Maidenholm

More than just the home of the Maiden Druids, Maidenholm is one of the few remaining places where Elvenspring and elves (I’ll use the shorthand “elv-ish” in this article for convenience) and other kin attempt to live in harmony.

There’s more than just Elvenspring on Maidenholm

The GM’s Guide says (p. 41): “The grand temple of the Order is on the island of Maidenholm and is visited by both elves and Elvenspring. Members of other kin are generally not allowed on the island.”

Let’s take a closer look at that interesting word “generally”.

“Not normally allowed” just means “that you’re here is interesting”

For one thing, it just means that elves and Elvenspring are allowed in but any others have to make their case. So if a bunch of orcs and wolkin show up they’ll almost certainly be shown the door, but when my players (three Elvenspring, one human and one dwarf) show up, and the three Elvenspring vouch for the two non-elv-ish Kin, that should probably be pretty persuasive. Failing that, they can add “we have a long-lost message for you guys from Kalman Rodenfell, sent just as the blood mist fell”, or “one of us bears a shard of the Shardmaiden, gifted to her by her mentor”, or “we’re a well-organised small group with a complimentary array of skills, and we’re interesting in exploring the world and messing with it; maybe we could be your friends?”. There will be people in favour of rejecting them anyway, for reasons of stubbornness, tradition or flat-out racism, but eventually you’d expect the PCs to be let in.

It can also mean that non-elv-ish Kin are only allowed on a small part of the island. If you consider the Shardmaiden to be a prophet of Clay (GM’s Guide, ibid.) then it follows that there could be permanent ambassadors from other places of religious significance. Raven’s Purge (p. 109) says “The humans are said to have first [trodden] the soil of Ravenland at Pelagia”, so when they followed the Shardmaiden’s song and then landed somewhere else, that place can’t be far. And chances are that Farhaven, the current home of the Congregation of the Serpent, isn’t too far either, given how close Falender was, and how unlikely it would be for the Congregation of the Serpent to move west from there, following the retreating army that burned their city (GM’s Guide, p. 29).

Maidenholm is clearly a place of learning and religious (aka political) debate, so you could expect even weirder visitors from time to time, like Viraga Orcs, or moderate Rust Brothers. The arrival of someone like that should provoke all sorts of consternation, intricate plotting and frantic political machinations.

So: there’s a village or small town where people have their way of doing thing according to centuries-old traditions, but there’s also a mostly-separate part, walled off from the main bit but not entirely, because some people need to freely pass from one part to another. And some of the people in the small separate part have unusual opinions and motivations, which may threaten the academic position of some of the people inside. Do I need to mention “The Name of the Rose”, or were you already thinking about murder mysteries?

The Shardmaiden wouldn’t have turned anyone away

Non-religious guests can also be expected. The Shardmaiden learning to mould the earth (Raven’s Purge p. 18), whether actually or merely allegorically from Clay, implies that she knew about Stone-singing, and there should still be a tradition of dwarves coming to Maidenholm to learn from the elv-ish Stone Singers there, and/or the Order of Maidens inviting dwarven Stone Singers to learn from them.

More controversially, an order interested in fighting demons should have a small number of tame / controlled demons in its home base, where order members could practice fighting them. Are these gentle demons who wish to atone from their violent acts when invading Ravenland, or have they maybe cut a deal where they rat on other demons to protect their own skin? And/or do Maiden Druids occasionally have to venture forth into the wilderness, maybe even as far as the lands controlled by Kartorda and the Rust Brothers, to capture demons alive and bring them back to Maidenholm so their sisters can learn how to fight them?

What does the island look like?

The island is ringed by steep, jagged cliffs that seabirds nest on, with a handful of small bays and coves, mostly on the western side, where seals congregate on rocky beaches. One of the bays is a reasonably-deep natural harbour, and this is where visitors will arrive. A road winds uphill past fields and orchards to the town itself, which sprawls up the side of a steep hill. The eastern side of the island, meanwhile, is wilder, more mountainous and forested; this is where the elves have made their home.

