The Fort

“Stone held. Fire kept. We remain.”


Nestled at the precarious crossroads between the trade routes of New Gallion and the encroaching corruption of the south, the Fort stands as a hardened monument to survival. Its walls, weathered by over a century of conflict, rise against a backdrop of darkened forests and jagged hills, a final line of defense against the shadows that still seep from the ruins of the south, now covered by what the Fort has coined 'The Blight.' Inside, the Fort is alive with motion and tension. The Guild Led by Solomon oversees the flow of resources, balancing the demands of the distant capital with the Fort’s immediate needs, while the Provincial Guard, led by the resolute Captain Dane, patrols tirelessly. He drills his soldiers, fosters discipline, and pushes for uneasy cooperation with the Sisters of the Thorn — witches whose healing tonics and protective rituals have become vital, even as mistrust lingers.

This uneasy balance is complicated by the capital’s indifference. The council demands their regular shipments of weapons and provisions are met with proof this investment is worth funding - that progress is being made. To maintain their standing, the Guild sends embellished reports and covertly smuggles the Sisters’ remedies back to New Gallion, ensuring the elite remain cared for while publicly denouncing witchcraft. Meanwhile, the Sisters warn that the sun fades sooner with each passing year, and the cold bites deeper — signs, they say, of a greater darkness stirring. As reports of southern creatures grow more frequent and horrifying, the Fort braces for with sharpened blades and whispered prayers, knowing that survival will take more than stone and steel.

Location

At the throat of the great dangers of the south, the Fort stands perched between the sprawling inland city of New Gallion and the rotting remnants of the south. Guarded by high stone walls and harsh resolve, it is both gateway and grave marker, keeping the corruption of Blackwell from spreading farther into the heartlands. Behind it, the council watches with wary detachment. Before it, the wild grows hungrier.

Foundation and Purpose

Born from the aftermath of Blackwell’s fall, the Fort was not built to conquer. It was built to survive. Arvis, one of the few survivors of the Blackwell tragedy, saw what others refused to: that the darkness festering in the south would not stay still. Together with Amelia and Brother Andrew, and with reluctant funding from the Guild, Arvis spearheaded the creation of a stronghold. It would not be a town, nor a city but a wall of flesh, steel, and will.

They chose a jagged rise near the old trade road. Forests pressed in from one side, hills broke like knuckles on the other, and the southern sky was always choked with green ash-colored clouds. Here, they built their last line.

The Triad

The Fort is not ruled by a single mind. It is kept in balance often precariously by three forces:

  • The Provincial Guard, a military arm forged from aid of the foolish or brave sent from the main city and old-world discipline.

  • The Guild, bankers and resource masters who manage coin and supply lines from New Gallion.

  • The Coven, known as the Sisters of the Thorn, who act as healers, and reminders of older gods Amelia brought with her on behalf of Stiorra's teachings.

Together, they form a fractious alliance. Power is rarely shared freely. But necessity binds them more tightly than trust.

Life Within the Walls

Inside the Fort’s walls is a tangle of order and chaos. The Provincial Guard drills on mud filled ground.  The Guild counts coins in reinforced ledgers. The Sisters of the Thorn brew quietly and securely in the House of Thorn.

Tensions run high. The Guild’s disdain for witchkind bleeds into policy, and the Coven's rituals stir unease in the more superstitious guards. Still, healing tonics and protective wards are too valuable to ignore. And when the beasts of the south come clawing, even the most stubborn soldier will clutch a Sister’s charm.

The tavern serves as a neutral ground, though not always peacefully. Mercenaries pass through, drawn by the Guild’s promises of silver for those brave enough to retrieve relics from the south. Many do not return. Those who do speak of haunted woods, shifting shadows, and rumors of horrible creatures and structures that seems to shift with the changing winds.

Cultural Makeup

The Fort is less a settlement than a pressure cooker. Every citizen inside its walls is there for a reason none of them simple.

  • The Guard trains constantly, under the command of Dane. He is young by officer standards, but sharp and pragmatic, pushing his men toward cooperation with the witches, despite the tension it causes.

  • The Guild sends young men raised in structure and greed from the capitals academies, trained to count costs down to the drop of blood. They follow orders from the Harcourt line to this day and often clash with Dane over ethics and efficiency.

  • The Coven allows only women inside its walls. The Sisters live by a code that honors both light and shadow. Their presence is whispered about, but their results are undeniable. Some say they keep the Fort alive more than any sword does.

The people here do not speak with the formal cadence of Harrowick, nor the polished tones of New Gallion. They speak plainly, often in clipped sentences. Everything said here is said with purpose. There is no time for ornament when survival is at stake.

Traditions and Tensions

The Fort has developed its own culture over the years, carved from desperation and hardened by loss.

  • Morning Fires are lit at dawn around the fort. One for the lost. One for the living. One left unlit in case.

  • Mercenary Banners hang over the tavern hearth. If a company survives long enough to earn a fifth contract, they are allowed to hang their colors.If they do manage to get them up many are burnt, bloodstained, or torn.

  • Nocturna takes place monthly, when the Sisters open their doors to celebrate life amid looming death. What began as a quiet ritual is now the closest thing to joy the Fort knows.

The council in New Gallion is kept informed by coded reports. They believe the Fort is secure, that shipments are steady, and that the shadows are kept at bay. The truth is more complicated. Resources are thin. Alliances are cracking. And the days grow darker.

The Shadow Below

To the south lies the ruin of Blackwell. No map holds its full shape anymore. Roads shift. Trees move. Whispers drift through the air like fog. Patrols speak of strange lights. Some soldiers vanish, others return changed.

Signs warn of something stirring not just beasts, but a weight in the world, deep and wrong. Those who can still track it say the sun sets earlier now. They say the cold arrives too soon.Some say the Guild’s interest in southern artifacts is no longer out of need or aid but curiosity, and greed.

Whatever waits in the dark will not stay waiting forever.

Current State

The Fort stands, but not unchanged.

  • Dane pushes for unity and defense, knowing that the Guard alone cannot hold the line.

  • The Guild eyes profit, prioritizing trade and extraction even at great risk with pressure from the capital.

  • The Coven heals the wounded, and studies the new world around them in a desperate fight to keep their home, willing to do things the guards and guild wouldn't to learn more.

No one here is innocent. No one here is unscarred. But still, the walls hold. Still, the fires burn.

And still, they remain, for now.

Common Sayings in the Fort

  • “Hold the stone” - stay your ground, no matter the cost.

  • “Three walls, one will” - unity between Guild, Guard, and Coven, often used sarcastically.

  • “The south whispers” - used when something feels wrong, even if unseen.

  • “Buy your light” - a cynical phrase about trading favors or life for survival.

  • “Burn a third” - a call to make sacrifices, usually in resource rationing or personnel.