Marshal of Somerstôn

It had been paved, once. You could still see the slabs here and there, though many had been taken to build the hovels of the nearby hamlets and outposts. More had simply been swallowed up by the grass. The wet sod buried them, but if you dug any distance, you'd find them. He was sure of it.

Like memories, he thought. The rain blew in.

You could see a long way from up here, once you'd scrambled up the slope. A holy landscape. A ritual landscape. The great Valley of the Sun stretched off into the distance; but it was hidden from view by this ridge. Hidden until the very top, when it struck you all at once, and drew a gasp. A beautiful jewel of a valley, gateway to the desert to the north, Stonehold to the south, and the first step into the Great Plain further west. 

You had to have imagination to picture it in its glory. A thousand celebrants coming from all around, and following this same path – paved then, stone-bright in the midsummer sun. They would be driving beasts, carrying ale and summerwine for the feast, laughing and joyful. 

Picture it. You round the corner and – all at once – you take a step and find the sun. A huge, natural arena from horizon to horizon, with jewel-bright grass cropped by the ovistriders, and warm. Here you would sit, and feast, and celebrate 'til the sun had sunk, its duty done for the year; the harvest safe and full and gathered. This was a time for old friends; news from the heart of the realm; gladness and comfort.

Not... not like this. Not with the grey, sheeting rain. Not with just four of you for the observance. Something had changed. The empire? The sun? 

All at once, the Marshal turned away from the valley. The movement sent cold water dripping from his helm and cloak.

Straightening, the dwarf by his side sniffed ruefully, rubbing his nose with a gloved knuckle. Helped by the elf, the old man moved to pull his cloak more tightly round his thin shoulders as they turned to go. It had been observed. The ritual, unbroken these thousand years – or so Aenur claimed – had been observed. 

All four were armed. The borders were no longer safe. 

The old world was gone. Part of him knew it. No tax-collectors had seemed a blessing – for a year or two at least. Families laughed; put a little away just in case. Then the raids had started. Help was slow in coming that first year; fewer still the next. In the third year, the beacons drew no help at all, and that was a dire time.

His father had a duty. Somerstôn's walls were strengthened – in the absence of good quarried stone from Three Bridges, his father had ordered the paving be torn up. What else could be done?

The little burh became an island; a border outpost. The beacons sometimes drew help; but more often mercenaries – as likely to become an enemy as to protect against them. Sometimes the beacon drew... other things. Warbands. Beasts. 

Now was a time of monsters. The old, familiar world was gone, its rituals and certainties with it. The new one was struggling to be born.

The roads had gone. But there were still swords.

Landmarks of Three Bridges: Summer Bridge

 Sitting as it does over three branches of the River Tarr, the town of Three Bridges is divided into thirds. The northeastern third, now referred to as the Whispering District, or more commonly Ghasthame, was ruined in the Ghoul War and remains uninhabited. Connecting the still-occupied northwestern third to Ghasthame is the Summer Bridge, oldest and most storied of the town's bridges.

Whereas the town's other bridges were designed entirely to be functional, Summer Bridge is a marvel of Sinian engineering from the old empire's golden years. Easily fifty feet wide it crosses a point at which the riverway opens into a hollow in the ground which spans some hundreds of feet. Designed to be more than a mere road, the bridge is lined with buildings on both sides - dwellings and commercial - and ornately decorated. It was to all intents and purposes its own district of the town, whose residents were moderately wealthy folk such as successful merchants, famous entertainers and high-calibre tradesmen. In its glory days the bridge sported elaborate hanging gardens on either side of the street and grand planters which hung over the sides of the bridge. On summer evenings the bridge was closed to wheeled traffic and became a social gathering point, hence the name. The couple of taverns which sat on the bridge were allowed to open up into the street and residents of the town could enjoy long, warm nights under the gentle stars and the fragrance of jasmine and honeysuckle.

Were times less grim, the townsfolk would no doubt take pains to explain that despite its name the bridge was not just a place of merriment in summer. Winter saw the hanging gardens replaced with hundreds of lanterns - thanks to the combined skill of the local Metallurgists Guild members and the perfumiers of nearby Ghantorstin, these burned with a myriad of colours and delightful scents.

