Approfonde
Approfonde, the quiet capital. Bulbous, misshapen buildings rise from the ground, carefully braced with wood. The wintery grasses sway in the whistling wind, ancient swifts flying overhead. They see children quietly playing, merchants silently selling. In their crates and their wagons are items from the strange roads out of the town. Twisted bottles, artifacts telling of the “one true god,” and ornate pan flutes all engraved with the names of grand artisans known across the land.
In the farms are fields of a brown-red leaves and pudgy deer. Gatherers, as plentiful as the the harvest itself, tend to the fields, smiling and joking with strangers and friends alike. Lighthearted guards stand watch for any fox-hogs, shooing them off with a sudden mad dash. The townsfolk make jest of it, pointing and laughing. Of course, they get their moment too, being startled by the black, shining shells of beetles flying about. Their joy spreads like a plague, their giggling reaching the ears of the pub’s open windows.
Adventurers share their wild tales there, speaking of forgotten crevices, mighty iron, and wondrous sites across the land. They share their accounts of the red, powerful fish to the north, and how they left their poles and spears snapped in two. They share their stories of the bizarre lore of cities far out, children and gatherers sitting in awe. They share a drink, clinking the sweet wine mugs without a care, for the most part. Perhaps a few had seen things they would rather forget.
Perhaps they stumbled upon a family, accursed with the gift of magic. Their lives never the same, hunted by maniacs and unknowing of their own strength. Perhaps they stumbled across a beast, snarling and strange things not meant for these lands. Some so legendary, so venerable and undying that even the carnage they create is worth iron trusts. Worse yet, perhaps they stumbled across nations. Blades drawn, arrows nocked, and bandages prepared as the two wait out the tense showdown. Either side could be hostile, either side could be the end of an adventurer. It could simply be two patrols brushing against each other, or it could be an espionage stopped in its tracks. It could be another quiet, hollow day, or it could be the start of a conflict spanning countries. Thousands of lives lost, countless scarred from the carnage they have seen. Indeed, it is rumoured that some people, some entire nations have not yet recovered from the previous war hundreds of years before. It is rumoured that some have never returned from it.
Alas, it seems like so many of the beast-eared folk of this place still crave adventure. They swallow their fear and light their flame, delving deep into what the world has to offer. Some might even claim that without them, Approfonde wouldn’t be the the thriving nation it is today. It definitely wouldn’t be as quiet as it is.