Eveningstar

A small, unwalled farming town in northern Cormyr, Eveningstar sits where the High Road meets the Starwater Road on a bend of the Starwater River. Though modest in size—barely fifty buildings clustered amid orchards and gardens—it is renowned far beyond the Heartlands for the many-spired House of the Morning, for its friendly market, and for the uncanny number of winged cats (tressym) haunting its roofs and hedgerows. The village also lies closest to the infamous Haunted Halls, a lure for bold souls and a bane to the unwary.

Setting & Geography

Eveningstar lies roughly 30 miles west of Arabel, in an elbow of the Starwater just north of the outer fringe of the King’s Forest (locals call this edge-country the Shadowood). The High Road runs east–west (Arabel ⇄ High Horn) through the village; the Starwater/Suzail Road (the “Southrun”) departs south toward Dhedluk and Suzail. Just north of the houses and mills the river widens into Redhand Pool, a millpond that slows the current before it knifes into Eveningstar Gorge (also called Starwater Gorge), the lone natural breach in the limestone Stonecliff that otherwise walls the land from Tyrluk to near Arabel.

The gorge is both blessing and hazard. It grants relatively easy passage toward the Helmlands and the Storm Horns, funnels fog down into the village on chill mornings, and, in hard winters, lets hungry wolves prowl south from the Stonelands. Fishing from the Starwater bridge is a favorite pastime, and caravaners use the river’s deeper holes as baths when camped. Beyond the cottages lies the stone-walled High Pasture, a common grazing ground for sheep and cattle.

Eveningstar’s beauty is plain even to a hurried traveler: lanes shaded by fruit trees, gardens tangled in herbs and flowers, and sunsets that flare over the Storm Horns like poured gold. Bardic tales call the surrounding countryside the Evening Lands.

People & Society

Residents are called Evenor. Most are farmers, herders, or craftsfolk (tanners, parchment-makers, vintners, cheesemakers). This is an early-to-bed community: apart from the House of the Morning, the inns, and a single late-open tavern (the Low Lantern), doors are barred not long after dusk. Dawn comes with the bustle of wagons and the bleat of flocks; a highsun lull often sees shutters drawn for short naps before chores resume.

A beloved local oddity is the thriving, semi-feral population of tressym. These winged mousers hunt the fields, spy from thatch and chimney, and steal bits of sausage if you turn your back. Eveningor treat them kindly; more than one notable—Lord Tessaril Winter in her day, and Maea Dulgussir—kept a tressym familiar.

Rule & Order

Through the late 14th century Lord Tessaril Winter held the lordship, a canny and popular ruler fiercely loyal to King Azoun IV. Her herald was Tzin Tzummer; Auldo Morim served as purser and clerk. A detachment of Purple Dragons (with hostlers and farriers) and a 40-plus local militia kept the peace and manned alarms. In the later 15th century the title passed to Lord Azana Winter.

Eveningstar’s justice is brisk and practical: fines and make-goods for most offenses; the stocks or exile for the obstinate; and the Purple Dragons’ swift march when brigands test the roads.

Faith

The soul of the village is the House of the Morning, a many-towered complex dedicated to Lathander. It commands a large, productive pasture and houses scores of clergy and layfolk; in 1358 DR the temple’s patriarch was Charisbonde Trueservant. The temple heals, feeds, and shelters, teaches crafts and letters, and opens its doors at dawn with bell and hymn.

By the lord’s leave, temporary shrines to other powers may be raised in the market for up to three days—a common courtesy to caravans on holy fasts or feast days. A singular wonder stands in the village: a blueleaf tree whose boughs hide a portal to Suzail, wrought long ago by a woodland priestess.

Trade & Daily Life

Eveningstar’s wealth is agricultural. Farms and farmsteads send to market milk, eggs, poultry, mutton, carrots, beans, and parsnips; small workshops turn out cheese, parchment, wool, and wine. A farmers’ market is held every six days, drawing folk from the Shadowood and drovers from the north. Exports—especially parchment, wool, and wine—roll by wagon to Suzail and sometimes on to Daerlun.

