LooseTimber
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Dec 6, 2013
Kisho'calag. The shining jewel of the Emerian Merchant Empire, it's capitol city, born up out of the wastelands like a rare desert flower. It was a diamond amid rough, the wonder in the wastes. For over 400 years the vast city had stood, withstanding storms, wars, and even defying the forces of the last great bandit king, Yaabdin Abu, whom in his lifetime, sacked and pillaged three of the ten known kingdoms. For as long as the trade flowed, the city stayed strong.
But only as long as the trade flowed.
The eastern kingdoms had begun to gaze towards the rising sun, as whispers and tales of new lands, new kingdoms, across the great divide, trickled through them. They began reaching away from their neighbors to the west, who in turn, closed their own borders, and amassed their own forces, fearful that those they had once called allies would return from their travels, with more wealth and power than they could contend with.
Gold, the precious life-blood of Kisho'calag, began to dwindle. The once great city began to decay.
Trade still continued, but it was stunted, meager. Roads, once well guarded and patrolled, now made prime places for bandits to place ambushes. Though many merchants are still forced to use the main roads, they have found another way to transport their more precious cargo.
There have always been those who have felt more at home in the wilds than in civilization. Rangers, nomadic barbarians, druids, hunters, all those who knew and could survive in the wilds were being hired, to transport that which was worth more than it's weight in gold. They were known as Wildwalkers, and they were the merchants' last, best hope. The bandits could not steal what they could not find.
But only as long as the trade flowed.
The eastern kingdoms had begun to gaze towards the rising sun, as whispers and tales of new lands, new kingdoms, across the great divide, trickled through them. They began reaching away from their neighbors to the west, who in turn, closed their own borders, and amassed their own forces, fearful that those they had once called allies would return from their travels, with more wealth and power than they could contend with.
Gold, the precious life-blood of Kisho'calag, began to dwindle. The once great city began to decay.
Trade still continued, but it was stunted, meager. Roads, once well guarded and patrolled, now made prime places for bandits to place ambushes. Though many merchants are still forced to use the main roads, they have found another way to transport their more precious cargo.
There have always been those who have felt more at home in the wilds than in civilization. Rangers, nomadic barbarians, druids, hunters, all those who knew and could survive in the wilds were being hired, to transport that which was worth more than it's weight in gold. They were known as Wildwalkers, and they were the merchants' last, best hope. The bandits could not steal what they could not find.