I often write boxed text for new in-game locations. I find it easier to think through the sights, smells, and other sensations during GM prep and write them out, rather than improv’ing when I’m trying to write a game. Here’s one such location.
Helgard is a sleepy little town on the coast. There are a few docks, but not nearly as many as you saw in Kozyl–most ships head to ports further east. The sea northeast of Helgard is shallow and marshy in places, limiting its usefulness as a port.
As you look south and east, you see the treeline of the Westwood, green and dark, just beyond the last few roofs. The buildings here are its products–they’re mostly made of wood, often cut into plain, square beams or simple siding. Beyond it, hazy on the horizon, the highest peaks of the Damycian Mountains cut a jagged line across the sky.
On the northwest edge of town, a peninsula gently curls out into the sea.
Towards the end of the peninsula is the Wizard’s Conclave, a rounded marble building with a dome, wide porch, and columns, built in a classical style. In the evenings, it offers a scenic view of the sunset sparkling across the rippling waves.
Closer to town, there is a rectangular temple with a peaked roof. A large circular window set high above the door faces east, intricately divided into geometrical slices–clearly intended to catch the morning light through a thousand facets of glass.
Two identical, stylized murals are inset on either side of the doors, featuring Timmit, halfling god of knowledge and magic. Rich reds and earth tones painted thickly across the recesses are a striking contrast to the grayish stone of the cathedral. A golden halo surrounds Timmit’s head, filled with various texts and diagrams–some in languages you recognize, others you don’t. In his left hand he holds a bulky leatherbound book, almost too big for him to carry. His right hand is raised in a beatific gesture as he stares ahead, somewhat blankly.
In town proper, the largest inn is The Borealis. Its cuisine is about the best you can get up here so close to the frontier, and its patrons are loud and lively. Its stylized shingle depicts the peninsula extending into the Brtov Sea, and the dome of the Wizard’s conclave in front of a sunset reflecting on the rippling water. The carved, painted sign is framed in shades of frigid blue.
The Wizard’s Conclave
Stairs lead up to the large, columned porch that surrounds the Conclave’s cylindrical building. A set of bronze double doors are emblazoned with a stylized carving of stars and planets, and other strange cloudlike structures believed to exist in the cosmos beyond the sky.
Opening the bronze doors, you enter a small lobby, just a slice of the larger circle. A brass cage with a door in it covers the far side of it. As you peer through the slats, you can see shelves surrounding the walls, up and down as far as you can see from this angle, with wrought iron grating on each level connected with a spiral staircase.
There’s an empty desk and chair, as if there should be someone here to greet visitors. From below, you occasionally hear the clang of people ascending and descending staircases, and the occasional echo of voices deep in thoughtful conversation.
The Temple of Timmit
The sanctuary of this temple looks much like other temples you’ve seen, with rows of benches, a wide carpeted aisle, and icons of various gods hung on the walls.
The pulpit in any of Timmit’s temples is a bit different. On its lectern sits a large, leatherbound tome, where a priest or priestess dutifully records whatever information the temple and its surrounding town has gleaned–news of the day, discoveries, disputes and agreements, major developments–so that nothing is lost. Behind the Tomekeeper, the back wall is covered in shelves of previous volumes of the Tome, with a rolling, adjustable ladder for access.