Vera
Vera Wolny, the Innkeeper
Vera, the innkeeper of the Miller's Arms, carries the warm glow of her hearth in her smile and the strength of the local brew in her gaze. Since her husband Jaryk passed, she's been the linchpin of the inn, her resilience as much a staple as the ale she pours.
Her eldest son Jakob has been groomed to take on the family business when he comes of age. Last autumn Jakob was conscripted into The Borderguard, and barring misfortune will return in his 22nd year. Until then Vera continues to keep the Inn running alone. Her younger son, Heinrik, has recently begun to walk the path of craftsmanship under the tutelage of Egon, the village blacksmith, his youthful ambition stoking the fires of village pride. Her two daughters, Emila and Amalia, are as much a part of the inn's charm as the worn wooden tables and the comforting aroma of stew simmering in the background. The twins move with an otherworldly grace, adding to the whispers of fae heritage that dance through the village.
The Miller's Arms is more than just an inn—it's a pulsing heart of the village, a cozy den where secrets are whispered over frothing mugs and deals are struck in hushed tones. Vera, with an innate knack for knowing when to refill a glass or leave a table to its secrets, has turned it into a nexus of news and whispers, earning the trust and affection of travelers and townsfolk alike. The inn itself holds more than just stories; its very foundation is steeped in tales that the walls, if they could talk, would spin for days. Beneath the lively banter and the clinking of glasses, there lies a subtle undercurrent, a hidden layer to Vera’s world that, like the cellar below, is kept out of sight, its existence known only to a select few who understand the true meaning of sanctuary.
Her eldest son Jakob has been groomed to take on the family business when he comes of age. Last autumn Jakob was conscripted into The Borderguard, and barring misfortune will return in his 22nd year. Until then Vera continues to keep the Inn running alone. Her younger son, Heinrik, has recently begun to walk the path of craftsmanship under the tutelage of Egon, the village blacksmith, his youthful ambition stoking the fires of village pride. Her two daughters, Emila and Amalia, are as much a part of the inn's charm as the worn wooden tables and the comforting aroma of stew simmering in the background. The twins move with an otherworldly grace, adding to the whispers of fae heritage that dance through the village.
The Miller's Arms is more than just an inn—it's a pulsing heart of the village, a cozy den where secrets are whispered over frothing mugs and deals are struck in hushed tones. Vera, with an innate knack for knowing when to refill a glass or leave a table to its secrets, has turned it into a nexus of news and whispers, earning the trust and affection of travelers and townsfolk alike. The inn itself holds more than just stories; its very foundation is steeped in tales that the walls, if they could talk, would spin for days. Beneath the lively banter and the clinking of glasses, there lies a subtle undercurrent, a hidden layer to Vera’s world that, like the cellar below, is kept out of sight, its existence known only to a select few who understand the true meaning of sanctuary.
