Welcome to Urenda
There are beautiful mountains surrounding the ruined city of Urenda. Covered with deciduous thickets interspersed with cliffs of hard stone, for miles around they are a source of inspiration and hope to visitors arriving by the High Road. The last stretch to Urenda is a raised section that cuts through a markedly floral valley next to one of the highest peaks of the Thutilan Mountain Range. Weary travelers from all around will come to this place to see the port city shining where the road disappeared on the horizon through a frame of vegetation rare to all but this last coast of Reath. They walk along a corridor of verdant life rare in the New World and smile; preceded by such a vibrant display against the dark turn of time, Urenda had to be all it promised and more. Travelers go forward, and at the end of the valley, the section of the High Road culminates in a plaza of sorts, bridging the narrow pass. The plaza overlooks the circular basin 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 ray of hope, the center, raised tier of the city is brightly lit in the distance. Torches on every corner, even during the dismal day, burn without fail each hour. From this point, visitors see the Relanthon's Priests' outpost: a small yet securely built stone hut half hidden in the undergrowth. They'll help any who need in passing through the outskirts of the city, where shadows still linger. 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 without, it is a rigorous 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 their own calloused hand, travelers drag themselves through biting pools of darkness incarnate and fight off all manner of beasts. At first, they trudge through the fields; they might meet some of the brave souls that stay to watch tentative crops of grain and corn. Then, they transition to the city proper. The wooden wall that once surrounded the city lays 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, but smart enough not to strike alone. The area is not as treacherous as some of the neighboring regions, but it is obvious that these creatures only gather here because the mortals are congregating within. They rarely attack the travelers and visiting merchants, whether or not it is because their plans have been foiled one too many times, , or because they are biding their time, is unsure. They sit in the shadows and watch. They call their kin from their infernal home planes and inhabit the flimsy structures once belonging to the mortals. It will not be long before the threat is addressed.
The center tier of the city is physically higher from the rest due originally to geography then enhanced to make an effect. It rises close to ten feet above the area around it. The existing wall was built higher 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 notably tall, almost thrice a human man's height. Unattended visitors travel along it, hopefully not for too long, until they find one of three gates. There is a clear path along the wall and many others run through the outer city. Gates are the only way through or around the barrier; the space surrounding it has been demolished or excavated to prevent unwanted visitors, and the inside is regularly patrolled. The guards eye one's approach warily if they are alone; they have grown used to deception.
The streets of the 'city' are dreary and dull and it all seems like a gimmick in the face of grim odds. A sense of apathy permeates the air, but the set edge in the eyes and jaws of the Priests are a source of inspiration to keep the settlement 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 set up kiosks, there is a cathedral and an adjacent inn; this is where most of the activity of the settlement occurs. It is there the priests gather, 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 mostly live spread throughout the center tier in estates once owned by nobility and wealthy merchants. A large family or group of families occupy one space, and then another group occupies an estate a few blocks down the line. Or, they are a part of one of the four agricultural groups that tend the fields. 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. The interior is much nicer than one would expect. They have repaired and decorated it, and although there isn't a plethora of drink available, it is cozy and amiable. Many of the citizens spend meal times here, gathered together to feel the protection they feel is guaranteed by numbers. A few travelers often dot the scene. A tattered sign hangs on the wall near the bar, urging readers to drop by the cathedral and give what tithe they can afford. 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 without, it is a rigorous 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 their own calloused hand, travelers drag themselves through biting pools of darkness incarnate and fight off all manner of beasts. At first, they trudge through the fields; they might meet some of the brave souls that stay to watch tentative crops of grain and corn. Then, they transition to the city proper. The wooden wall that once surrounded the city lays 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, but smart enough not to strike alone. The area is not as treacherous as some of the neighboring regions, but it is obvious that these creatures only gather here because the mortals are congregating within. They rarely attack the travelers and visiting merchants, whether or not it is because their plans have been foiled one too many times, , or because they are biding their time, is unsure. They sit in the shadows and watch. They call their kin from their infernal home planes and inhabit the flimsy structures once belonging to the mortals. It will not be long before the threat is addressed.
