Lux Tenebris: Ilok's Junction

She had left the mountains behind and having them at her back was a welcome relief. True, the mountain folk were a taciturn, self-reliant lot, but they could also be hidebound and mistrustful of outsiders.  The dwarves of Orvald, in particular, were fine examples of such folk. Malora had skirted the dwarven city, traveling by night, even though it meant having to walk her horse rather than ride. The further west she traveled from Fallen Baramir the more the road deteriorated. Riding a horse at night was an invitation to disaster.

Now, the Greytooth Mountains were at her back, as were the watchful eyes of the Everwood. She had never managed to spot her observers, but she had known they were there, shadowing her along the road.

She was past the border of the wood, now, traveling along the Old Road at a decent pace. Her maps from the Adamantine Archive were current and fairly accurate. The road beyond the mountains seemed a bit better maintained and, ahead of her, lay a community that the Chief Archivist had assured her would be welcoming.

According to her maps, Ilok's Junction would be her last chance to swing south and take the New Road west. If she continued west, she would be committed to taking the Old Road and there were no guarantees regarding its safety or condition.

Still, a less traveled route was preferable to her in this country. A solitary drow, traveling alone, would attract enough attention and distrust. A drow woman, traveling alone, would invite a broader range of threats and a greater chance of violence.

Best to take her time on the Old Road, trust to the notes the Chief Archivist had given her, and avoid knives in the dark. Or worse.

The countryside was pleasant. The road passed through gently rolling hills. The forests alongside were neither dark nor menacing. At least, not any more so than any forest was. She did not sense eyes on her, watching her every move, making her itch to fling a dagger into the leafy shadows.  That was a good thing.

The road skirted the edge of a dense wood to the South when Malora spotted plumes of wispy smoke rising ahead of her. Telltale signs of civilization, or what would pass for it. Out of reflex, she took inventory of her weapons, made sure she could draw her rapier with no difficulty, then took a breath and continued.

Her first impression of Ilok's Junction was not favorable. She rounded a bend in the road and came upon a dilapidated log house, long abandoned and given back to nature. The roof had collapsed and the forest seemed to be doing its best to devour the structure in vines and mold. She passed it, warily, wondering if the Chief Archivist's notes were out-of-date. Perhaps Ilok's Junction was abandoned now, or become a haven for bandits.

Scowling, Malora pushed such thoughts away. If Ilok's Junction wasn't what she had been told to expect, she would adjust accordingly. She always had and she always would.

The road continued, a wide dirt track flanked by sparse woodland on either side. Smoke continued to rise ahead of her and, when the wind shifted, she caught the stink of hides being tanned.

So, she thought. Someone lives here yet and probably not bandits.

Nevertheless, her gloved hand slid to the hilt of her blade.

A little further along, Malora spotted the cabin. It was made of hewn logs with wooden shingles. There was a single story and, at a glance, Malora knew its interior was a single room. She spotted an outhouse behind the structure.

Standing in front of the structure was a man. He was human, with a weatherbeaten complexion and a shaved scalp. He wore buckskin trousers and leather boots. His naked torso was the color of teak, crisscrossed with fine scars and adorned with tattoos. A necklace of teeth and stones hung about his neck.

As Malora approached, the man was in the process of scraping a large deer hide which he had stretched across a sturdy wooden frame. He glanced up at Malora's approach, but never stopped his work. The air was filled with the sound of the blade scraping the taut skin.

"Well met, stranger."

Malora inclined her head. "Well met. Is this Ilok's Junction?"

"The outskirts of it," said the man. He jerked his head toward the west. "Keep following the road. You'll run into the Junction proper."

"Thank you."

The man grunted, "Safe travels," and kept on working.

Gently, Malora nudged her horse forward.

Well, she thought. Perhaps the Chief Archivist's notes aren't out of date after all.

The man's words were dagger-true.  She ambled into Ilok's Junction as the sun was hanging low on the western horizon. 

It wasn't a town, she realized, or even a village. It was a hamlet. She saw the peaked roofs of other log cabins. Most seemed small and cozy. There was also a wooden palisade, its fifteen-foot high walls sheltering what appeared to be an inn.  The palisade gates hung open and, as Malora guided her horse toward them, she spotted a scowling elf-man standing by them.

He stood with arms crossed, watching her with poisonous eyes. She held his gaze until he turned his head and spat on the ground.  Malora ignored him and studied the building in front of her.

It was bigger than she had expected, a sprawling two-story affair made of stout logs and mortared stone. Two chimneys rose from the slanted roof, spewing white smoke into the late afternoon sky. Bright golden flowers grew in abundance around the base of the structure, and the front doors were painted a brilliant shade of red.

As Malora slid off her horse, that bright red door swung open. A small matronly figure, swaddled in a light cloak despite the heat, emerged from the interior. She walked, leaning heavily on a gnarled wooden cane.

"Well met, traveler. Welcome to the Junction Inn. Would you be needing a room?"

"Aye, mistress," said Malora. "If you've got one."

"You've caught us between trade caravans," said the woman. "You'll have the place to yourself. Mostly." She lifted a hand, white as milk, and crooked a finger.  "Come inside. Let's get you settled. I'm Walfora Redflower, the mistress of this establishment. Welcome to Ilok's Junction."

Ilok's Junction is a hamlet of about nine families approximately fifty-two miles west of the dwarven city of Orvald. The Greytooth Mountains and the Everwood Forest are east of the Junction, while the Nemular Forest begins to the west.  The Old Road skirts the southern edge of this woodland while the New Road diverges from it at Ilok's Junction, heading south and west.

The largest structure in Ilok's Junction is the Junction Inn(1). It is also the best defended, situated behind a fifteen-foot high wooden palisade. During times of danger, the entire town can, and has, taken shelter in the Inn.

Other prominent structure in Ilok's Junction are the Temple of Ariel(3), Omir Moonrhyme's forge(4) and Neverene's Goods(5).

Most of the remaining buildings are residential dwellings (2, 6, 8, 11, 12).  Some properties have been abandoned (7, 9, 10, 13, 14) and have fallen into disrepair.  Whatever could be scavenged from these abandoned homes has been by the remaining residents.

Ilok's Junction is the last chance travelers have to leave the Old Road for the New Road. There isn't another opportunity to do so for almost two hundred miles.

During the warmer months, and into late autumn, trade caravans from Orvald and more isolated communities pass through Ilok's Junction. Many overnight at the Junction Inn, have damaged vehicles repaired at Moonrhyme's forge and purchase supplies at Neverene's. 

Remarkably, Ilok's Junction owes allegiance to no local lord or city-state. It is an independent community, handling their own affairs and meting out their own justice.  Occasionally some local lordling attempts to annex the Junction but its relative isolation, and the fierce tempers of the local residents, usually ends such schemes.