“Count the breaths. Tie the ribbon. What is ours, we keep.”
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Captains reaching Realms End wait at the harbor mouth for Kaspian Redtide. The half-elf pilot climbs the lighthouse stair each dawn to read the water, then rows out to walk every ship in to the wooden piers, and nobody ever had to give him a title for it.
Ilvari Faelmoor, a Veridyan elf scholar, keeps a lamp lit at Realms End's small library, where caravan sages and visiting wizards trade knowledge and expeditions into the desert's ruins and stranger phenomena take shape.
Orrin Pellwick is a halfling go-between who brokers the quiet bargains of Realms End. He puts every handshake on paper, tears the page in two, and keeps Smuggler's Bay's tolerated trade honest enough that everyone can keep looking the other way.