Regrettably, those days have passed and the bridge and its buildings now sit abandoned. During the Ghoul War, the town was evacuated for a short period before being reclaimed but in order to secure the surviving parts of the town against further incursion the bridge had to be sealed off at either end and a quarantine zone enforced on the inhabited side of the river. As a result of damage sustained during the war the bridge has begun its slide into dilapidation with buildings starting to collapse and the gardens at one and the same time being overgrown and withered.

While it was long known that Summer Bridge was the oldest part of the town, the original reasons for the bridge's construction were a mystery. Recently, however, the famed playboy scholar and treasure-seeker Zarathustra d'Jons discovered, whilst researching for a prospective venture, a forgotten Sinian scroll which described the bridge's origins. Presenting his discovery to the prestigious and influential Knowledgeable and Inquisitive Society of the Encyclopaedic Freethinksmen, he wrote:

 "It would appear that the curiosity known locally as 'Summer Bridge' was built on the ruins of a far older dwarfish structure. While the scroll's author remains maddeningly ambiguous about a great many details, it seems that the dwarfs discovered a route to the Underland beneath the river which led to a great seam of gems, through which ran strands of a unique metal, light, strong and possessed of an unearthly emerald glow. With the mind-boggling ingenuity which only ever strikes a dwarf when there are riches just out of reach, they temporarily drained the river (via a cunning yet colossal mechanical device which I am led to believe still sits in the hills upriver of the town, although by now calcified into the very rock itself) and constructed a watertight tower over the entrance so that when the river was returned to its natural course the seam would still be accessible.

However - and the scroll's author is ignorant of the finer details here - it was not only surface dwarfs who were drawn to the strange metal and some terrible calamity befell the luckless miners, causing them to seal up the tower and abandon the area. Some time later, with the tower little more than an eroded stalagmite, human settlers decided to use its remains as the foundation for an overwater settlement - a decision which has proven to be wise since the town is reputed to have become a minor jewel in the Sinian crown, at least until the tragic events of the war."

News of d'Jons' discovery has reached the town and generated more than a little interest. The fact that someone of fame and repute has taken an interest in their town has caused an upswell in civic pride and, regardless of the fact that there are no records of him having ever visited Three Bridges, has caused d'Jons to become something of a cult hero. Tales of his swashbuckling and romantic exploits are currently very popular, although the claim that his motto is Vidi, Vici, Veni is probably just a local urban legend.

Recently a group calling themselves The First Bridge Privateers has presented to Meister v'Embersburg an ambitious plan to reclaim and reopen the bridge. 

Locations of the Tallowlands: Three Bridges

Formerly a southern town in the Sinian Empire, Three Bridges is now one of the northernmost settlements within the Tolerance of Crows. Its strategically useful position on a junction in the river Tarr meant that it has always been a significant trading post; with the coming of the Ghoul War it became a key bastion of resistance, and in the years subsequent it has begun to have use as a stable entry point to the Charred Lands for adventurers and treasure-seekers. While historically a human settlement, in common with all places of commerce the people of Three Bridges are used to seeing, and tolerant of, many other races.

Three Bridges has for the most part had a peaceful existence. Prior to the Ghoul War its only significant time of strife was a brief period of apostasy precipitated by Hanvard the Confectioner releasing the Everlasting Godstoppers from his gingerbread laboratory. All known copies of the recipe are believed to have been destroyed in the subsequent purge.

During the Ghoul War, Three Bridges was briefly overrun and abandoned before being reclaimed by an allied force of humans from the surrounding regions and dwarfs from further west. Thanks to the foresight of the then-Meister Turnagain Harrowfoot, the town's population had been evacuated to safety and many of the original inhabitants were able to return and repopulate the town.

The town sits across all three branches of the river - hence the name Three Bridges - and as a consequence connects the lands on all sides of the river. The northeastern third of the town was sacked during the war and remains mostly ruined, while the northwestern and southern thirds are effectively fully habitable. 

