There are beautiful mountains surrounding the ruined city of Urenda. Covered with deciduous thickets and cliffs of hard stone, for miles around it is a source of inspiration and hope to the visitors arriving by the High Road. It cuts through a particularly floral valley that stretches for several leagues and ends on a raised platform, bridging a narrow pass in the mountains, overlooking the enormous cove in which the city sits. Travelers can see the destroyed buildings and swatches of burnt housing that, just a mere two decades before, were bustling with lively activity. Acres of land, once tended, sprawl in patches around the city proper. 'Tis truly a sad sight, to see the active shadows on the fringes of the settlement. But, standing as a beacon of hope, the center, raised tier of the city is brightly lit in the distance. Torches on every corner, even during the dismal day, burned without fail every hour. From this point, visitors see the Priest's outpost. They'll help any who need in passing through the outskirts of the city, where shadows still linger. If the traveler can make it on their own, they will be asked to lend aid to the city during their stay. Desperation dulls the eyes of those in the outpost; any and all help is appreciated.
Whether one travels to the city with the help of the Priests or not, it is a six hour trek through a maze plagued by stray shadows and the remnants of demon hoards that once waged war upon the helpless native mortals. Through the labor of the Priests or your own calloused hand, you drag yourself through the biting pools of darkness incarnate and fight off all manner of beasts. At first, they travel through the fields; they might meet some of the brave Priests and citizens that stay to watch tentative crops of grain and corn. Then, they transition to the city proper. The wooden wall that once surround the city laid in ruins, assaulted by demons until it crumbled to dust. Bones and bricks litter the streets. The occasional demon or shadow scuttles across the way just out of sight, waiting for an opportunity.
The area is not as treacherous as some of the neighboring places, but it is obvious that these creatures only gather here because the mortals are congregating within. The center tier of the city is physically raised from the rest due to geography, rising close to ten feet from the area around it. The wall was brought up and has been embellished by the Priests: it is now a barrier of raw earth and constructional debris completely amputating the center tier from the hell below. It is incredibly tall, almost thrice one's height. Visitors travel along it, hopefully not for too long, until they find one of three gates. There has been and there is still a clear path forward along the wall; there are many through the city outskirts that lead to current Urenda. Gates are the only way through the barrier; the space around it had been demolished or excavated to prevent unwanted visitors, and the inside is regularly patrolled. The guards eye your approach warily if you are alone; they have grown used to deception.
The streets of the 'city' are dreary and it all seems like a gimmick in the face of grim odds. A sense of hopelessness permeates the air, but the set edge in the eyes and jaws of the Priests were a source of inspiration to keep going. A few caravans are displaying their wares; they sell all odds and ends, but none display food or drink. No doubt, the visitors have become accustomed to this; most hoard such provisions for themselves. On the main thoroughfare of the settlement, where the caravans had set up kiosks, there was a cathedral and an adjacent inn; this was where most of the activity of the settlement occurred. It was there the priests gathered, in a building once sacred to the Great Destroyer. Using their spells they create what food and water they can and ration it out to their inhabitants daily. Those in need can get a meal for free from the Priests, they rarely turn any away, although it is expected that one pays forth the kindness in some way. The inhabitants of Urenda live mostly in the cathedral, and any left over turn to the nearby building that once held various shops and services. There are approximately one hundred 'permanent residents' of Urenda. The inn houses around ten to twelve travelers at a time. With so many gathered mortals in one place, Urenda is often unlike anything else a traveler has seen in the new world.
A few members of the community work in the tavern cooking what food the Priests' wrangle together and providing service for visitors. Inside, it was a nice place. They had repaired and decorated it, and although there isn't a plethora of drink available, it was cozy and amiable. Many of the citizens spend meal times here, gathered together to feel the protection A few travelers often dot the scene, and this day was no different. And, also like every other day, a tattered sign hangs on the wall near the bar, urging readers to drop by the cathedral and give what tithe they can afford. Stray coughing can be heard around town; rumors that an unknown sickness is coming to Urenda circulate. Abomination activity in the surrounding areas is increasing. The rain from Reath's dull sky was darkened with flotsam from the effects of the Creeping Death. Things have never been easy for the Urendites, but as of late things have become... decidedly worse.
Whether one travels to the city with the help of the Priests or not, it is a six hour trek through a maze plagued by stray shadows and the remnants of demon hoards that once waged war upon the helpless native mortals. Through the labor of the Priests or your own calloused hand, you drag yourself through the biting pools of darkness incarnate and fight off all manner of beasts. At first, they travel through the fields; they might meet some of the brave Priests and citizens that stay to watch tentative crops of grain and corn. Then, they transition to the city proper. The wooden wall that once surround the city laid in ruins, assaulted by demons until it crumbled to dust. Bones and bricks litter the streets. The occasional demon or shadow scuttles across the way just out of sight, waiting for an opportunity.
