyn's introduction and listen as everyone else shares about themselves. It's awkward to stand in my new leather armor and I wonder if I should ask the blacksmith to help me tune up my old dagger later when I realize that it's my turn to introduce myself. "Oh, sorry, I'm Ruth." I say, then, giving an awkward bow, I tuck my wispy nutmeg colored hair back into it's braid a little and head toward the smithy.
I flash a smile at the group. “I’m Garrett, it’s a pleasure to meet you all.” This is my first time on my own as an adventurer instead of a student, but I have the confidence of a seasoned traveler. My skin is lightly tanned, my eyes green and bright. My hand pushes the brown hair out of my face, revealing slightly pointed ears. “I’m from up north in Neverwinter, but it was getting a bit stuffy. Needed a change of pace, and I heard Leilon’s got plenty of work ready for us.” I take a look at the shrine of Tymora, curious to find out what kind of potions Puck can offer us.
The portly baker uses his apron to mop his brow beneath his brown bowl cut hair. His cheeks are a bit flushed from the warmth of the day, lending a rosy appearance to his smile as he waves a happy farewell at Ruth and then turns to place his son's new shoes into an empty crate behind him. He has almost sold out of the last of his wares for the day.
A little snub nosed girl, perhaps 8 years old, with a messy yellow braid down her back appears almost beneath Ruth and Irelyn's elbows, neither one noticing which direction she came from as they were busy chatting. She lifts up a small torn cloth in both hands. It's filled with small, slightly blackened, root vegetables. "Please, pretty ladies, buy some roasted radishes?" she asks in a hopeful little voice.
Garrett, looking a bit closer at the currently open entrance to the little shrine of Tymora, can see that inside the simple round chamber is a fountain with some sort of statue in the center. To the right of the fountain stands a lithe, silvery blonde haired male elf in long golden robes with his hand upon the head of a petitioner who is bowing in prayer. The young elf suddenly throws back his head in laughter and tosses a coin into the fountain. The petitioner, an older man with a care worn face, does the same, but follows the coin with his eyes hungrily before sighing and heading back out into the sunlight.
I gaze down a the young girl. She reminds me of the children that often wondered around in Neverwinter looking to earn a little coin in anyway possible. I immediately do a quick pat down of my pockets and coin bag to make sure nothing is missing.
While checking myself over I nod to Ruth, smile and say "nice to meet you!" I take note of the transaction of the shoes and wonder to myself if Ruth had made them, making a mental note to inquire about her skills later on.
Then turning to the girl I ask "how much for the radish?"
"Good afternoon, my name is Einkel," I say, as I nod curtly to the adventuring party. I am a 4 foot tall dwarf with dark hair and a long black beard. I am dressed in chain mail with a longsword at my hip and a shield strapped to my back. "I hail from baldur's gate. I am an anthropologist by profession, and I am interested in observing the new cultures and customs that will take form in this new iteration of Leilon."
The little girl smiles a gap-toothed smile. "5 coppers! I roasted 'em myself!" Her merry grin suddenly fades as her eyes widen and she backs away from Irelyn nervously. A tall man's shadow looms over them both. Einkel, Ruth, and Garrett watch as a big, dark-haired, human soldier in a chain shirt and shield decorated with the sigil of Neverwinter approaches the group and stops behind Irelyn.
"N-n-never mind, miss" the girl mumbles, still backing up.
The soldier bangs his spear hard against his shield, "Off with you now, rat!" he grumps sourly at the child. She jumps at the sound and falls over backward, spilling some of her precious radishes. The man turns to the group, eyeing them with a frown. "You the new adventurers? Took you long enough to arrive." He looks at Irelyn's green skin skeptically. "Not sure you'll do much, but that's not my place to say. I and my men serve on behalf of Neverwinter." He straightens a bit, turns, and spits on the ground next to Einkel's boot. "You lot were hired by the town council." He gestures with a bored look toward the ocean to the west. A wooden boardwalk runs down the embankment to the docks. "Go to the Fishery. Speak to the Growler." He smirks. "You'll hear her before you see her, most likely."
