<div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em><strong><span class="bbc_u">The Delian Tomb</span></strong></em></span></span></div><br/><div align="center">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d6/e5/ed/d6e5ed4656c2745f70f00077909fecd1.jpg)</div><br/>The Kingdom of Carrowynn lies fractured, and Crownhall–its once glorious capital–is now ruled only by the vengeful dead. For the past century, Carrowynn's nobles have feuded and warred against each other in futile bids for rulership. And while the cities of the heartland are ravaged by constant war, the outlying baronies lie forgotten, their history crumbling alongside their forgotten monuments.<br/><br/>Elsin Keep is the seat of one such barony. Once a proud bastion against the goblin hordes, it is now a beleaguered shadow of its former self, its armies depleted by the Dukes' constant warring. Yet the people who reside in the surrounding village carry on much the same, too busy eking out the survival of the moment to pay the vagaries of the future much mind. And when the day's work is done, much like anywhere else, the townsfolk retire to the local tavern, a ramshackle affair known as the<em>Laden Mule</em>.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/1/1d/650ad52b38278e3cd6f7bc7c7485137d--druid-elf-half-elf-druid.jpg)</div>There, conspicuous amongst the human folk sit two elves–already a rarity in these lands–made all the more exotic because one of them is a Drow. Her companion, a wood elf with fiery hair sips casually from her drink, seemingly oblivious to the various gawkers.<br/><br/>"They'll get used to you," the red-haired priestess said. "Whatever their prejudice, the only thing you've done here is save a local child." She smiled warmly. "You heard the song of Elistraee, and that song led you here. Trust in her guidance."