Volume I, Number 1	April/May 1999
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Feature - Arylon Interview with Kimberly Moser of the Arylon Council. As part of the Arylon feature in this issue, the Council has provided us with two guided tours to their city. The first one is by Erskine Fincher (fincher2@nettally.com) A tall, burly, red-headed man steps out of the River Wench. Wiping the beer foam from his coarse whiskers, he casts a furtive glance both ways up and down River Street. His face is bright red, his muscled arms are freckled, and his ample girth is restrained by a black tunic belted at the waist. An uncouth dock hand is your first guess, but then you see that he's wearing the livery of the Silver Crescents. His eyes stop when they get to you, and his face lights up. "Well, top of the day to ye stranger. I've nae seen ye down 'ere in the Dock Ward afore. What brings ye 'ere? "A tour of the city? Sure'n ye've come to the right place then. I knows all about the Dock Ward. Mind ye it's no where near as bad as Calimport er Waterdeep, places I've seen the hind end of in me younger days. Still, Arylon's got it's seamy side to be sure. "I patrols the streets for the Silver Crescents. Sgt Phyrgys McGhilliegh be me name, but me friends just calls me Mac. I knows the town from stem to stern, port and starboard, but the part from River Gate to Sunrise Gate below the wall be me specialty. The docks, where mule skinners, rafters, and drovers come to drink and to fight, that's where I can be found most nights. I lets 'em drink, and if they be after fightin' I oblige 'em there as well." His face cracks in a grin, and you can see that he's missing a few teeth. "There's not much 'arm in 'em, mostly." His face darkens a little, "occasionally we get a thief in our midst that thinks it sportin' to lift a man's purse while 'e's in 'is cups, or slip a dagger in 'is back for fun, but I knows how to take care of them." He grins again, but this time there's an almost predatory look in his face that makes you shudder. Returning to his cheerful disposition he asks, "well, what are ye after see'n' first, hey? How about we go into the River Wench 'ere for a pint, I was just on me way in... Nae? Well, a walk down along the river sounds fine, to be sure." Stepping with you out into the street he begins to point out various sites and keeps up a running commentary as you walk along. "Back up there towards Trade Gate is the Rivergate community. Started out to be some sort o' humans-only club, but ended up as a bunch of run-down tenements. Not a nice place fer a youngster like yerself to be at night. "That road there is Cemetary Road. It leads up through River Gate to Paradise Portals, but that be the last place I want to go... Har! Get it...? It's the cemetary... last place? "Urhrum! Well, anyway on up the road east o' the gate would be a very nice establishment known as the Silver Lady. 'Tis owned by the lady that runs the orphanage, and a lot of nice young lasses be workin' there. Running a uh- tavern is a dangerous business and I try to keep an eye on them, and help them out if they need it. "This place crost the street 'ere is K&K Karriages owned by one Abee Khazook. 'E's a Bad'un, or some such, from Anauroch. Pretty nice feller, though, if ye be askin' me. You walk past rows of merchant houses and warehouses without a break in the monologue until you come upon a gap in the buildings on the river side of the road. Here there's what's left of a burned out building, blackened stones, old rotted timbers, a broken chimney-. Mac falls silent for a moment, and then says in a quiet voice. "The Friend o' the Merchant. 'Twas a temple to Waukeen - burned down durin' the Time o' Troubles, it did." He looks at you closely and asks, "have ye ever seen a ghost? They say this place be haunted, and I'm fer agreein with 'em. I seen the ghost meself one night while walkin' home from Runedar's." His eyes light up suddenly, "ah, Runedar's! Now that be a fine pub. It's just up the street here, come along and I'll introduce you to their Diamond Stout! "What- ? Oh, that's Broda's Freight Hauling. They don't sell ale there. Nothin' but a bunch of wagons and sweaty drivers. Not a bad crowd 'less they be sober. "That road there be Promenade Street. It'll take ye up through Promenade Gate and right to the Hall o' Justice. Many's the drunken bar fighter I've hauled up that road, ye'd think there'd be grooves in it from their boots draggin' crost the cobblestones. Heh! "There be a half-orc up that way that'll cut yer hair fer ye, and leave ye yer head, what's more. I've been waitin' fer 'im to take that razor of his to some poor sod's neck, but 'e's kept 'is nose clean so far. Got some of the rich lady folk up in Inner Ward lettin' 'im cut their hair, if ye can believe it. 