Myth Drannor


The wind-driven rain beats hard against the paved streets and drums loudly against the rooftops as you make your way through the nearly-empty streets of Caer Callidyrr, the towering height of the white granite tower to the west ever in your vision. The few city guardsmen out in this weather give you passing glances as they hurry to drier, warmer environs. As you draw closer to the tower, its height all the more obvious as you stand at its foot, you feel a strong sense of age about it; the ivy heavily covering its base, the few places where the rock has slightly crumbled, and the huge oak trees that are completely dwarfed in size by it.

As you arrive, you notice other shapes moving towards the tower -- clearly you were not the only one drawn by the notices in the city's streets and taverns.