Eltawin
Nestled where the Rodewin River disappears beneath the shadowed canopy of the Eltawin Forest, the town of Eltawin marks the threshold between the civilized south and the deep, haunted wild. It is the heart of the Eltawin Barony, a frontier holding that owes fealty to the Shekiac crown but survives largely through its own strength and vigilance. The river serves as its lifeblood—feeding its mills, carrying trade north to the Rikken Hills, and marking the last safe port before the forest swallows the light.
Eltawin’s streets are sturdy but somber: timber houses with steep roofs, ironbound shutters, and wards carved into lintels against the corruption that festers deeper within the woods. The townsfolk live hard lives—hunters, sawyers, charcoal burners, and ferrymen who know the forest’s moods better than any map. Each night, the town watch closes the gates, and torches burn until dawn.
The Baron of Eltawin keeps a fortified hall overlooking the river, his small garrison constantly stretched thin. Rumors persist that the baron’s line once bargained with infernal powers to hold this land, and that the forest itself remembers. The trees near the town sometimes bleed sap the color of rust, and the birds go silent when the wind shifts east.
Eltawin serves as both bastion and brink—a staging ground for expeditions into the Eltawin Forest, a haven for those fleeing its depths, or the last candlelight before corruption takes hold. Beneath its calm surface lies a place balanced between loyalty to Shekiac and quiet fear of the darkness that waits beyond the treeline.
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