On the northern shores of great bay near the southern end of Alaron, rests the sprawling town known as Llewellyn. The harbor, aptly named Llewellyn Harbor, is nearly large enough to claim that the residences that stretch beyond it inland, those small thatch roofed human cottages and hovels interspersed, like salt scattered on gravel, are merely an appendage to the harbor itself.
The beach around the bay, made of pebbles, gravel and coarse stone beds, stretches a full four hundred yards from the sea shelf where the water rests at low tide, to the sporadic grassy numbs and rocky dunes where the water licks at high tide.
The system of docks, vast and multi-tiered, reachs upwards off the beach like an enlarged patio at some affluent Caer-Callidyr palazzo, only on these intricate wooden docks are not host to finery and social niceties. Fog often settles abotu the docks and wraps the people there in a humid, uncomfortable blanket. The clouds, which nearly always loom in the sky above, block the sun and allow the tepid sea winds to be the only gift of warmth. The dock-goers indulge themselves in whatever sustenance they can, be it foodstuffs or otherwise, but unlike the sea side villas in Car Callidyr, the purpose of these provisions to is remove the consumers from their dreary lives. Instead of caviar and Waterdhavian crab, there is flounder, eel and sword fish from the Straight of Alaron and the South Head. Instead of fine Dragondew or Firedrake, the hands at the Llewellyn docks drink mostly the swill from Daedrick's Keg or Ashfourth Head, or if they are to-do or lucky, they might put their lips on an spice-ale from Pembroke.
The boxes, barrels and bags about the docks hold out-going fish, some dried and some pickled, while large chests of ice contain fresh fish for the more successful traders, and those with Northmen contacts, or simply the funds to ship ice from the north themselves. Fishers drag about fresh catches and armored men and women haul weapons to and from the ships. Stationed out on the water were the docks reach furthest, there are ships of most every size. Longboats from the Northmen dock here, although the Northmen tend not to stay long, nor stray far from their ships. Callidian Galleons position from time to time, mostly to show their prominence in the seas and to remind the Northmen that the Callidian Navy is poised to strike at all times. Fishing boats range from small dingys adorned with single triangular sails to massive whaling with multiple arrays of sails and equipped with harpoon guns jutting from their sides.
The lower docks, which are often slick with algae, having slipping beneath the tide when the rains are heavy, are host to a plethora of mischievous children, hangers-on, layabouts and the occasional ruffian or thief. The upper docks host fishers, sailors, merchants, mercenaries, Llewellyn guards and not a few citizens of land-side professions seeking to purchase food or imported goods.
Some buildings reside on the docks as well, supported by the same beams that hold the docks from the uneven and unstable surface of the beach. Taverns, market houses and inns stand proudly above the wooden decks, away from the residential inland areas and convenient for fishers and merchants alike. The air at the docks wreaks of salt water, fish both rotting and fresh and the left behind stench of sea detritus still clinging to the beach below.
Inland the homes of the locals create a radial pattern emanating from the docks. Three major roads lead away from the docks inland, one to the west, towards the coastal road, which turns north climbs onto the cliffs that line the shore. The center road heads to the north out through the hills and to the Stone Finger, the guard tower which is the outermost watch of Llewellyn. The Stone Finger reaches far above the earth, nearly fifty yards in diameter. It is the primary defensive redoubt for the town and sports many arrow slits, a few murder holes and some fortified windows. The top is the typical rugged teeth of a turret. The last road heads east to meet with the High Kings Road.
The houses through which these roads cut are arranged in a chaotic, almost spontaneous pattern. Few houses are taller than a single story, save the luxurious Lord Llewellyn's manor which sits a full four stories and rests dead center in the residential district that encompass the entire outer third of the town. Between these houses run a myriad of alleys, smaller winding roads, low walls, courtyards and small marketplaces into which merchants from the docks bring their goods. A few smithies pump black smoke into the air and clothing lines, in the more densely built sections, run from window to window or wall to wall. Small yards grace a few of the more wealthy homes. The air here is damp but smells of ash and baking bread and roasting meats. Ffolk busy themselves pushing carts and traveling in and out of town, to and from their other employments.
The hills to the north east and the east of the main residential area host another set of residences. They are home to the halflings who live inside the hills themselves, their doors barely protruding from the surface along with small sets of windows that peak out of lumps in the grass. Chimneys dot the tops of the hills like stumps of trees and puff peaty smelling moss smoke into the air.
The Stone Finger reaches far above the earth, nearly fifty yards in diameter. It is the primary defensive redoubt for the town and sports many arrow slits, a few murder holes and some fortified windows. The top is the typical rugged teeth of a turret. This tower can be seen from far around, including the docks. It pierces through the fog and the chimney smoke forbiddingly.
