Agoval lay cradled on the top of a large cliffside high above the cerulean colored Lucent sea below. Vibrant houses climb the cliff sides like ivy on ancient trees. Towers of alabaster and coral colors piercing high into the azure sky, their spires wreathed in swirling mists that shimmer with iridescent colors. A beacon of wonder where humanity’s magical tapestry is woven tightest. Founded by pioneers seeking a temperate haven, Agoval wasn't always awash in arcane glory. It began humbly as a fishing village, its first spark of magic granted by an elf that took shelter in the small town over a particularly harsh winter. The elf taught simple magics to the people so as to ease their laborious life some, and as a gesture of thanks for the hospitality over the long winter stay. However, in the hearts of the people the acts of charity resonated profoundly with the people. A statue was erected to the mage in the town square, and the townsfolk worked hard to improve their magical skills. With each generation, the ember grew within them, fanned by the ingenuity and yearning of its people. Academies bloomed as the town grew into a bustling city, nurturing raw talent into wise wizards, and magical infusion into their crafts. Gifted individuals, drawn by the city's burgeoning reputation, flocked to its shores, weaving their magic into Agoval's very fabric.
Today, Agoval stands as a testament to the collective human spirit. Its beating heart is the Grand Council, a body of twelve revered spellcasters, each an embodiment of a different magical discipline. The Wise One, cloaked in starlight, communes with the cosmos. The Weaver, nimble-fingered and quick-witted, bends reality to her will. The Alchemist, eyes aglow with molten gold, transmutes the very essence of things. Together, they guide Agoval's destiny, their wisdom a lighthouse in the ever-shifting sea of magic. Agoval's cobbled streets thrum with life, laughter spilling from taverns where bards weave tales of dragons and daring deeds. In the bustling market squares, merchants hawk potions that shimmer with otherworldly hues and trinkets imbued with playful enchantments. Children, with eyes wide as moonlit oceans, chase wisps of stray magic that dance along the wind. Every corner whispers of wonder, every interaction a brush with the extraordinary. But Agoval's magic is not just a spectacle. It is woven into the city's soul, powering its defenses, mending its wounds, and nurturing its people. Agoval is a haven for the magically gifted, a place where they can hone their talents without fear or prejudice. It is a beacon of hope, a testament to what humanity can achieve when it embraces its potential, both ordinary and extraordinary.
“Or so the leaflets say” Eroan said to Robateli as he folded the piece of parchment up gently.
They had stopped for the night at an inn along the route, and this morning they sat together at a table eating a breakfast of eggs and bacon.
“Ill neva understand the need for all dem big words in der for them human cities. Dey coulda just said it was a magic city and stopped der hu? Do the elves do the same ting for der cities? Da humans always be tryin to sell you somting.”
Robateli responded, a piece of bacon dangling from his mouth as he grabbed a handful of the eggs and moved his hand to his mouth.
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“No, although known for their vanity, my people tend to let the glory of the city speak for itself.” Eroan responded after finishing chewing his food. The response sparked a question in his mind and although he felt foolish for the simplicity of the question, he knew that Robateli would not judge him for it so he asked.
“Do trolls have large cities? Do your people even have cities? I must admit I know very little about troll culture outside of what you have taught me.”
“Hmmmm no, da trolls are similar to the orcs in that way. We mostly just move about, never stayin in one spot for to long, or at the very least not finding a reason to set roots down no where. Da forest where I found you, I had only been there a few months, and before dat I was in the planes for a year.”
Robateli responded with a mouth full of food. Flecks of egg and bacon flying out and hitting Eroan in the face much to his chagrin.
Eroan wiped his face shaking his head slightly but smiling at the good natured being in front of him. He pushed his empty plate forward in a gesture of completion, and Robateli did the same. Eroan raised a hand, and the barmaid came to the table they were sitting at alone in the empty inn main room.
The woman was rather young, somewhere in her late teens and rather beautiful. Her short brown hair stopping just below her shoulders slightly disheveled. Her amber colored eyes hesitant but confident as she approached.
“Um, Anything else for you two?” she said softly and unsure, the confidence from a moment ago gone as she stepped closer. Her eyes fixed on the troll, enthralled at the moment picking at his teeth with his tongue. His sharp teeth as visible on his face as her trepidation was on hers.
Eroan followed her gaze to Robateli, and he smiled.
“You need not be worried about him my dear. He is only scary when he is hungry, and you just filled his belly”
Robateli looked up to meet her gaze and he raised his hands in a mock motion of showing claws that he did not poses, and he grunted playfully.
“I’ll grind your bones up for my stew hu? Oh, ho ha ha, haha!” Robateli said before laughing loudly.
The tension released in her face, and she smiled.
“I’m sorry sir I didn’t mean any off…”
“None taken I am sure my dear” Eroan said before Robateli could speak. “Tell me, this must be the first time you have seen a troll then?”
The girl nodded.
“Yes sir, I’ve heard stories but never seen one before myself. I always thought they were as tall as a house and as broad as several trees. But he isn’t anything like that.”
Robateli looked at Eroan slyly smiling. “Learn her good Eroan” he said with a mouth full of food.
“You aren’t entirely wrong miss……” Earon said before trailing off waiting for her reply.
“Bella” she responded quickly.
“You aren’t entirely wrong miss Bella. There are several species of creature that we call “troll” some are indeed as you described, those are often called “Cave Trolls”. Now my friend here is from the far south. A tribe called the Shatter-Spear. They are related but are as different as dogs and wolves.” Eroan responded.
As the girl nodded Robateli spoke up “Do I wouldn’t go lookin for dem to hard miss. Most of dem aren’t as friendly as me ey? Oh, ho ha ha.” His belly laugh ringing out through the mostly empty room.
“Anyway, no my dear, thank you. I think we are all set and ready to go. Thank you”. Earon said warmly as the girl nodded once more and took the empty plates and returned with the bill. Earon settled it, and the pair prepared to get back on the road to Agoval. They would be arriving at the edge of the Swamp of Sorrows before nightfall and would camp there for the night.