Arkhandus
First Post
Harrowdale Town is a large town in the Dalelands of mid-northern Faerûn, lying along an arm of the Sea of Fallen Stars. While the Sea flanks Harrowdale Town to the east, a small plain flanks it to the west, the supposedly-haunted Cold Fields lie to its southwest, and the somewhat monster-infested Velarswood lies just north of town. Harrowdarrans make a steady but careful profit from Velarswood lumber, but stay clear of its deeper woods to avoid the aggressive beasts and giantkin that roam it.
Harrowdale Town is one of the oldest communities in the Dalelands, with some of its buildings dating back quite a ways, yet the port has grown in recent years, as Scardale's problems have turned nearby Harrowdale Town into a much more active and prosperous port-of-call on the Sea of Stars. Harrowdarrans have shed some of their rural country-folk image and mannerisms, as young men and women see the town grow into a busy port and welcome outsiders to do business. Harrowdarrans are generally cautious and like to plan ahead, using slow and steady methods instead of taking greater risks, and they do not much trust or appreciate workers of the Art.
This leaves the House of Mystra, a small and relatively new temple, with little business and few visitors among the locals, instead receiving more, but still infrequent, visits from travelers and adventurers. There is also a Temple of Oghma that is frequented by many locals, and the Temple of Tymora which has grown more popular with the expanding trade in Harrowdale Town's port. At the edge of town is the burnt-out ruin of Halvan's Keep, a castle built by the town's former tyrant, which is shunned by the townsfolk. Harrowdale Town is lead by the Council of Seven Burghers, the wealthiest Harrowdarrans.
All of this is common knowledge to you by the time you arrive in Harrowdale Town, traveling across the Dalelands for your own reasons. Some of you arrive with a recent caravan delivering spices, construction tools, and metal ore for local smithies. Others are here looking for opportunity in the growing port town. It is just past noon on the 27th of Eleasis, Highsun, late summer in 1372 DR, the Year of Wild Magic.
Western Gate Plaza
Evanar Brewerson, a human lad, and Storn Horn, a doughty dwarf, stride into town alongside the caravan of Evanar's uncle Niles, bringing in trade goods to feed Harrowdale Town's need for tools and raw materials to build up the port. Evanar is huffing and puffing, welcome for the rest after Uncle Niles felt eager to rush the caravan the rest of the way to Harrowdale Town, as soon as they got within sight of it. Storn is enjoying the hearty exercise of the double-time march, feeling invigorated after days of slow and fairly dull marching. Not even a single bandit or goblin crossed the caravan's path on this trip, making for a bored yet peaceful journey.
Niles' caravan stops briefly in the wide plaza past the western gate, just in front of the western market, and he calls out "Alright men, you can take a break now and enjoy your pay! The boys and I'll take care of business here."
Just as a few mercenaries are walking off towards the taverns, William Fayne approaches the western gate plaza from the south. Fayne had been wandering town for a day or two now, looking for something to do now that he's this far from home and can't go back. He needed some way to get food and shelter, though he had coin enough for awhile.
Ship fare was expensive, though. Unless Fayne spent most of his remaining coin for another trip, he'd be staying in Harrowdale Town or hoofing it overland to someplace else. He could survive for months on what he had left, probably, but he'd need to find a job or a decent score by then, and something to pass the time. He wasn't familiar with the local constabulary, though; just how tight-fisted these foreigners might be with their gold or how tough their laws, he wasn't entirely sure. For that matter, he wasn't even sure who the local criminal elements were. So what to do....?
Northern Gate Plaza
Abde'Ragman Zaliman, the young Calishite, is taking a breather near the northern gate of Harrowdale Town, as merchants haggle with customers a few yards away in the northern market. His traveling companions, his mother, were dead; he knew it. His caravan was lost, probably already emptied by the bandits and left to burn near the edge of the Velarswood.
He was just finally beginning to calm down and muster the will to stop grieving, at least for now. Surely he couldn't sit there forever. A few Harrowdarrans cast piteous glances at the weeping Calishite. The small toad resting on his shoulder tried to console him with upbeat ribbits, but usually just felt the grief emanating from Abde'Ragman and burped out long, sorrowful croaks.
Selua Lythari, a wood elven maiden, seems a little down herself as she walks out of the northern market into the plaza, idly eating the last of her lunch but not really enjoying it. It had been a few days since she was lead into Harrowdale Town, and she was still feeling a bit numb. Her mule stands by indifferently, tied to a nearby post and watching the passing and fretting humans with simple-minded apathy.
At the same time, the young sun elfess Abrielle Elaéyadar is eating lunch at the edge of the northern market square, in view of the northern gate's plaza. She sips at her tea and watches the townsfolk, as she sits at a table outside a small diner. It didn't even qualify as a tavern. She's been in Harrowdale Town for about a week now, playing tunes in the market squares and taverns to earn her room and board thus far.
Abrielle is fairly certain that she's played in half the taverns of Harrowdale Town already, but then, it is just a large town, after all, not one of the great cities of Evermeet. No, this was a far more modest and humble town, with simple and functional architecture, only a few buildings of limited beauty making this place anything more than quaint. And those few buildings were of elven design, anyhow. At least there was a lot going on here, yet it was well far enough from Evermeet that nobody'd look for her here.