Neverwinter sigil on his shield
I pick up the radishes and dust them off, if the girl hasn't run away I will hand them back to her, if she has I'll add them to my backpack, glaring at the soldier the entire time either way. I'll look at the party and ask if their all ready? The head to the Fishery with the group.
I will also head to the fishery.
"Oh boy, fish! I love fish!" exclaims Daphnie as she dusts off her shell. She eyes the ground looking for any lost radishes to snack on.
I nod at the soldier. "Of course, of course. We'll head there right now. What's your name, by the way?" I will introduce myself to him and then follow the rest of the group to the Fishery. "What are the chances that someone named The Growler ends up being a sweet little lady?"
Ignoring Irelyn's glare and turning to answer the half elf, the soldier says, "Sargeant Hazz Yorrum, leader of the contingent at this backwater outpost." He spits again at Garret's self-introduction. "If the gods are merciful I'll have no need to remember your name. Do your best to avoid inconveniencing anyone doing real work here." Then he turns and saunters away.
The little girl thanks Irelyn, but looks at the dirty radishes sadly. She wipes off a tear and whispers to Irelyn, "You don't hafta be scared of him. He's mean to us kids 'cause we're littler than him. But he's not really brave at all. I think you and your friends look awfully strong and brave. And nice, too!" Then she rushes off towards the settler encampment, her remaining radishes clutched to her chest.
Ruth: While everyone else is meeting the Sergeant, Ruth approaches the smithy. The blacksmith quenches the hot sword in a barrel of water, causing a cloud of steam to rise up in front of Ruth. When it clears, the woman sets down her hammer, wipes her hands on her leather apron, and then nods in greeting. "Peace be upon you. How may I bless your day?" she asks in a thick foreign accent. Sweat from the steam and heat beads on her brow causing her dark hair to curl around the edges of her wide face.
I nod in greeting. "Er, well, actually," I pull my dagger out of its sheath and nervously fiddle with it. Finally drawing in one long breath I let my words out in a rush. "Me old dagger is getting pretty worn doon and I was wonderin' twhether ar not ye'd be able te fix it up fer me and aboot how much that'd cost?" I stop and hold out my dagger out toward her to show her.
Ruth: The blacksmith takes the dagger and examines it. Then she shakes her head sadly. "A thousand pardons. Though I could sharpen it for you, it would seem best to simply let this old friend pass on. I fear it has outlived it's usefulness. For only two gold, may I introduce you to a new companion with a bright strong blade?" She gestures to a rack of daggers.
As the party moves down the boardwalk and descends towards the docks, the strong smells of salt water, unwashed sailors, and fresh fish assault their noses. Voices raised in song fill the air, a song about the ocean's "harvest" sung by workers moving crates of fish from barges to the fishery buildings. In a row of strong folk in blood spattered aprons, each next to a wooden table, they work in tandem to the rhythm of the song, chopping and gutting the day's catch. Visible through the tall open double doors of the largest and newest looking building you can see the warehouse hosts several fishers selling their daily catches at stalls, and merchants who sell and repair fishing equipment.
"Be careful, you daft maggot's spawn!" A thick grumpy-looking dwarven woman wearing chain armor under her leathers, her almost orange hair wrapped in a thick braided crown, bellows at the operator of an enormous wooden crane. The crane operator flinches and slows the movement of the long arm as it swings a heavy wooden beam into place on the roof of another warehouse still under construction. His forearms strain pulling on a metal lever. She frowns, "If you wreck it and set back my schedule I'll use your thick head as a cornerstone!"
On the south side of the docks lie the barge yards. Six mud-covered barges are chained together and beached at the edge of Leilon where the town meets the marsh. A large sign reads, "Barge rentals. 10 gold per tenday. - R. Anvilhand"
I cautiously approach the dwarven woman and ask if she can spare a moment to direct us to the Growler?
"Oh, come noo" I reply. "I know a retired blade when I see one. You're just tryna get more money out o me than's proper. Tha's fine. I'll jus sharpen it meself then later." I bid her good day and jog over in the direction of my new friends.
While looking around Daphnie leans against the nearest wall just smelling the wonderful scent of the docks.
"Can you picture the temple with this much fresh fish with no work to get them, Irelyn?"
That would be the life, we would eat like royalty and be able to tend to the temple better!