Lastor stepped into the great hall of Rivendell, his eyes adjusting to the soft glow of the elvish lamps. The air was cool, carrying with it the scent of autumn leaves, mingling with the faint aroma of pipe weed that lingered in the air. “Lastor, it has been far too long,” Aragorn’s deep, resonant voice echoed through the dimly lit chamber as he rose from his chair.
Laurelin Archives
User login
Who's new
- Mithildae
- Lindoliel
- Acantha
- Mairi
- Samfer
Events
|
Dwarven Caravan Market May 28th, 2026 |
|
Jolly Bell Tavern Night May 29th, 2026 |
|
Merchant's Guild Council Meeting May 30th, 2026 |
|
'Thrimidgeday Returns' - A Story-based RP Celebration at Buckland Faire May 30th, 2026 |
|
A Merry Anniversary June 6th, 2026 |