The Grand Temple

The Grand Temple resembles, in function if not architecture, a modern-day US Presidential Library, rather than an ancient temple to Zeus or Jupiter: the Shardmaiden is respected for what she did, not because she was a literal goddess, after all. So there are no religious services or sacrifices, but instead many statues of the Shardmaiden in her various guises and interests: landing wide-eyed on Ravenland, surrounded by her Elvenspring children, grieving at the death of Morander (maiden, mother and crone, for those keeping track); working with stone, making water-going elf bodies; rejecting Algared, and then much later taking the decision to shatter her heart ruby.

You may decide for yourself whether this flurry of statues genuinely reflects an attempt to not create idols of the person in whose name the town was founded, and upon whose glory it relies to function, as a centre of religious significance.

In the section devoted to the Shardmaiden as a sister of the Heart of the Sky, there will be statues of Gemelda, Neyd, Nebulos, Iridne, Algared and Viridia. Whether the statue of Viridia is of her before or after she fought Scrome says a lot about the moral and political outlook of the people currently in charge of the temple. (Are there other statues, depicting different takes on history, that are currently in back rooms and not on display?)

As a ceremonial info-dump building, there could be any number of additional legends mentioned in passing here: you should be able to find out at least some things about Stanengist, Merigall, Gall-Eye, Scrome and the Vale of the Dead, for instance.

The rest of the town

The Shardmaiden arrived on the island and immediately started trying to learn as much as possible, so I think it’s safe to say that there’s at least one set of buildings, whether abandoned or still being used, for each type of knowledge she ever explored. A series of sturdy buildings home to demon- and counter-demon research (these may sometimes be partially or entirely buried for extra safety); unnaturally flat areas dotted with sudden pillars of various shapes and sizes where stone singers learn their trade; a luxuriant garden with a variety of micro-climates, that official records say was a gift from Neyd.

There is a large open-air amphitheatre where plays and concerts can be put on during the summer months, as well as a number of smaller indoor venues for rehearsals, more intimate productions, and when it’s raining. Gullible visitors may be excused for thinking that this amphitheatre, with its excellent acoustics, is where the Shardmaiden sang to Raven and the humans; but its construction dates to after the Split, and in any case it sits at the top of the hill, facing west, so that the sound of music or declamation can echo through the winding streets below, or entertain people passing by an open window in the larger buildings’ upper stories or towers. There is a smaller amphitheatre on the eastern edge of the island, near where the elves live, with similarly-superb acoustics, whose design this one clearly copies; but it’s smaller, simpler, rougher.

Maidenholm’s elevation to a significant location for both elves and non-elves means that there are numerous libraries and halls of records, devoted to elf memories, diplomatic and religious documents, histories of the various Kin, and of course art (paintings, reliefs, sculptures, but also epic histories and poems) of all kinds. As mentioned, there is a separate diplomatic section for temporary or permanent foreigners.

The Shardmaiden’s passion for all things new and interesting, and the subsequent undirected expansion of the town as the Order of Maidens gained members, means that there is little overarching plan or design behind the town. Wooden, wattle-and-daub, brick and stone buildings stand side by side; comparatively large areas of the town have been abandoned for centuries, while others are home to a bustle of activity. Streets exist where there were gaps between buildings or people wanted to go, with no further Hausmannian grand design requested nor implemented; where there were no gaps between buildings, people have knocked through doors anyway, or built covered walkways for the rainy months.

What does Maidenholm feel like?

Regardless of how many people have ever lived in Maidenholm – before the Bloodmist it’s plausible to say that there were hundreds, if not a thousand or two – there will be fewer now. Exactly how many determines the overall feel of the place.

Hamlet

The bare minimum is 20-30 Elvenspring (of which about 5 children), 5 elves and a couple of human diplomats. This is enough to keep everything maintained and everyone fed, but if anyone keeps watch it’s the villages on the mainland, and maybe whoever’s on gate duty.

