Tʜᴇ Fᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ Rᴇᴀʟᴍs [Fᴀɴ Vᴇʀsɪᴏɴ]

Amphail, named for the ancient warlord Amphail the Just, is a pastoral village set along the Long Road, twenty miles north of Waterdeep. Though modest in size, it is renowned across the Sword Coast for its elite horse breeders, supplying the stables of nobles, adventurers, and caravan masters alike. The village operates under the loose protection of Waterdeep but is largely governed by a handful of prominent local families, most notably the Roaringhorns—noble scions with deep coin and older grudges. Despite its tranquil façade, Amphail harbors quiet tensions between noble estate-owners and the hardworking commoners who tend the horses and fields. Old legends linger in the misted hills: ghostly sightings of Amphail the Just, strange hoofbeats at night, and rumors of buried relics from times before the City of Splendors rose. Amphail remains a crossroads of the simple and the strange, where folk still look to the road with both hope and wariness.

Approaching Amphail, one finds a ribbon of green pastures stretching beneath a wide sky, broken by low stone fences and stands of old oak. The scent of fresh hay and oiled leather drifts on the wind, mingling with the occasional sharp tang of horse sweat. Narrow dirt lanes wind between thatched cottages and stables with broad, open yards where sleek, muscled horses gallop under the eyes of sharp-tongued trainers. The village center is little more than a muddy green surrounded by weathered buildings and gossiping elders. Roosters call in the dawn while farriers hammer out a rhythmic clang from smoke-chugging forges. Beyond, the estates of wealthy Waterdhavian nobles rise like minor fortresses, their manicured fields and guards stark against the more rustic homesteads. At dusk, Amphail glows golden with lantern-light and fading sun, casting long shadows that sometimes dance in ways not always explained by wind or beast.