'Twas a time when folks in Arylon woulda kilt one of his kind on sight, and now they let 'im cut hair right in the middle of the city! "Beyond 'im, west o' the gate there is the Greenleaf Tavern. 'Tis a very repectable place," he says with a touch of bitterness in his voice. "They don't abide singin' in the common room, 'less'n ye be a paid hand at it. I was asked to leave one night. I wasn't particularly willin' to go, but a few of my friends in the Crescents persuaded me." He strokes his nose thoughtfully while he speaks, and you notice that it's slightly out of kilter as if it's been broken once or twice. "I don't begrudge 'em their rules, though. Sure'n I didn't mean any harm by singin' but sometimes when the mood hits me I can't help meself." He shows you his snaggle-toothed grin again and leads you on down the street. Approaching a wooden building by the river he points it out and begins to tell you, "Now this man here be the best friend and most hated enemy of every poor sod who ever sipped a pint. 'Tis a pawn shop he's runnin' - yer best friend when yer thirsty and sorely in need of a drink, and yer worst enemy when yer tryin' to get Mama's ring outta hock afore she discovers it be missin'." He chuckles ruefully. "Many's the would-be adventurer who's set out on the road with his dreams and his backpack, just to end up in Arylon with all his dreams bent towards the next pint o' ale, and his backpack on the shelf of Dernik's pawn shop." You reach a fork in the road, and Mac comes to halt. "This fork takes ye on up to Hill Street through the gate to Madanae Sangh. That's the Silver Crescent headquarters. A fine bunch of gentlemen, and it's good to me they've been. I've seen the law from both sides, ye might say. They took me in, though, and gave me a place among 'em. Mind ye they put me in a place where I was sure to fit in, down 'ere in the Dock Ward and all. 'Twas more than I might've expected, though, and they did give me back me stripes after that incident at the Greenleaf, so I've got much to thank 'em fer." Two young boys with fishing poles run past headed towards the river. "Hey there Lads! Ye best be getting' back to the schoolhouse afore Lady Kethry comes after ye with 'er horse whip!" The boys just laugh at him and keep runnin'. "Ah," he sighs, "she'd skin the man alive who lifted a hand against them kids o' hers, but she spoils the little brats rotten. They'd best stay away from that water, though. That river leads to the sea, and one day they'll be after followin' it. No man can look on the sea without it pullin' at 'is soul. Sure'n don't I know it?" You look up at the building that he's stopped in front of and see a sign that says "Rundedar". Mac points to the opposite side of the road from the pub and says, "Now over here is a nice wine shop, if you like that sort of thing. It's called Silvershadow Exotic Wines, but me, I be likin' yer everyday dark brew like what Runedar's here sells. If ye continue down River Street here ye'll soon pass by Ereval which is like the dwarven quarter only it has half-elves. Course, they be nothin' like dwarves 'cept fer the fact they all be livin' in the same place. Over there too, ye'll be findin' a place called the Halls o' Harmony and Cheer. 'Tis a fine place to go and hear a song. "If it's cheer ye be after, though, Rundedar's is really the place. Come to think on it, I believe Delgyn still has me squeeze box from the last time I held a concert here. I'm gettin' the urge to do a little singin'. Perhaps ye'll join me, and I'll teach ye some of the old sea shanties I learned while sailin' 'twixt the Moonshaes and the Sword Coast... Nae? Well then, I beg ye to 'scuse me. 