(OOC: If you have anything to say out of character, put it in the OOC thread that was once the recruiting thread, or post it here in spoiler blocks. Ask in the other thread if you don't know how to put text into spoiler blocks.)
Harrowdale Town is one of the oldest communities in the Dalelands, with some of its buildings dating back quite a ways, yet the port has grown in recent years, as Scardale's problems have turned nearby Harrowdale Town into a much more active and prosperous port-of-call on the Sea of Stars. Harrowdarrans have shed some of their rural country-folk image and mannerisms, as young men and women see the town grow into a busy port and welcome outsiders to do business. Harrowdarrans are generally cautious and like to plan ahead, using slow and steady methods instead of taking greater risks, and they do not much trust or appreciate workers of the Art.
This leaves the House of Mystra, a small and relatively new temple, with little business and few visitors among the locals, instead receiving more, but still infrequent, visits from travelers and adventurers. There is also a Temple of Oghma that is frequented by many locals, and the Temple of Tymora which has grown more popular with the expanding trade in Harrowdale Town's port. At the edge of town is the burnt-out ruin of Halvan's Keep, a castle built by the town's former tyrant, which is shunned by the townsfolk. Harrowdale Town is lead by the Council of Seven Burghers, the wealthiest Harrowdarrans.
All of this is common knowledge to you by the time you arrive in Harrowdale Town, traveling across the Dalelands for your own reasons. Some of you arrive with a recent caravan delivering spices, construction tools, and metal ore for local smithies. Others are here looking for opportunity in the growing port town. It is just past noon on the 27th of Eleasis, Highsun, late summer in 1372 DR, the Year of Wild Magic.
Western Gate Plaza
Evanar Brewerson, a human lad, and Storn Horn, a doughty dwarf, stride into town alongside the caravan of Evanar's uncle Niles, bringing in trade goods to feed Harrowdale Town's need for tools and raw materials to build up the port. Evanar is huffing and puffing, welcome for the rest after Uncle Niles felt eager to rush the caravan the rest of the way to Harrowdale Town, as soon as they got within sight of it. Storn is enjoying the hearty exercise of the double-time march, feeling invigorated after days of slow and fairly dull marching. Not even a single bandit or goblin crossed the caravan's path on this trip, making for a bored yet peaceful journey.
Niles' caravan stops briefly in the wide plaza past the western gate, just in front of the western market, and he calls out "Alright men, you can take a break now and enjoy your pay! The boys and I'll take care of business here."
Just as a few mercenaries are walking off towards the taverns, William Fayne approaches the western gate plaza from the south. Fayne had been wandering town for a day or two now, looking for something to do now that he's this far from home and can't go back. He needed some way to get food and shelter, though he had coin enough for awhile.
Ship fare was expensive, though. Unless Fayne spent most of his remaining coin for another trip, he'd be staying in Harrowdale Town or hoofing it overland to someplace else. He could survive for months on what he had left, probably, but he'd need to find a job or a decent score by then, and something to pass the time. He wasn't familiar with the local constabulary, though; just how tight-fisted these foreigners might be with their gold or how tough their laws, he wasn't entirely sure. For that matter, he wasn't even sure who the local criminal elements were. So what to do....?
Northern Gate Plaza
Abde'Ragman Zaliman, the young Calishite, is taking a breather near the northern gate of Harrowdale Town, as merchants haggle with customers a few yards away in the northern market. His traveling companions, his mother, were dead; he knew it. His caravan was lost, probably already emptied by the bandits and left to burn near the edge of the Velarswood.
He was just finally beginning to calm down and muster the will to stop grieving, at least for now. Surely he couldn't sit there forever. A few Harrowdarrans cast piteous glances at the weeping Calishite. The small toad resting on his shoulder tried to console him with upbeat ribbits, but usually just felt the grief emanating from Abde'Ragman and burped out long, sorrowful croaks.
Selua Lythari, a wood elven maiden, seems a little down herself as she walks out of the northern market into the plaza, idly eating the last of her lunch but not really enjoying it. It had been a few days since she was lead into Harrowdale Town, and she was still feeling a bit numb. Her mule stands by indifferently, tied to a nearby post and watching the passing and fretting humans with simple-minded apathy.
At the same time, the young sun elfess Abrielle Elaéyadar is eating lunch at the edge of the northern market square, in view of the northern gate's plaza. She sips at her tea and watches the townsfolk, as she sits at a table outside a small diner. It didn't even qualify as a tavern. She's been in Harrowdale Town for about a week now, playing tunes in the market squares and taverns to earn her room and board thus far.
Abrielle is fairly certain that she's played in half the taverns of Harrowdale Town already, but then, it is just a large town, after all, not one of the great cities of Evermeet. No, this was a far more modest and humble town, with simple and functional architecture, only a few buildings of limited beauty making this place anything more than quaint. And those few buildings were of elven design, anyhow. At least there was a lot going on here, yet it was well far enough from Evermeet that nobody'd look for her here.
(OOC: If you have anything to say out of character, put it in the OOC thread that was once the recruiting thread, or post it here in spoiler blocks. Ask in the other thread if you don't know how to put text into spoiler blocks.)
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