IC [Shadow of the Demon Lord] Godbreakers

Darkeus

...is still laughing
Validated User
Last Hope is a small village of about 100 people located near the border of The Duchy of Tildus and Caecras. It is located off of an old trade route that has declined in importance since the train from Vanderburn to Georgetown was completed. Last Hope is definitely a rural village, with the town proper being more of a gathering of houses and shacks for the better off and downtrodden, respectively, of the area. A blacksmith, tannery and leather work shop are located on Commerce Square. A brothel still lingers from the town's more prosperous days and in front if it, (If almost it is hiding it from sight) is the Ribald's Reeve, the local watering hole. Surrounding this commercial area are more houses. Far off to the North of town is the Mayor's house, the Sheriff's House (When he visits the village) and the smaller in comparison Constable's house. Along the main road is (in order from east to West) The Temple of the Holy Finger and the old cemetery (The new one is outside the village), the General store, some houses, The Constable's Office and jail, and an Abandoned Warehouse at the west end of the road.

The village is surrounded by thick woods which contain several woodcutters’ homes and a small lumber mill. To the west and east the village is surrounded by farms and a mill. There is a lake to the south is a medium sized lake that is surrounded by several huts for fisherman and a small fishery. Since trade has died down, agriculture, lumber and fishing are the lifeblood of the village.
 

The Discerning Gentleman

Has Transcended
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Thalzatt doesn't have a home exactly, he is a transient of sorts, usually habiting the woods just outside of town, the lake to scavenge fish, or even the old graveyard because of its emptiness. But today is different, Thalzatt lurks in the shadows of the abandoned warehouse at the Western end of the road. His cat-like pupils narrow into thin slits as he peers out from behind the rough splintered door of the old warehouse and into the glare of the evening sun. It has been a while since he has been this far into town, and since his kind is looked down upon, he is cautious in his approach. He reaches one mottled green hand down to scratch at his one itchy sock as he scans the streets.
"Mmnnnnmph..."
 

stinkyfool

Registered User
Validated User
Varen sits heavily on an old bench in Commerce Square. He breaks off a chunk of the loaf of bread that sits in his satchel, and pops it into his mouth to idly chew it. The bread was part of a grateful payment for having set the broken forearm of one of the blacksmith's apprentices. The apprentice had learned the hard way that he wasn't yet strong enough to move an anvil all by himself. Varen allowed himself a few moments to sit and collect his thoughts before he set off again to find his way home.

OOC:
Darkeus Darkeus .. any preference for where Varen has been crashing in town? An old hut, abandoned building, tent, or just moving around?
 

Cannonball

So bouncy!
Validated User
The spectre of once prosperous trade still haunted Last Hope. The people, here at least, seemed not quite sullen as the darkened eyes Aoife had seen elsewhere on the road. Or, if nothing else, her coin was proving good enough and her stories at least a little welcome…

With slate to lip, she peered from the window of her accommodation: the Ribald’s Reeve. Though now unused to guests, there had been a room to spare – and Aoife enjoyed a fair rent for a place both warm and dry…if a little raucous come the evening.

From her vantage point, she sketched the comers and goers below: imagining the people behind their sunken features; putting words in their mouths and stories behind their illusory lives. There was less to most than she’d hoped. But more than nothing if one cared to look. The superstitions, especially, might be fertile fodder for a frightful yarn or three!
 

bleys21

Registered User
Validated User
After several days hunting, Fist returned home, butchered and traded the meat for some other food and supplies, and sits nursing a flagon of beer, and cooking a flank cut of venison. His current home, shared with a trapper named Cadoc, is more of a run down shack or lean-to than a house, sitting off to the east, away from the more prosperous folks, providing some space for the butchering that both their jobs entail.

OOC: Edited to show that Cadoc and Fist live in the same, run down shack.
 
Last edited:

Talisman

The Man of Talis
RPGnet Member
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Cadoc, having just returned from checking his traplines, has spent the afternoon skinning a handful of muskrats, weasels and marmots, setting aside the meat for his partner Fist. He checks the skins, all prepared for proper curing and tanning, and mentally estimates how much they might go for.
 

Darkeus

...is still laughing
Validated User
As you go about your routines for the day, the panicked screams of a man sound loudly through the village. It seems to be coming from the direction of The Temple of the Holy Finger. The man seems to be screaming something about, "The priest turned into a monster!" Whatever is going on, it is definitely going to create a disturbance.

What would you like to do?
 

The Discerning Gentleman

Has Transcended
Validated User
Thalzatt sticks his head back out of the splintered doorway of the abandoned warehouse and stops chewing on a rat carcass for a moment. His pointy ears perk up, almost like a dog's, in his attempt to find out what is going on. His eyes narrow, and his nostrils flare open wide I an attempt to catch a scent from downwind. The distant scream has triggered his survival instinct...
 

bleys21

Registered User
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Fist swallows the rest of his beer, and looks over at Cadoc. "What do you think that's all about?" he asks, while grabbing his sword, leaning against the side of the hut.
 
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