One outcome of the Ghoul War was that the Sinian Empire's southmost provinces - which today border the Tolerance - became either assimilated into existing foreign kingdoms or were claimed by refugees and petty warlords as independent realms. The lands of three such factions reach as far as Three Bridges, namely House Makazor, the Orderly Brotherhood of the Reclamation, and the Unbegotten Conclave. Were times more secure it is certain that lordship over Three Bridges would be the subject of extensive and probably violent dispute between these three factions. However, the precariousness of the entire region has forced all three into a compromise accord, whereby commitments have been given from all parties to not attack the town, which is left to operate independently. The Meister of the town is expected to provide a militia for the town's security - incursions by horrors from the north are a regular feature of life so close to the Charred Lands - and is bound by strict agreements to show no favour to any one of the town's neighbours. Truly equal treatment is in reality an impossible task and while it is unlikely that any of the bordering regions will overtly attempt to take over the town, there is a constant shadow war for influence. The current Meister is Reijard v'Embersburg.

The town is located near a major entrance to the Underland. Sitting high up in the Eagle's Claw Mountains (which become the Greyspire Mountains in the east), this entry point used to be controlled by goblin tribes. However, the Ghoul War devastated underlands and overlands alike and the goblins were driven out of the area. In recent times, along with wandering terrors, Skaven have started to infiltrate the locality and have found their way south to the town. The local branch of the Ratcatcher's Guild, as always closely aligned with the town's sewer engineers and a small group of dwarf miners who have remained in the town as part of a treaty, has to date been very successful in preventing the Skaven from being any more than a nuisance. It is, though, a matter of growing concern that Skaven activity appears to be increasing. Latterly, the underground workers have reported hearing strange sounds from deep below the sewers, though rumours that goblins - vastly preferable to the Skaven - have returned to the area are as yet unsubstantiated.

Closer still to the town is the Bleakwood, a dense forest which has always been a source of local fear and legend. In the days of the Sinian Empire it was merely a geographical bogeyman, mostly left alone by the townspeople and used as a source of tales to encourage small children to behave. Since the Ghoul War, adventurers who have escaped alive from the Charred Lands as well as townspeople who have had reason to travel within sight of the forest have brought back stories of disturbing creatures seen moving within the trees. It has not gone unnoticed that the forest was not killed off by the dark forces which powered the war and this fact has discouraged many from venturing near the place.

Another nearby place of note is Steepacre, which has for many years been something of a competitor to Three Bridges as it sits on the only truly reliable pass through the Eagle's Claw Mountains. Whilst its location high in the mountains undoubtedly saved Steepacre from the worst of the war's ravages, it seems that the surrounding desolation has hurt the town even more than it did Three Bridges.

Next to Steepacre is Hollow Mountain, home to the Ghoul King. There has been some confusion over whether the Ghoul King was responsible for the Ghoul War, but most reputable scholars agree that he had no involvement and was just as threatened by the tide of destruction has anyone else. However, bizarre and unnatural occurrences have been noted around Hollow Mountain of late, and one must inevitably conclude that the King has once again risen. His motivations are currently unknown. 

North of the Eagle's Claw Mountains lie the ruins of Borhalphiston, formerly a regional capital within the Sinian Empire. Known for its vast library and its graveyard district (the Valley of Inverse Pyramids), it is a magnet for adventurers although virtually none who venture there have ever returned.

Just beyond the Bleakwood, on a plateau in the mountains, sits Castell Davarill. Its origins are now unknown, as is the reason for it having been built in such a fiendishly inaccessible location - there is no indication of any adjacent settlement ever having been present - but stories remain of it possessing an enchanted rose garden of unearthly beauty. The castle was abandoned for many centuries, but it is known that at an unspecified point a secretive community of elves has taken up residency there. Their nature and purposes can only be guessed at. The fact that the castle itself is certainly not of elvish origin while elves as a rule do not care for other races' dwellings only adds to the mystery.

A number of notable groups or individuals have passed the town's orbit within living memory. These include:

- King Ormisruin and his knights from the fallen nation of Hilgoth passed the town in their search for a new home. Having made camp in fields to the town's south, the sad sight of the worn and faded banners moved many townsfolk to donate food and other supplies to the king's followers before they departed. The townspeoples' unexpected kindness is unlikely to have been forgotten by the sons of Ormisruin.

- Nathaniel Hultz has been sighted multiple times. It is believed that his plans to establish a colony within the Charred Lands may have come to fruition, although murmurs have begun to emerge that he has returned to the area seeking to recover an artefact which he was previously forced to abandon. 

- Father Torpal is known to be active in the area seeking converts to the worship of Rorralarach.