You enter the dimly lit tavern…

The din of the local crowd is comforting. You recognize nearly every face you can see, and a few voices from those that you can’t. As you shoulder your way towards the center of the crowd, the most familiar of these voices become clearer. Within the small clearing in the very middle of the room stands a great table.

Maplering is represented at the center of the table by a number of small, crudely drawn buildings. Around this are the locations of a few points of interest. An old ruined city with no name, the abandoned tower of a long-dead mage, and an unmarked icon that looks eerily like the goblins of local legend. Around these few markings is a dark line where the old oak merges with the new maple table, created after the original was nearly lost in a terrible fire.

Surrounding the table are the varied group of talented Elves you’ve come to consider your friends and allies. Some of them sitting quietly, seemingly lost in thought. A few are standing over the map, speaking in heated voices and gesturing wildly to the partial map in front of them. One of them, the oldest by nearly a century, is sitting in the center of the table with a number of books and sheets of paper sprawled out in front of him. Upon your arrival his eyes light up, and with a loud clap he stands to greet you.

Tales of the Forest