Myrken Wood: A Splendid Isolation.

Myrken Wood: A Splendid Isolation.

Postby Carnath-Emory » Thu Jan 29, 2004 1:23 pm

The most significant changes are never announced. There are gatherings called over such grand matters as war; criers are set loose upon the town when there are written new taxes; even a man's death prompts a funeral. But the truly momentous happenings? Well...



All things considered, Myrken Wood has done well in its handling of the most recent disasters. In the aftermath of floods and Baie and the threats of war, the townsfolk had exhaled in collective relief -- but not too much of it; oh, a canny folk, are these, and not too trusting of fate. They had relaxed...a little. They'd also rebuilt what had been damaged, and fortified the rest; had put real work into organising their ragtag militia, during which time the Order of Straka, too, had seen its ranks swell with new recruits -- a much-needed excess of bodies, after the recent disasters. In all, the townsfolk had, for the most part, proven battered but not beaten, which fact likely amazed even themselves.

It was as well that they'd shown this new determination to defend their own, given what was to plague the town next -- and ironic, too; after all, it was their own that marched upon the town, their own rotting ancestors, climbing from river and grave and even the Silver Lake itself. In some unlucky houses, they'd tried to push their way up through the cellars, skeletal fingers proving unsuited to the task; long-dead, those ones, from the years before Myrken had enjoyed the luxury of an established burial place. They had come en masse, and although the greater part of their number was directed at the more distant Broken Dagger, still the town had faced a threat of some enormity.

Were it not for the fine minds at the head of the Order of Straka, and the forces that had come to strengthen their numbers, things might have gone poorly indeed. For some time still to come, Myrken Wood will sing the praises of Thessilane, the Grey Lancers, and The General -- Eriks, to some few of them -- whose warhorse had trampled thunder from the very earth, when he drew the Myrken Militia beneath his command. They and the townsfolk had held off the worst of it, once they'd become organised into a cohesive whole; there'd been some loss of life, some destruction of property, but it was not nearly the disaster that might have been.

Why, even the great beast Zayken -- and few know that name -- had been quelled, it's said, or at least made to flee. The details of that banishing are hazy at best, when spoken of within the town, but that it was huge, all knew, and that it had roared the name of one of Lady Darkblayde's past employees. Ironically, it was this that would prove to be to be one of the town's greatest downfalls.


Property can be rebuilt, and already they're hard at work on just that, despite sleet and freezing snow. Bodies can be cremated -- not, ever again, buried -- and this, too, has been done. Reputation, however, is a far more subtle harm, and the town of Myrken Wood -- no, the entire area -- has suffered a mighty blow to just that, one of many during this last year. There is active trade between the various regions of Amasynia, livestock, produce and goods moved continually back and forth across borders. Myrken moves lumber and foodstuffs, imports cattle from Thessilane, finely-worked metals from Derry, poultry from New Dauntless -- or had. The rumours had begun a year and more before, had heightened throughout the time of the Fivefold Blight of flood and Baie, and have reached a peak now, for talk of undead armies and forty-foot monstrosities travel between merchants, travel faster upon carivans. Trade has not yet stopped, not entirely; still, the more affluent merchants have found other places to buy their goods, certain regions have advised their exporters to avoid Myrken entirely, and those located within the township itself have begun to pack away their goods in readiness to move....elsewhere. Anywhere.



It has been a long, kindless winter, the harder for the small famine experienced throughout the warmer seasons -- fifteen thousand extra bodies and a merciless sun had taken a heavy toll upon the Spring's crops. But what comes now is visible only upon the outskirts, the borders of the town...for about Myrken Wood, the roads are almost empty, save for those who choose to leave. It's not spoken aloud that Myrken Wood is cursed. Then again, it's not mentioned that the snow is cold, either. Some things are simply understood.
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Carnath-Emory
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