'Tis me first day off in a tenday, and I be after makin' the most of it." Mac turns and strolls towards the door of the pub. You hear him break into song as he steps inside, and as his broken baritone assaults your ears you're left in no doubt as to why he was thrown out of the Greenleaf: Come all ye young lads and sail on the sea! Take leave of yer maidens, And Ladies-to-be We sail with the tide to see the far strand! Take leave of yer bonnies, Take leave of the land! Sing hi, sing lo, through trouble and woe! To the sea, to the sea, we're going to go! After visiting the somewhat less refined aspects of Arylon with the Sergeant, Kimberly Moser (Chittlin@aol.com) will let us see the city out of the eyes of some of the "movers and shakers". The tour begins with a noble of a Waterdeep family, who moved here with her husband a few years back. As Lady Miranda Roaringhorn approaches your carriage hired from the K&K Karriages she studies you with a glowing eye. "Lord Sutton what a pleasure to finally meet you!" Lady Miranda looks you up and down much as a farmer studies a heifer. "Please, let me begin my tour of our fair city." She allows you to help her up into the carriage and settles into her seat as the driver clucks to the horses and the carriage begins to move. "Over there is the residence of my good friend, Mr Jason Lorison. He is a moneylender and operates a store in the Trade Ward of town. I've never found any reason to frequent that area of town, but I do not need to borrow money." The dimpling smile is quite alarming from this woman. "Ah and there you'll see the Arylon Finishing School. Such a fine example of proper grooming for young ladies. My daughters are registered to begin school there. And there is the Cemetery. I've already purchased a plot of land for my family burial grounds. My husband doesn't understand the need for proper burials. He's runs a horse farm and well, I hate to say it but there seems to be a bit of the country bumpkin in him. Most of the time he lives on the farm across the river. I would be happy to have you attend my dinner party this evening and I can introduce you to all the prominent citizens of Arylon." Reaching the wall, the carriage turns around leaving Trade Ward still unexplored, and heads back down along Wall Street. You ride along past the park and the series of standing stones that rear up into the sky, heading in the direction of the fortress that protects Arylon. "Oh and there is the brothel of that half-breed witch, Shandaria Mistmere," Lady Miranda's tone of voice is truly offended at the existence of a tavern, which proclaims itself to be The Greenleaf Tavern. "She and the elven witch have cast spells on the City Council and rule the City. Did you know that they blockaded my attempts to become a City Councilor!" Miranda's voice is becoming more and more strident. "Oh and those are the quaint little shops that have sprung up in town," Miranda waves a hand at the direction of several stores. As you pass you catch names such as Dareth's Harps, Alanna's Servant Agency, Scoundrel's Golden Wines and The Antique Boutique. "I never shop in person, that's what servants were designed for. Don't you think Lord Sutton?" Not a moment too soon the carriage arrives at Mahdanae Sangh, where you have been promised a tour of the garrisons. Swiftly, you jump out of the carriage and Lady Miranda waves farewell to you, "And don't forget my dinner party this evening! 6 o'clock sharp Lord Sutton!" As the carriage departs, you see an older gentleman approaching you. He is tall and walks with a limp, "Hail and Well Met! I am assuming you are Lord Sutton," he rumbles. "I am to be your guide of Mahdanae Sangh. I am called Edain Bradley, or just Edain if you like. I'm sorry Lady Roaringhorn was the one to greet you, but she is most demanding. Shall we continue?" The older gentleman takes you on a walking tour of the great keep of Mahdanae Sangh. "The keep houses the Silver Crescents. The Crescents take their name from an old Mamluk company, from that mysterious land called Zakhara. They were originally called Seraba's Silver Crescents and were hired by Amn to enforce her orders in Arylon. Like the city, the Crescents have evolved. If you are interested in learning more about their history, I believe the Rawuna, Sh'an'sumay is entertaining this tenday at the Greenleaf. What's that? HA! Some would say to avoid that place like the plague, Miranda's one of 'em. Nyah. The Greenleaf is a respectable establishment, so long as you respect others." "Anyway, this is a great view from up here. Look yonder west, see that bald hillock? Beneath there is where the Nose Knows Mining Company burrows and ferrets out copper. Near that, in that depression off to the left, that's Arylon's quarry. Believe it or not we have struck various types of stone. Limestone, the