Skyleaf

Meaning “brave or bold adventurer” in elven, this headquarters for the Adventurer’s Guild of Skyleaf appears to be made up of a hodgepodge of architectural styles. The decor is a mish-mash of artifacts from all over the globe that decorate the walls of this building that climbs four stories into the sky- each floor appearing to have been added ad-hoc when the group of adventurers within had outgrown the available space. The walls inside this space are covered in artifacts and weapons that have become rusted or dulled from time and disuse.

Meaning “good health” in Elven, this is one of the top medical facilities in the city. Utilizing some of the most state-of-the-art technologies and magical methodologies, this hospital works at the highest of standards to protect the health of the city’s citizens.

Housed inside a large oak tree that is easily 30 feet in diameter, the entrance to this Inn is hidden behind a door made of natural wood and bark. A sign swings from the side of the tree over this door that reads, “enne Métima Mélamar”. Inside is a grand foyer illuminated by purple, orange, and yellow fungus that seems to grow naturally. A wide array of Elven artwork and tapestry line the walls and a beautiful rug extends to a desk to the far wall, to the right of which is a large set of spiral stairs that appear to rise up through the tree you’re standing in. A desk here takes coats, robes, and shoes as you make yourself at home. The winding steps travel multiple stories before coming to a landing high up in the branches, opening up into a stunning floor plan of a tavern. Lit by the same fungus you seen in the entryway, patrons can be seen lounging in cushioned chairs and sofas eating meals, drinking from small, intricately-carved wooden cups, telling stories, and laughing at the stories their companions tell.

Meaning “overseer” in Elven, this old windmill towers over the canopy of trees surrounding it. Nestled neatly on the top of a hill overlooking Ancestor’s Refuge, this dark, faded blue windmill displays that it was once an elegant, deep steel blue. The large blades of the mill creak as a slight breeze causes them to turn, even though they are in a state of disrepair. Thick vines and flowers have grown into the thatched blades, giving it a natural, if functionally unsound, beauty. A simple wooden door with steel banding sits on the southeast edge. A few windows speckle the exterior, but are so fogged over with dust, they appear opaque from this distance. Inside the abandoned mill is a thick layer of dust and it’s space is now mostly used for storage. Especially in the basement, which also houses a bookcase leading to a narrow secret passage that leads to a cave system deep below the hill upon which this mill rests. This basement was once the site of a demon summoning ceremony that resulted in the death of Nebsar Gourdengnome when the demon was banished back to it’s plane while grappling the gnomish wizard.

A black wrought-iron archway can be seen from the southern edge of Ancestor’s Refuge. Woven into the archway are branches full of beautiful flowers. The branches form the words “Milpiada Lara” which translates to “Olive Branch” in Elven. memorials to lost loved ones come in various shapes and sizes and are scattered around the grounds. At the far end of the cemetery stand two large mausoleums. In between them grows a tree with twisted trunk, long silvery leaves, and a vast crown that towers 40 feet high. The mausoleum to the west contains the family crest of the Amastacia’s. The mausoleum to the east contains the family crest of the Wynsidors.

A smiling half-orc woman wearing a stained apron looks out at you over the display of freshly-baked goods. She wears a smudge of flour on her cheek and a wide smile. “Hello friends,” she says in a soft voice, “my name is Delilah- could I interest you in one of my home baked goods?” In the case in front of her are a variety of scones, small maple cakes, stacks of sweet rolls, and trays of hard cookies that have been decorated with nuts and dried fruits.

A young elf man sits on a simple stool with his head down in deep concentration. When he notices you in his peripheral vision, he quickly looks up and offers a broad grin. “Hello friends! Welcome! My name is Gabriel! Can I offer you anything? Scattered on the table in front of him are various carvings of figurines, rag dolls, and wooden knives. You can now see that, in one hand, he holds a small knife and, in the other, the beginnings of a wooden bird.

A rather round human man wearing an apron with various green, pink, and yellow stains, looks over his selection of barrels at you. Even at this point in the day, sweat can be seen dripping down the bald man’s pate as he offers a crooked smile at you. “Hey there. You look like you could use a snack. Friends call me Pickled Pete- what can I get for ya’s?”

The titular Heini, a slim human man with big ears, stands behind a large case from which are emanating a strange mix of strong odors. “Um, hello” he begins shyly, looking down momentarily for a break from the eye contact, allowing a curly red lock to fall across his eyes. “Could I offer you a sample of my wares, perhaps?”

Behind the table in this small stall sits a grouchy looking dwarven man. His long grey beard still has some streaks of black that his left hand strokes slowly. He glares over the table at you with one eye, as the other is covered by a heavy eye patch. Even though he presents a visually threatening façade, the smell here is simply delightful. After waiting a single moment, he hollers over his table at you, “Well…are you here to taste me nuts, or what?”

A young, skinny elven woman with long blonde hair and striking green eyes, makes her way around a rack of gowns when she sees you coming towards her wares. She wears a stunning evening gown made of emerald green silks and ivory lace. “Could I assist any of you in purchasing an elven formal gown made with traditional fabrics and techniques?”

The name of this shop translates roughly to “soul bottle” in Elven. Various glass bottles of every shape and size are scattered around this large shop. An elderly elvish woman holds herself up with a short wooden cane with pride as she smiles at you over her bottles, traditionally used for decoration or for storing the ashes and/or souls of loved ones that are then hung from the trees in Ancestor’s Refuge during Nostari Merendë, the Legacy Celebration festival.