Everybody helps out at harvest-time, and there’s a rota of everyday chores that you can’t shirk. Plenty of parts of the town have been abandoned. The diplomats have pretty much gone native, and they know of many of the secret passageways between the town and the diplomatic area.

Village

The next stage is about 70 Elvenspring. You may as well double the number of permanent elves, and add a handful of land elves coming and going. Double the diplomats and make them more consistently chaperoned.

There is a lot more specialisation going on at this point: whether people do this for their entire life (unlikely given that you might live for 300 years) or whether there are occasional job shake-ups, there are people who do nothing day-to-day but fish, farm, mind herds, administer, research. There’s someone in charge of every area of interest, but there still might only be e.g. one stone-singer. Everybody still knows each other.

Town

We’re now talking about 400-odd people. If numbers have always been this high, even during the Bloodmist, hooray; if things got better recently and the town needed extra people, expect a number of the inhabitants to be human guest-workers, because Elvenspring don’t breed that quickly. Elf numbers have barely gone up, but there are more temporary visitors from the Dankwood or the Stillmist. There is regular traffic with Pelagia, Farhaven and even Amber’s Peak.

Tensions and factions are now based on “how do I benefit?” rather than “do I like this person?” because there are too many people for you to know them all. If there are significant human numbers, expect this to be a cause of friction.

There is a dedicated navy patrolling the surrounding sea, with the occasional help of an ocean-going elf. Feeding this many people is a challenge, and the dedicated farmers and fishers occasionally come into conflict with the natural scientists who want them to stop killing puffins (which aspect of the Shardmaiden’s life the historians choose to emphasise determines who wins the argument this time).

All types of academic research are fully-staffed now; there are regular performances at the amphitheatre. Now that the Bloodmist is gone, scholars are reviving the idea the ancient idea that Elvenspring children from nearby villages should be sent here for their education, maybe along with craftspeople to help repair and maintain the buildings, or some other way of contributing to the children’s future alma mater.

The other half of the island: elves

Exactly how many elves there are depends on a number of factors that you need to consider. How interesting being a mer-elf is: is it better to live in a truly three-dimensional space (swimming is a far more attainable goal than flying for someone who has to weigh at least 30kg), or to be dry and listen to birds? How useful a base Maidenholm is for sea-elves: is there enough interesting stuff near here, or would sea-elf explorers have subsequently found a base of operation that was even more interesting, either on a far island or hundreds of metres below the surface? Fashion and accidents also have their part to play.

Talk of “the” Shardmaiden might be misleading also. Even if a single fragment of the Heart of the Sky produced the original Shardmaiden, she might have then divided herself to research more things, following Neyd’s example, and there’s no reason to think that all would have subsequently rejoined her. (Everything that we know about the Shardmaiden is that she’s determined, bordering on headstrong.) Or maybe they did, but they preserved a certain amount of themselves (which the Shardmaiden would probably have found interesting), so that when the Shardmaiden as a whole decided to keep a core of herself but otherwise shatter her heart, to see what Maiden druids could do with the resulting shards, some of her component parts decided against it. So there might be elves here who were once part of the Shardmaiden, although they obviously won’t call themselves the Shardmaiden, nor the mysterious name she had before.

If you want to suggest that the Shardmaiden was many elves, and not one, you could hint at it by there still being a tradition of complex multi-part choral harmonies performed in either the modern amphitheatre in town, or especially the ancient one near the elves.

What do sea-elves look like?

The Shardmaiden was interested in how earth and water came together, so had every reason to build a hybrid elf body that could swim really well. The fact that she subsequently sat on the shore of Maidenholm and sang the humans to safety has pretty much everyone thinking about a mermaid with a fish tail and a seashell bra.