The village thrives as a caravan stop. Teamsters prize the secure pens, good fodder, and honest scales; merchants praise the tables of the Lonesome Tankard, an inn famed across Cormyr for its stews, beds, and bustling taproom. Repairable tack gets repaired; broken wheels get mended; a traveler can buy lamp oil, fresh shod horseshoes, and a decent cloak without haggle or cheat.

Ties to Kings & Crowns

Eveningstar holds a soft corner in the heart of the Obarskyrs. Azoun IV visited often—more than once in disguise—strolling the lanes and listening. His friendship with Tessaril Winter made the village an outpost of royal favor, and Purple Dragon patrols never linger far.

History & Nearby Perils

Before Cormyr’s rise, Eveningstar lay within the small realm of Esparin, ruled by the Warrior-Queen Enchara. Tales say she lured the brigand Rivior from refuge in the Haunted Halls and slew him in single combat—a deed that did much to quiet the roads. Sorcerers and hedge-mages once kept towers and cave-holds near the Stonelands; their leavings still salt the hillsides with ward-stones, half-buried cellars, and stranger things.

The village has weathered its share of storms:

1357 DR: Orcs and hobgoblins threatened High Horn; Lord Tessaril called for royal aid as musters moved up the gorge.
1368 DR: The northwestern marches suffered rogue dragon depredations; Eveningstar kept watchfires while knights and wizards harried the beasts.
1370 DR (Goblin War): Eveningstar bled. Myrmeen Lhal used the village as a staging ground to retake Arabel; after the musters marched, orc bands struck at farms and fords until the Dragons beat them back.

Through famine years and fat harvests alike, the village endured—its market never long empty, its temple bells still ringing the light.

Places of Note

House of the Morning: The great temple complex, pastures and granaries within its bounds, its spires a landmark for miles. Pilgrims arrive at first light; even cynics admit its kitchens never turn the needy away.
Lonesome Tankard: Eveningstar’s hearth and rumor-mill. Caravans reserve rooms months in advance; bards find full purses here if they keep the taproom merry.
Low Lantern: A rough-edged night house for late travelers and guards off duty; the last door to close at night, the first to open before dawn.
Starwater Bridge & Ford: Everyday scenes of fishers, washerwomen, drovers, and children daring the spray; the first line of defense when trouble comes down the gorge.
High Pasture: Communal grazing within stout walls; the village can pen most of its animals here on alarm.
Blueleaf Portal: A living gate to Suzail, watched discreetly by temple and lordship both; abused only at peril.
Eveningstar Gorge: The breath of the north; fog banks roll like tides, and echoes carry oddly. In winter, claw-prints sometimes stitch the snow.

Just beyond the farms and hedgerows, the Haunted Halls brood in their ruin. The place has swallowed companies and spat out gibbering few; wise folk leave it to those who mistake luck for destiny.

Notable Folk

Lord Tessaril Winter: Steel-sure, sharp-eyed, and famously even-handed; her word held as much weight as any writ in these parts. Known to patrol incognito with only a cloak and a keen dagger—and a tressym named Firespark on her shoulder.
Lord Azana Winter: Heir to the charge in later years, keeping the village steady through changing times.
Tzin Tzummer: The herald; a man of neat ledgers, exacting memory, and surprising courage when blades are bare.
Auldo Morim: The steady-handed purser and clerk who makes Eveningstar’s coins add up and its tithes arrive on time.
Flaergan Hondh: A hard-jawed Purple Dragon captain known for turning raw villagers into a competent levy and for never losing the bridge.

What Visitors Should Know

Mind the hours. Past dusk, expect shuttered shops and quiet lanes; plan your business for morning or seek the Tankard’s common room.
Treat the tressym kindly. They’ll like you—or your sausages—either way; kindness keeps them from “liking” your purse strings.
Respect the temple. The House of the Morning is sanctuary in deed as well as name; its healers ask fair donations and take none from the desperate.
Ask before preaching. Temporary shrines are welcome with the lord’s leave, but loud zeal without permit earns a polite escort to the road.
Leave the Halls be. If you must test your luck, set your will in order and do not expect rescue.

Quiet, green, and stubbornly hopeful, Eveningstar is the kind of crossroads that holds a kingdom together: a place of bread and bells, of honest trade and watchful eyes, of temple lights before dawn and purple cloaks at the bridge. Many pass through; many more find, to their surprise, that they’ve come home.