The area is not as treacherous as some of the neighboring places, but it is obvious that these creatures only gather here because the mortals are congregating within. The center tier of the city is physically raised from the rest due to geography, rising close to ten feet from the area around it. The wall was brought up and has been embellished by the Priests: it is now a barrier of raw earth and constructional debris completely amputating the center tier from the hell below. It is incredibly tall, almost thrice one's height. Visitors travel along it, hopefully not for too long, until they find one of three gates. There has been and there is still a clear path forward along the wall; there are many through the city outskirts that lead to current Urenda. Gates are the only way through the barrier; the space around it had been demolished or excavated to prevent unwanted visitors, and the inside is regularly patrolled. The guards eye your approach warily if you are alone; they have grown used to deception.
The streets of the 'city' are dreary and it all seems like a gimmick in the face of grim odds. A sense of hopelessness permeates the air, but the set edge in the eyes and jaws of the Priests were a source of inspiration to keep going. A few caravans are displaying their wares; they sell all odds and ends, but none display food or drink. No doubt, the visitors have become accustomed to this; most hoard such provisions for themselves. On the main thoroughfare of the settlement, where the caravans had set up kiosks, there was a cathedral and an adjacent inn; this was where most of the activity of the settlement occurred. It was there the priests gathered, in a building once sacred to the Great Destroyer. Using their spells they create what food and water they can and ration it out to their inhabitants daily. Those in need can get a meal for free from the Priests, they rarely turn any away, although it is expected that one pays forth the kindness in some way. The inhabitants of Urenda live mostly in the cathedral, and any left over turn to the nearby building that once held various shops and services. There are approximately one hundred 'permanent residents' of Urenda. The inn houses around ten to twelve travelers at a time. With so many gathered mortals in one place, Urenda is often unlike anything else a traveler has seen in the new world.
A few members of the community work in the tavern cooking what food the Priests' wrangle together and providing service for visitors. Inside, it was a nice place. They had repaired and decorated it, and although there isn't a plethora of drink available, it was cozy and amiable. Many of the citizens spend meal times here, gathered together to feel the protection A few travelers often dot the scene, and this day was no different. And, also like every other day, a tattered sign hangs on the wall near the bar, urging readers to drop by the cathedral and give what tithe they can afford. Stray coughing can be heard around town; rumors that an unknown sickness is coming to Urenda circulate. Abomination activity in the surrounding areas is increasing. The rain from Reath's dull sky was darkened with flotsam from the effects of the Creeping Death. Things have never been easy for the Urendites, but as of late things have become... decidedly worse.
Several elven initiates and helpful citizens roamed the grand hall of the cathedral, compiling reports, cleaning, or otherwise chatting and making themselves available to those who might need. There was a tension in the air, as, like days prior, their morning had held a few cases of the sudden sickness that had appeared in the citizens and even priests that resided mostly in outlying fields. As of now, their experienced healers were keeping the patients stable, but none of the fifteen who were lying in the clinic had shown any signs of improvement. The initiates and younger Priests were starting to worry despite the warnings against it from their elders, and the general public was starting to catch on. A few citizens had started a bit of an argument with one of the head Priests of the sect, and his lack of answers did not sway the crowd in the Priests' favor.
Two caravans displayed wares on the main thoroughfare of the city. One had a wagon drawn by a mule. Scattered on the wagon was various scavenged weapons and armor fragments. The merchants, a stout dwarf with hard eyes and his son, stood rigidly watching the cart. On the opposite side, a human couple sat on an outstretched cloth, dried herbs and roots set out along with a few simple salves and poultices. Citizens meander around as well, but they frequented the more permanent inn and cathedral. The summer day was hot and as bright as it could be under the dimmed sun, the coastal air muggy and salty.
Inside the inn there was strained laughter and forced smiles with the visitors. The Urendites were showing the strain they were under, but tried to hide it from those who came through the coastal settlement. The locals scarfed down their meals and left in a hurry, retreating to the cathedral or their nearby home. The barkeeps wiped surfaces nervously, chatting loudly and frequently to hide their internal discomfort. A few Priests were in the inn as well, eating and keeping tabs on their charges. The day was winding down to a close, the sun had started its descent, and the people were slowly preparing themselves to, in some time, retreat to the safety indoors.