white variety is the most common. Now, then if you look northward and a bit east you'll see the rolling farms of Arylon's Tail. Directly north, see that large building? That's the Motherhouse of the Order of the Sphinx. Arylon may not be what it is today if it weren't for the order and its vigilance against incursions of undead. No, really don't see as many as you might think. The fields are the Fields of the Dead, not the Fields of the Undead. "Know how to ride, Lord Sutton? Good. We'll be riding down to the Order of the Griffin and from there Lady Mistmere will guide you through Dock and Trade Ward. Ha! Lady Roaringhorn got ya' with that witchcraft tale didn't she? Learn from me Lord Sutton, make your own judgment calls on what you do and don't like. It's safer that way. Mount up! We're off." Edain may walk with a limp, but he rides like he was born in the saddle. You look from side to side as you descend from the ancient keep behind you and out the northern city gate, Field Gate. You see a large structure of numerous towers in front of you, but you veer to the left and come to a halt in a bustling market. "Thank-you for the opportunity to show you the city. This is the Farmer's Market. That building across the Way is the Cat's Eye Jewelry Shop. Lady Mistmere will meet you at the door." Edain waits for you to dismount and takes the reins and leads your mount through the maze of tents to the towering structure beyond. Standing here wondering won't get your task done any sooner, so you begin walking across the market when you are waylaid by halflings selling bubbling pastries. They coerce you into buying a couple and you make it to the door of the shop only a few gold, you hope, poorer. Before you can raise your hand to the door latch the door swings in and you find yourself looking almost directly into the gray eyes of a female half-elf. She is a bit shorter than you are and is wearing a no-nonsense gray robe. Her blue-black hair is bound back from her face by a simple silver circlet. "It's good to be surprised from time to time, don't you agree Lord Sutton?", she states with a half-smile. All you can do is stare in confusion. "What's wrong? Have I cast my spell upon you?" She laughs and you feel better. Come then we have a great distance to cover and you want to make it to Miranda's party by six. Believe me, you don't want to be late, or you'll discover why her husband chooses to live south of the river. Sad tale, very sad. "This, if you haven't guessed is the Farmer's Market. It's usually busier but you've come at the end of market day. This is what Arylon is truly about, despite what else you may hear. We are rich in culture and community. Despite all odds, these folk come together, rain or shine for a few simple words and trade of tales. So tell me Lord Sutton, which is the better situation? Miranda's party or the honest fare of a goodwife's table?" You simply gape at the vibrancy in the half-elf's words. You can tell from her tone she cares deeply for these people and all they strive for. You look to her for more answers or better yet, more questions. "Home, Lord Sutton. Home is what these people have. Home is what we the Council defend to our last breath. It is not a physical place, it is a state of being and it is what Arylon means to me. I have traveled many places in my 72 years, I always came back here after each journey." She begins walking and you walk in step with her. I watched these people rebuild after invasions, I helped mold their water trade. I watched the half-elves come in their caravan and set-up a community of their own. Here to the south of the Field Ward on the west of the city is the Trade Ward. Here is a special place. Some call it the Dwarven Quarter, I call it comforting. Very few cities in this world can bring together so many differing peoples in relative harmony. "Moradin's Forge, a special place for the leaders of this small communal area. Farak Lawielder treats it as a sacred place, who knows. Perhaps the god Moradin has looked down upon this blend of harmony and found a fitting beginning to a brighter tomorrow. Come, this place across the way, The Pick Axe Inn, is special. Look in. See that elf? His name is unimportant to you, better that you not mention it anyway, he deserves his peace. That elf owns this inn, that elf and his lady love have adopted a young dwarf. The dwarves of these parts consider this couple a valued part of their