Though it is only early autumn in the Northmarches, a chill already falls over Esterwyn as the sun begins to dip down towards the horizon. As the light retreats from the sky, so too do the inhabitants retreat from their crofts and workshops to join with their fellows and families within the safety of the town's high palisade walls. The town, the only of its kind for several dozen miles in any direction, stands as a beacon for all those who find themselves on the lengthy stretches of rolling wilderness that are Andova's northernmost province. The patchwork of fields and pastures that feeds into the town grows thicker as one approachs from the south or east, a testament to the working folk who labor to maintain their way of way on the harsh frontier. To the north, the Frostback mountains loom heavy, the flat lands growing hilly and wild as they stretched towards the rocky barriers which had undoubtedly halted the advance of settlers in the region. To the west, just over the town's local river, a dense thicket of forest, largely untouched, stands just as ominous; centuries old oaths with the native fey ensure even Andovan expansionism has no place beyond the waterfront.
Despite its isolation, Esterwyn's place at the edge of the world proves to be one of its most attractive features. All sorts of people, from optimistic settlers to daring adventures come from every corner of the empire, to establish homes and reputations alike. As cook fires blanket the crisp air around town with the sweet smell of cedar, many of these new faces find their ways home...
PoVsCrosses the River (Mashugana)Spoiler (click to show/hide):
You had known of Esterwyn's existence for quite some time. With how few genuine towns there are in the north, it's hard not to remember their names, usually brought to the tribe by the odd trader looking for pelts, or the scouts like yourself. But hearing and seeing are entirely different matters; you can't recall witnessing so many people gathered into one place at one time. It's hard to tell in exact numbers, but there must be thousands of people packed into the perimeter walls, to say nothing of those who live outside the walls in hamlets and villages that you're more familiar with. It's hard to believe this is considered to be insignificant compared to the proper cities much further south, where tens to hundreds of thousands live together. Joining the flow of crofters and herdsmen as they file their way through the gates, you find yourself swept up in the hustle and bustle of this strange new place. The roads are lined with homes and businesses, people going in and out with arms full of this good or that, each with their own purposes and agendas.
You can't help but wonder how well your own people would adapt to this kind of life, separated from the wilds that sustained them by nothing more than a few sharpened logs, yet so fundamentally changed by that separation. It's something you don't exactly have time to think on for too long, as you soon feel a series of taps on your back. Turning to face the source would reveal a blonde woman, her messy golden locks pulled back into a ponytail so that only her bangs framed her face. Tamed as it is, the mane does little to hide the pointed ears that poke prominently out from her head: it seems she's an elf, although the fact that she isn't taller than you, along with her more rounded facial features makes you think her elven ancestry might be diluted by some humanity. She gives you a friendly smile, her green eyes glimmering in the dying sunlight.
"You look lost. New in town?" She asks innocently enough.
Raagen Morcaryn (kermitphrogg)Spoiler (click to show/hide):
Your journey to the Northmarches was certainly a wake up call, if your previous forays into adventuring work had not been; the isolation of the region meant that you had to spend many a night sleeping rough on the roads leading north, which only became less and less well maintained as you got further out. The occasional roadside inn or accommodating homesteader gave you reprieve from the worst of the elements here and there, but never enough to make the sight of Esterwyn anything less than a blessing. Hurriedly along by the thought of a nice, soft bed to sleep in under a warm roof, the silhouette of the town only grew and grew as the sun shrunk, your arrival coinciding with sundown. The town itself is rather populous for somewhere so far beyond civilization, dashing any hopes that you would find respite and solitude away from the more populated regions of the empire. Not that you would have had the opportunity even if Esterwyn proved itself to be a charming little outpost, as your mission to track down an old family friend was the entire purpose for visiting such an inhospitable land.
It was a miracle you had even managed to track him to Esterwyn. The man did not make himself easy to find, with only a stray rumor from some previous companions that he had headed north a year or two ago on business and not returned south since. Finding him here at the edge of the world would be difficult, especially with how rangers tended to be in regions of vast wilderness. Still, concerns for his whereabouts would have to come later. For now, you had to figure out where you would be lodging. Any town of relative size had several inns and taverns, but asking a few questions among the locals always circled back to one in particular: The Laughing Bull. It was the largest and best known, apparently built early in the town's history by an adventurer who had helped in its foundation.
Indeed, as you navigate your way to the town's main market square, it sits imposingly to the south east, a looming four story building of stone and timber. Locals filtering in for a night of merriment. Popular as it is, perhaps it would serve both your purposes, a source of information and comfort.
