Approaching the town:
A beautiful scene. You see the trees first, diciduous and so many shades of green your eyes take time to adjust to. Red and yellows, oranges and whites pop out from the slopes of the Found Forest in front of you. The road itself starts to change from the dirt and rock and stone of the avenue you’d been following. The brick turns yellow, not the sandy stone of Xaviars columns, but a bright yellow and orange gritty swirl of color in each of the stones leading up to the town that now comes over the horizon.
At the base of the forest, near a small body of water you see a town with no walls, which you can see end to end. Beautiful houses stand up to two stories tall the closer you get to the hamlet. Farms dot the hillside and along the road as you get closer, and the wonderful smell of fragrant flowers that sit along the fence near the road give you a feeling of confusion as to the nature of the town you’re actually going into.
Approaching during the evening, you see lit lampposts around the main street, and the majority of the windows of the towns have the steady light of oil lamps. Children and women are prevalent in your sight, though the deeper you get into the towns and buildings, you see more men working and moving up and down the streets. It doesn’t look like a bad place to live. A great sign hits your eyes, as in purposeful welcome to you, from the Inn along the way. The Missing Horn Inn sits across the street from a cobbler, tanner, and apparell store. The smell in town of baked goods, fresh food, and ale, along with the laughter from inside the Inn, makes you feel comfortable in a way you haven’t felt since you stayed at Barruck’s.

You know this town to be one of, if not the, headquarters of The Jagged Knives, an assassin’s guild. It’s a quaint place, and beautiful, and would be a great place to live if you weren’t constantly afraid of getting your neck slit.
It sits ten miles down the road from the known entrance to the labyrinth.

Mayor: Fredrick Everwash

Places of Interest: The Labyrinth; The Missing Horn

The view en route to Mayfield


A New Age Gred