⚔ Aᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ ⚔

Wheloon, once a modest riverside town known for its painted wagons and vibrant trade along the Wyvernflow, now festers behind high stone walls as one of Cormyr’s darkest legacies. After the chaos of Mystra’s death and the eruption of the Spellplague, the Crown seized upon the town’s location—isolated yet accessible—and transformed it into a prison city. Suspected devotees of Shar, Netherese spies, rogue mages, and seditious voices were herded into Wheloon, including its own innocent citizens, many of whom had no chance to flee. Now, a grim experiment in containment, the city is patrolled by Purple Dragons and War Wizards who rarely venture beyond the outer checkpoints. Inside, makeshift factions have formed among the trapped—some seeking survival, others revenge. Rumors speak of secret rituals, shadowy powers, and an underground resistance pushing back against both their captors and fellow inmates.

A pall of gray mist often hangs over Wheloon, clinging to its crumbling battlements and weather-stained guard towers like a funeral shroud. The walls, once painted with vibrant trade sigils, are now scarred with gouges and old scorch marks. Inside, buildings sag with neglect, their shutters long broken and doors reinforced with scavenged iron. Streets that once echoed with merchant calls now reverberate with hushed voices, the rattle of chains, and the distant clang of iron boots. The river stinks of decay, its once-busy docks half-sunken and overgrown. Lanterns flicker with unstable light, casting long, shifting shadows across alleys where whispered plots fester. A sense of despair and watchful paranoia permeates the air, interrupted only by the sudden crackle of magical wards or the guttural chant of a secret cult in the dead of night.