Dynasties of Elisar
The Village of Welton
In the town proper, vendors flash their wears, carts spilling over with fresh produce, pomegranates, squash, beets, cabbage, carrots, and apples red as a calf’s heart. Knights of the Dusk keep the peace, armor shined to a sheen. Strange folk from Eastern Elisar, faces covered in shimmering veils and ears pierced with Basilisk teeth, sell exotic wears spread out on azure blue rugs. A local tavern, The Weston Cuckold, serves grilled pheasant to a band of East Kerradale merchants. In the far corner of the town proper is a ragged curio shop. A sign reads: “Odds and ends! Rare trinkets from beyond the silver seas!” Off side streets are a variety of test your strength, intelligence, and skill booths. A bedraggled, toothless codger sits by the well, begging. A group of children run through the market, laughing and playing with swords made from dried corncobs. There is much to see and do.
Welton overflows with life and bounty, especially now as the new crops have just been planted. Every year, farmers, travelers, peasants and merchants alike flock to Welton for their Harvest Gods festival and feast. The surrounding countryside blooms with trees and leaves and breathtaking fields of undulating wheat. Although quaint, the Welton locals are renowned hosts who brew the best ale and mead in Kerradale, some even say, in all of Elisar. Thriving on the money from tourism and travelers, Welton is open to strangers and wanderers. Many from distant lands have walked past the charming thatched houses and flowered gardens and never left.