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A village cut off from the rest of Mizahar by the Valterrian, slowly reestablishing contact with the outside world.
When the Valterrian took care of the enemies of the Suvan Empire (and the Suvan Empire itself), the militaristic Denvali had no one against whom to take out their aggression. But, keen to keep those martial skills honed against the day that violence might be necessary to protect the remainders of humanity, several informal clubs came about, which were drinking clubs, social gatherings, but also a place where swordplay was taken extremely seriously.
A few remain, but the most august and least transitory is the Dandy Guild of Swordsmen. The most elite swordsmen (and swordswomen) are members, but they also take on people with "potential" (whether for swordplay or drinking or fashion-forward thinking) as new recruits. Regardless, they take their drinking, fighting, and lovemaking seriously, and have been known to drunkenly serenade at windows, among other rambunctiousness.
The Guildhall was a private residence that was deeded over to the Guild in perpetuity and now has been retrofitted into a clubhouse with an ample wine cellar, a cigar lounge, a sauna, steamroom, and training salle among other things. There are also beds for those too inebriated to return home, though things have been known to happen to those who fall asleep without taking off their shoes.
Jarl is the leader of the Guild by rights of his drinking ability and that of his cape and rapier skills. He also has more time on his hands than the others, mostly teaching and womanizing. Random fact, his father's name was Evander.
Moderator's Note: Players may use the Guildhall location without a moderator if they are members of the Guild, otherwise they require moderation. Please PM Tabarnac with questions..
Maliken felt very awkward being here now. The thought of being in a place, pretty much a social club from what she heard, was so far from her normal personality that she never considered it even possible to come to a place like this in attempt to fit in, or even join their ranks. Maliken hadn't really fit in since her accident. Even now, staring down at her large robe sleeve that concealed the missing limb, she felt so out of place just being alive. She needed to exist though, and existence just wasn't existence without someone else there to recognize you. These people, if only future fake-friends or people to share a drink or two with, could at least give her that. If she could get that, she could continue on living.
Her arm pushed outwards, opening the large sturdy door enough for the five foot, one-armed Isur to slip through and inside. From there, she didn't move from the entrance, she didn't know where to go, and already she felt as nervous as a child separated from her mother. She wanted to leave, to continue her life of solitude, it would be easier, but it was easy to be miserable. It was difficult to challenge and change yourself. Maliken was going to give this a shot. If she was denied, so be it, at least she wasn't the one making a mistake. So, she waited with wandering eyes of curiosity and suspense.