Barandir's Bucolic Barony

An exquisite guildhall, built within the upper market castle ward in Eskarya's capital. Built as a gentleman's club for the elite of Eskarya, though in practice is the home and place of worship for the Archfey Kalandaer.

Appearance
"Mortals are hilarious. This place, a shambling mound of rare materials and exquisite individuals, situated in the most stuck-up area of this Gods-forsaken city, cost literal tonnes of gold to purchase and spruce up. And yet...they believe me when I call it 'bucolic'? They think this is rustic. It is anything but. 

The first floor contains a roaring fireplace with a lovely mahogany table beside it. The stone floor is a pain and a half to maintain, but unlike some other businesses, we don't spill our drinks and food everywhere. Animals, truly. There's a kitchen, wherein the lovely Valindra prepares meals and that beautiful wine we provide. Few uninitiated notice the eyelike decorations over the hearth, the Satyrs' horns carved into the chalices, the Sylvan script detailing what we intend on doing to this lovely plane.

Upstairs is where you will find an office, of sorts, a meeting ground of interested elite. Mortals, calling themselves 'elite', I know - it's absurd. Nonetheless, they enjoy the decor. And the ceremony. And the ritual.

A little side-room contains the piece de resistance, excuse my Elvish. Gold and gold and gold. Candles with amber flame, effigies, incense. All before a set of statues, carven from would and lacquered. I had Iris do them for me.

The first, carved of dark wood, is an individual, tall and proud, covered head to toe in eyes. Even his horns have eyes. I enjoy it. The second is carved from a delicate golden wood, brazenly holding a longsword. I wonder who that could be. The pair stand over less detailed carvings. Some with horns, some with bared fangs, others look just like you. We may not make a bid for this world, but chaos rules all the same."

Function
"All nobles have their vices. Especially ones so foolish and desperate they've ended up in Elysia. Some enjoy a drink; easy to handle. Easy to put on a leash. Same with ones who enjoy boys or girls or anyone else too much. Get them a source, an outlet, and they're yours. Give me time and I can provide both. It's never enough for them, though. They love the exotic, they love taboo, they love secrets. I can give them all three.

These are interesting times. Fledgling religions are being founded, old gods are being discovered and re-worshipped, other gods are being imported...I hear a lot about this old dog called Zitus who keeps a new dog called Vallirk on a leash. Both are surprisingly popular. But popularity means that there is always someone who wants to be trendy, someone who wants to go against the popular choice. People who want to rebel.

They're never as extreme as I enjoy, not at first. You have to lull them into that. You get a hold of their vices and provide them with...sustenance. But you break the norm a bit. Use a foreign, exotic phrase; tell them to wish each other health as they do in the Feywild; tell stories of interesting lands. See who bites.

Then, you toe the line. Go a bit further. Tell a more bawdy story, point out some interesting facts about the world around us, tell them about ''Elysia. ''But always make it feel exclusive. They won't care if it's not. This is the point where you (me), as an individual now welcomed into noble society - recognised as a prince, express some discomfort about the current state of things.

Let this sit.

Then you keep going, keep pressing on, keep toeing that line. Then you invite them to an even more exclusive club. Give them a name, as a collective, give them an identity, make them pay a ridiculous entry fee, have a ridiculous initiation ceremony! I don't care about the money, of course. That's why I pay you so well, Val, my darling.

Now these nobleman cast interesting glances at one another when an uninitiated is in their ranks. They give me a knowing nod. They spread my word, my influence subtly. They now live in a world where their superior is an Elven prince, a Fey prince, a 'Demigod. 'They mingle with me and with a dryad on a daily basis. This has become their norm. The extreme. I wonder what would happen if I pulled the rug from underneath them.

We have a word for that, you know...Habal."