Jean Otus
Would-Be Prince
The lands of Autumnhold lay distant from the thronged streets of the capital, far from the grand markets of the coastal cities, removed from the verdant plains of the heartland. There, nestled amongst ancient sloping mountains, the lands of the Autumnhold lay draped in a seemingly permanent season of golden harvest. In spite of this, change does come to the climate. The growing seasons are short, the winters harsh, and the heat of summer rarely if ever brings a bead of sweat to the brows of even the hardiest workers. Despite this strangeness, many people from across the Kingdom of Marianum come there to settle. Some claim to be seeking their fortune in lumbering the great forests, others seeking a sense of rugged independence in the unforgiving land, and yet more seeking the isolating embrace of the mountains. Outcasts, rebels, witches and zealots all call the place home.
In the foothills of the mountains, the first settlers set down the towns of Purvale, Vesting, and Eastwell. There, amongst clearings the founding families felled trees and plowed up fields, establishing farms which would slowly grow into burgeoning estates. Deeper into the rugged terrain, a motley trail of villages and hamlets stretched out, seeking to find purchase or fertile fields. There, newer, poorer settlers attempted to find their way amongst the primordial environs. Even as novel technologies gave these people the ability to fight back against the land they wished to inhabit, they would face constant resistance.
Unlike the long-settled lands of the coast, or the distant rolling plains of the capital, Autumnhold is home to many things which threaten the lives of common folk. Wolves stalk the shady underbrush in great packs alongside bears and mountain lions, jockeying for the game animals which serve to feed many families. Beyond the mundane threats of feral beasts, the forests and mountains bare their own more supernatural threats. Innocent folk lured to the siren song of the wilderness turn them to witchcraft or the curse of lycanthropy. Spirits of all manner stalk the night, and rumors flick from each tongue of plague-bringing vampires. To many, it seems as though all of the great devils of the world come out to play in those woods.
Bereft of any great lord to rule over the land, Autumnhold only sees governance by the council of its mayors and aldermen. In their wisdom, they created the Autumnhold Militia. Offering pay to any volunteer willing to don the copper coat, the Militia is a ragtag order of all stripes. Archaic warriors shouldering pikes and bows stand alongside mercenaries bearing the modern flintlock firearms and even the odd staff-wielding mage. Together, their odd ranks take responsibility for fending off the monsters and mysticism of the forest in defense of the people.
Days are growing shorter, the shadows of the mountains deepening, the call for new recruits has come. Can you answer the call?
In the foothills of the mountains, the first settlers set down the towns of Purvale, Vesting, and Eastwell. There, amongst clearings the founding families felled trees and plowed up fields, establishing farms which would slowly grow into burgeoning estates. Deeper into the rugged terrain, a motley trail of villages and hamlets stretched out, seeking to find purchase or fertile fields. There, newer, poorer settlers attempted to find their way amongst the primordial environs. Even as novel technologies gave these people the ability to fight back against the land they wished to inhabit, they would face constant resistance.
Unlike the long-settled lands of the coast, or the distant rolling plains of the capital, Autumnhold is home to many things which threaten the lives of common folk. Wolves stalk the shady underbrush in great packs alongside bears and mountain lions, jockeying for the game animals which serve to feed many families. Beyond the mundane threats of feral beasts, the forests and mountains bare their own more supernatural threats. Innocent folk lured to the siren song of the wilderness turn them to witchcraft or the curse of lycanthropy. Spirits of all manner stalk the night, and rumors flick from each tongue of plague-bringing vampires. To many, it seems as though all of the great devils of the world come out to play in those woods.
Bereft of any great lord to rule over the land, Autumnhold only sees governance by the council of its mayors and aldermen. In their wisdom, they created the Autumnhold Militia. Offering pay to any volunteer willing to don the copper coat, the Militia is a ragtag order of all stripes. Archaic warriors shouldering pikes and bows stand alongside mercenaries bearing the modern flintlock firearms and even the odd staff-wielding mage. Together, their odd ranks take responsibility for fending off the monsters and mysticism of the forest in defense of the people.
Days are growing shorter, the shadows of the mountains deepening, the call for new recruits has come. Can you answer the call?