hearth. So Lord Sutton, do you see what I am getting at? I am taking you on much more than a tour of this city. I am attempting to teach you what it means to be a part of this city. "Down this way closer to the gate is the merchant's area. Costers have offices here and believe me, some of what is traded would make your head spin. I run the Black Cat Coster and I know what it means to be a merchant in Arylon. You have to be fast and you have to be keen. Elturel to our east may be an official ally, but we pose a small threat to their trade and they do not care for it at all. Baldur's Gate to our west, well . . . they view us as a partner. Plus, we aren't much of a bother to them. "Come, we don't want to lollygag here too long. The next stop is the Dock Ward, and even I am careful there after dark." You ask about the Dock Ward and are treated simply to silence as you and Shandaria walk into the dingiest part of the city you have seen. "Dock Ward," Shandaria shakes her head, "Arylon has long had a love-hate relationship with this area. If it weren't a necessary evil we would have cleaned it out a long time ago. Better to see the snakes in your belly than simply feel them." Shandaria's words leave you cold. The Dock Ward doesn't appear much worse than the Trade Ward to your eyes. Yes, it is a bit poorer, but not obviously deserving of the disdain in the half-elf's tone. Lady Mistmere's gaze draws your eyes back to her face. You see something that was not there before. Something feral, almost made of pure instinct. "This is where my coster offices lie. Over there, by the third berth. That is where I got my start in this city. That is where I began. "Let me take you to where some wonderful new beginnings are located." As you walk from the center area of the ward Shandaria brightens again. You enter a mazelike, tree-lined venue. This is Erevel. This is another home. This is the spirit of life in the city. The Erevel is how the community of half-elves refer to themselves. It is a wondrous place. The Hall of Music lies this way. Galdarion is the master of the Hall and is a musician with a great deal of talent. The Erevel are still becoming a part of Arylon, but I am pleased they are trying. I want so much for them to have a home. Much like the half-elves of the Yuirwood in my native Aglarond." You notice a slight bitter, yearning in the half-elf's voice. "Through this gate, the Sunrise Gate, lies Sunrise Ward. It is may favorite ward. It is the most real and the most peaceful in my eyes. The Temple to Lathander right here is a wonderful place. The priests within know what Arylon means. I respect them and their work. Morninglord Geena Whistleflow is a presence to be felt throughout the city. It will be a loss to us all when she passes to the Fugue Plane. "Oh goodness. It's almost time for the party. Come over here." Shandaria leads you to a shadowed area. "Hmm, clothes. I think you will look stunning in grey, black and silver. I will wear lavender. Hmm? Oh, no. I haven't been invited. They never invite me. I just usually show up. As do several other members of the Council. It would be really rude of them not to allow us in, and even Miranda dare not be rude to me publicly. Snide and churlish, yes. Rude, never." Shandaria mutters a few words and your clothes have changed as have hers. "Are you afraid of magic Lord Sutton? I truly hope not, because in order to make the party, we have to teleport. Safe? My goodness yes, its safe. I know every noble villa in town by heart. Come, we mustn't keep them waiting. You are the Guest of Honor." Shandaria stands on her toes and kisses you lightly on the cheek. She then touches the back of your hand, there is an unsettling feel in the pit of your stomach and you are suddenly standing concealed by a hedge. "This is where we part Lord Sutton. I have people to meet, as you do. I do hope we can talk again sometime. We barely got to touch on Arylon and the sites. I hope you come back often, Arylon is changing at an amazing pace, but the community only grows stronger. Please remember that if nothing else. Sweet Water and Light Laughter, Lord Sutton. May your sword never dull." Suddenly you hear a familiar sweet voice. "Lord Sutton, I was beginning to think that witch may have spirited you away. Can you believe she has the nerve to come here and crash the party? Where does she get her manners . . ."
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