Lula Bucker (LazyKitsune)Spoiler (click to show/hide):
There's some exhilarating about the north that has made the long journey through its rolling hills and dense forests seem to fly by. Every day you're met with new scenic vistas, witness new wildlife, and occasionally meet interesting strangers: you had never so much as seen an actual bear living back with your mother, but just two days prior you had met two bearmen on the way to Esterwyn! It had been several weeks since setting sail for one of the empire's most remote towns, all in the hopes of tracking down one of your father's supposed associates; Amara Blackthorn. By your estimations, the town itself was only a day or two away now, and the thought of finally arriving at a new port only set your feet into a frenzy as you traveled the worn dirt roads that were the Northmarches' arteries. As the sun began to sink down behind the far off horizon, though, it became obvious that you likely wouldn't reach town before nightfall.
Living on the road was no issue for an adventurer such as yourself, however, and so instead of bemoaning the flow of time, the item of the hour became finding a good place to camp out for the night. If you had a sharp eye, you could find the occasional bend in the road that offered good protection from the elements, or a nice little patch of woodlands to hunker down in for a night. Then you could set up a fire, get some grub, and huddle in for a good night's rest. Of course, there was little reason to make your own camp when you came across another on the road, and lo-and-behold, such a camp was just off in the distance! In the growing twilight, it was easy enough to spot a campfire crackling among the mostly empty meadows that straddled either side of the road. It seemed the inhabitants even had the sense to set up their camp against one of the cairns that dotted these rural northern roads, the stacked stones acting as a windbreak to keep the chill at bay.
There was always the option to go at it alone, but who could resist dropping anchor and getting to know some of the locals? Besides, the road was lonely enough without a crew to call your own.
Penelope Delights (Mark3000)Spoiler (click to show/hide):
The arrival of your party at Esterwyn brought with it a massive sense of relief. You volunteered to join the group of eight men from the Fangs who were assigned a task in the region, to assist a client in spelunking some old, druidic ruins off in the woods near town. It was your first real assignment, a proper job where you could show off your skills and prove yourself to the men of the company that you were more than just a pair of tits with a few holes to fill. Of course, this meant traveling through the wilds with those same men for at least a week, and they had not made your life easy. Between the raunchy remarks, the occasional slaps on the ass and at least one incident involving a suspiciously creamy bowl of stew, the harassment had become nearly unbearable. Now in town, you would have an opportunity to break from the group for some privacy and a much needed respite from their remarks before the job began in earnest.
The leader of your company was a man not much older than yourself, Arden Greenfeld, himself a son of one of the company's lieutenants. Unlike yourself, his mother wasn't a camp follower, and so he was afforded much more respect; enough respect that he was given seniority over yourself and the others, something he had not let you forget since leaving camp. The smug, sandy blond bastard had decided the company would be lodging at the town's finest inn, a towering building called The Laughing Bull. As your rowdy companions filed in through the door, you're met with the familiar sight of a well-kept tavern. The common room is rather expansive, built from finely cut stone that helps keep the heat from the roaring hearth in its center from leaking out. Long tables line the walls, and smaller, rounder ones dot the center, many of them filled with townsfolk and others with the rougher sort like yourself. There's a long bar along the eastern wall, which empties back into what must be a kitchen, based off the lovely smells wafting from the open door. A rather tall brunette mans the counter, the horns jutting from her forehead and her large stature marking her as a Minos, although she sports the softer build of one who hasn't lived the life of a tribal in quite some time, if ever.
"Go talk with your fellow cow and get us something to drink," Jeers Arden over the merriment of the patrons, a familiar hand coming to clap you across the ass. "Else we might have to find something else to drink from."
Eliza Asara (Lorielle)Spoiler (click to show/hide):
The Northmarches, in their remoteness, proved themselves to be an adequate test of your faith. You had spent many a night sleeping rough on the roads that connected what little civilization there was on the frontier, all on your journey to the town of Esterwyn, where you could begin in earnest the your quest for the Crown. Its whereabouts were largely unknown, its last possessor having gone missing out in the wilds decades prior to your initiation. Tracking its location and winning it back from whatever fate befell its owner would put your knightly virtues to the test, and the ability to finally prove yourself every bit the paladin as your fellows gave you heart even in the face of another cold night. As daylight began to fade, your journey was cut short an hour or so before normal. Not by fatigue, in the case of some nights, but by a cry of distress.
The source didn't seem especially far off, and as you hurry down the path and round a hilly bend in the trail, you come upon it in the fading light of the evening. A carriage sits upon the road, the horses that once pulled it dashing off into the horizon. They leave in their wake smaller, but much more dangerous, several large wolves circling the wagon. Perched precariously atop it must be the rider, a small green woman by the looks of things, who swats ineffectually at her attackers with what must be a broom. She yelps as one of the predators heft itself up on its hind legs and plants its forelimbs against the side, rocking the entire vehicle back and forth as it snarls at the would-be prey atop it. It's incredibly unusual for wolves to be so aggressive towards travelers, diminutive size or not, but the circumstances don't change a thing: this woman is in mortal peril, and you're the only soul around to help!