But if you were experimenting with marine forms, there’s no way you’d start out with a body so optimised for water locomotion that you ran the risk of getting beached. You’d want something that could swim quickly, and for long periods of time, so you’d probably be looking at a streamlined body, and a way of preserving heat so you can stay out at sea for longer before you need to come home and warm up. (Oh, and huge lungs.) But while you’re still working things out, you’ll want to hedge your bets and still be able to get about on land with a modicum of speed, which Ariel can’t do.

There’s a variety of body shapes that could work, and if you want to say your elves mostly look like seals or sea lions that’s a perfectly sound choice; but I think the Shardmaiden would have started off with a still basically vertical body shape, and that means something more closely resembling an Emperor Penguin. So: big chest for the lungs, blubber-like subcutaneous fat everywhere (including face; think Renaissance-style voluptuous features rather than cheekbones that could cut glass), mostly-fused lower limbs for swimming power, but still separate feet so you can walk in a somewhat-hobbled manner on land. As to what the flesh looks like, you can make plausible cases for seal-like smooth skin, fish scales, or otter-like fur. Maybe they do a half-and-half thing; maybe it varies from elf to elf according to personal preference?

If there are any elves that are happy spending most of their time at sea and barely coming onto land at all, they may well have another, even more marine-adapted body type.

Visiting the Maidenholm elves

The elves typically keep to themselves, although they may be occasionally seen in town from time to time, especially if there’s an important civic event that local Elvenspring dignitaries feel should be graced by an elf’s rare and impressive presence. (Good luck making them wear the fine clothes you picked out for them, though.) The navy may occasionally work with elves; fishers may encounter them out at sea, and shepherds or woodspeople may have business that takes them into the hills to the east.

The eastern coast of the island is regularly pummelled by huge waves crashing in from the open ocean, but at the sheltered end of a small inlet, the elves have built a dock. You can usually find a number of skiffs and fishing boats there, as well as the small passenger ferry boat from the grand temple when it arrives. The beach quickly makes way for a coniferous forest, home to tree houses of various sizes where the elves live when they’re on land: small huts for sleeping, larger ones for eating and bathing, and a grand hall braced on the lower branches of three great pine trees.

Typically elves will swim out of the inlet and wade out onto the stoney beach, but there are ropes and ladders on one side of the dock for elves to climb up, and more ropes hanging from the trees. If you want to spice up “it’s elves, of course they have houses in the trees” with “…and here’s a weird penguin/elf hybrid swinging through the trees like Tarzan”, be my guest.

The grand hall is where any non-elf visitors will be granted an audience, but also where the elves go through their evening ritual of memory-sorting. Honoured visitors may be invited to contribute memories of their own to what is effectively a guestbook, which should be suitably awe-inspiring as their memories emerge from their head as a glow of coruscating colour, and then float towards a large recording crystal in the centre of the room. Otherwise, curators come here to organise saved memories, or to research memory records (while copies of the most significant memories can be found in the grand temple, the elves do not allow copies to be made of the most precious or contentious memories).

The hall can reconfigure itself depending on requirements. If an elf is talking about their daily memories, the other elves should be seated around them but lower-down, like in a TED talk; if guests are invited to explain themselves, they should be at the bottom level, with elves in throne-like ceremonial chairs gazing down on them from all angles. When the hall is needed for something else, it’s like someone riffle-shuffling a pine cone: smooth surfaces rotate and reveal previously-hidden shelves filled with memory crystals, while rows of seats or ceremonial thrones collapse into walls.

The elves spend much of their at sea, and joining them for a swim may be a challenge, especially in the colder months and/or if the PCs don’t have easy access to some kind of water-breathing equipment. If they can, and are allowed, lucky PCs may get to see the delicately-carved underwater grottos the elves have hollowed out in the nearby shallow continental shelf, surrounded by kelp forests and shoals of fish of all kinds. The local octopus are too small to cause them any trouble, and the elves have some kind of arrangement with the sharks and toothed whales, but anyone contemplating larceny may want to consider how lucky they feel about that protection also applying to uninvited guests.