The center tier of the city is physically higher from the rest due originally to geography then enhanced to make an effect. It rises close to ten feet above the area around it. The existing wall was built higher 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 notably tall, almost thrice a human man's height. Unattended visitors travel along it, hopefully not for too long, until they find one of three gates. There is a clear path along the wall and many others run through the outer city. Gates are the only way through or around the barrier; the space surrounding it has been demolished or excavated to prevent unwanted visitors, and the inside is regularly patrolled. The guards eye one's approach warily if they are alone; they have grown used to deception.
The streets of the 'city' are dreary and dull and it all seems like a gimmick in the face of grim odds. A sense of apathy permeates the air, but the set edge in the eyes and jaws of the Priests are a source of inspiration to keep the settlement 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 set up kiosks, there is a cathedral and an adjacent inn; this is where most of the activity of the settlement occurs. It is there the priests gather, 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 mostly live spread throughout the center tier in estates once owned by nobility and wealthy merchants. A large family or group of families occupy one space, and then another group occupies an estate a few blocks down the line. Or, they are a part of one of the four agricultural groups that tend the fields. 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. The interior is much nicer than one would expect. They have repaired and decorated it, and although there isn't a plethora of drink available, it is cozy and amiable. Many of the citizens spend meal times here, gathered together to feel the protection they feel is guaranteed by numbers. A few travelers often dot the scene. A tattered sign hangs on the wall near the bar, urging readers to drop by the cathedral and give what tithe they can afford. Things have never been easy for the Urendites, but as of late things have become... decidedly worse.
The early morning sun glowed quite dimly as it rose over the ruins of Reath. Urenda came to life slowly; first, a few priests and their accompaniments slunk out of the cathedral and through the southern gate at the brink of dawn, and then hours later once the sun had risen in full Reether emerged to prop open the inn's door, signaling it's readiness for visitors. Although it was never lively, there were usually at least a dozen people milling about the main road at this hour. The air was sticky and strange and carried the scent of something horrifyingly foreign and familiar both. Heads turned to the sky to see nothing but calm, gray skies with no indication of inclement weather... Which in and of itself was odd. One could count on almost daily rain on this part of the coast. A light breeze ruffled the capes of wanders in stead of the biting gales that often screamed through the basin that housed the city. The Priests have called for forward scouts to be sent out, though few have taken the call for fear what storm this calm has brought. Of course, they were also looking for people to scout the hoard growing in the ruins of the Coastal Observatory, and investigate the rumors of a hooded mortal figure appearing at night near the walls, and to go and report the recovery of the Hillick Farm...
It was a bit before high-sun that the visiting merchants shuffled out of the inn to set up their kiosks and displays. A larger dwarven woman sat, looking uninterested, next to a small caravan with a handful of crates that had been unloaded and used as a display. A few pieces of jewelry glittered from atop the boxes, and to the experience eye a few of them offered just more than decoration. But more than a few times had the stout merchant turned her head on those who offended her with low offers. Across the way and near the end of the road, out of eye- and ear-shot of the cathedral, a smarmy man in a long leather coat had set out and opened a few rucksacks containing salvaged arms and armor. He had nothing spectacular to his name, although his voice and proclamations would tell you otherwise. Urendites suspiciously cross the road before coming across him. Every now and then, Reether poked his head out, keeping an eye on the merchant who thought his only policing force was the elves in robes.
Inside the cathedral was just as lively as ever, dispite the condition outside. Initiates and apprentices scurried about, transporting food or supplies from cathedral to inn to house and back. A robed Priest can sometimes be seen, although they are rarely able to stop and talk. Briefly, High Priestess Eletha will appear near the grand staircase, but only to speak with whomever she needed, and whisk away almost as soon as she had come.
