Of all the cities and towns in all the world, Espen has seen the greatest changes over the years. The township has went from a thriving mining and logging exporter, to a slum, to a militaryistic base, to a ghosttown, then back again. The rich logging industry that had, in earlier years, had preyed upon the fertile growth of the Falteen forest dwindled out when more and more of the lumberjacks and loggers went missing. Thinly veiled threats - normally left by the carefully discarded clothing and equipment of those who had been working - became the norm. The heart-splitting howl of wolves could be heard nearly every night, sometimes far in the distance, and at other times right at the edges of the walls. When the logging stopped - so did the dissappearances. No attempt has been made ever since. The rich industry that had been created, the families that had moved in, found themselves in a pinch. No money to travel - travel without an armed escort in these lands was inviting trouble - and no industry to create further income. Shortly after the fall of the logging industry, a handful of very rich gem mines were found beneath the plains, thanks to the careful divination of the then-mayor, Charl Yiman. Unfortunantly, the buzz did not last very long, and soon enough, everyone was right back to where they had started - out of money, and with no place to go.<br/><br/>Now, Espen is useful for only one thing - a tradeway between Troth, a two week travel to the south, Falteen, an equal distance to the north, and Berstin, a week and a half travel to the north-east.The constant trade has put money in the pockets of everyone who had a desire to work for their living. As the population grew, farms sprung up in the fertile plainlands, eager to grow food to sell to and feed the growing populace. Attempts at finishing the half-built wall that surrounded the sprawling town have been even been made from time to time, but most attempts have ended in failure so far. Transporting usable stone and wood the required distance incurred quite the fee - a fee which the town could simply not afford.<br/><br/>With the increase in trade, so came the inevitable influx in population. The town grew, and with that growth, came new problems. Often was there a food shortage, as the larger farms scurried to keep up with the growing populace. Trade supplied some of what was needed, but even it could not keep up with the growing tide that seemed to find it's way to the young city day by day. Mercenaries hired to protect those that had made the journey found a new trade - preying upon those they'd only days before protected. Theft became commonplace. Slavers roamed the countryside, eager to nab a few individuals to sell in the markets of Berstin. A city guard was formed, but even it was subject to those who could be bought easily with a bribe. Those whom were trustworthy did not last long. Aid to quell the growing problem never came. Espen had almost become a joke, a rat-hole that was destined to either become a den of theivery and death, or simply be abandoned.<br/><br/>Then, Kaldron came, a shining beacon in the dark that had become Espen. A paladin, in service to all-gods, began to work to set things straight. His powerful divination abilities could easily search out those corrupt officals that had found their way into an office. Those same abilities made it quite easy to find and eliminate those whom had grow corrupt in the newly-formed guard. As the years went by, Espen grew...and under the careful leadership of Kaldron, began to once again prosper. Theft became a thing of the past. Slavers were driven far, far from the borders of the town. Commoners, no longer fearful for their lives, once more began to spread into the countryside, farming and growing food for the growing populace.<br/><br/>Kaldron's work was never completed. Rampant speculation circulated that he'd finally overstepped himself, and someone had simply devoured him. One way or another, he simply dissappeared one day, the only mark he left behind being the city he'd aided in setting right.<br/><br/>Now, Thirteen years later...things are once more going downhill. Slavers have begun to filter back into the plains. Theft and corruption once more spread like wildfire. The current mayor - a Nekojin by the name of 'Artimus Quail', has found his hands full day-in-and-day-out. Despite trying to keep things as they should be, he has been failing miserably. Trade has slowed to a trickle, then stopped altogether. Food has become a scarcity, and what little is avalible is vastly over-priced. More and more refugees have filtered into the town, speaking of massive, roving beasts able to devour a man in a single bite, and slavers that control those very beasts. With the scarcity of food, predation begins to run rampant. Artimus, frantically searching for a way to keep his office, and keep the peace, has sent out runners far and wide, carrying the message that help is needed - and needed badly. Hopefully, someone will answer the call.<br/><br/>Espen needs heroes.