Last Hearth

Population: 1500 Locals, + 2000 Imperial Army soldiers

Last Hearth is so named because it is the last bastion of civilisation before the long expanse of deserted moor and marshland that makes up the Black Fell. This was not always the case, of course. Before the Invasion of 286 NE, the region, known then as the Glens, was a fertile mix of forests and farmland, interspersed with rocky outcroppings suitable for quarrying stone. The town itself was known as Hearthglow, for its warm and welcoming demeanour.

All that changed during the wizard Trygon’s invasion at the head of an undead horde. Attacking from the west, the Glens were the first place his army attacked, and they were effectively overwhelmed before even the first token defence could be mounted. Caring little for the natural resources of the Glens, with the heart of the empire as his goal, Trygon pushed on into Voronia, leaving nothing but desolation in his wake.

Eventually, he was defeated, and his army dismantled, but the damage had been done. The region had been decimated, with only a few pockets of resistance remaining and the majority of towns and farms destroyed or abandoned. Moreover, the influx of dark magic in the area permanently blighted the land – previously fertile crop fields withered and died, whole sections of land ruptured and sank below the water table to leave nothing but a trackless bog, and necromantic energy suffused the very ground so that the dead would no longer rest easily in their graves, but would periodically rise unbidden to wander aimlessly and prey upon travellers.

It took a long time for the colonisation effort to restart, but eventually it did, and the town was resettled. It would never regain the same ambience, however, and soon, despite the best efforts of the local government, the name of the place was changed, both to commemorate the lives lost there and to better reflect its new demeanour.

Little by little, life and trade returned to the area, and settlers began to return to the region. However, this had its own attendant problems. In a dark reversal of its previous role, Last Hearth now served as a beacon for all the raised dead for dozens of miles around. Unable to repel the frequent, if disordered, raids by mindless zombies, skeletons and ghouls, the mayor of Last Hearth begged the authorities of White Haven for help, and they answered. Thus the town doubled in size overnight, as an Imperial army outpost was erected less than a mile out of town, and a wooden palisade was begun that encircled the town.

Of course, now there were other problems. The army could deal with the undead incursions, even leading patrols out to neuter herds before they could reach critical mass. But now the town was stretched to its limit providing for thousands of troops that were otherwise not fending for themselves. Blacksmiths that previously traded with Voronian and Geltish towns were forced to sharpen swords and mend armour at rock-bottom prices. And craftsmen that could not directly help the army could find no trade at all, and were forced to change trade or leave. Locals likewise began to complain about the decrease of the finer arts, and the increase in brothels and gambling dens. Suffice to say, it has been a mixed blessing.

Unusually for a town of this size, thanks to the nearby quarries, most of the buildings are made of stone, with slate roofs. There are three taverns: The Duke’s Arms, The Bear and The Headless Huntsman.

Commander Gereon MacLir
Born to a Voronian mother and Black Fell father, he was a humble infantryman during the invasion. Now a hard, no-nonsense man, tempered by war and hardened by suffering, he persecutes his task with grim determination. He accepts and respects no authority outside of the military chain of command, and is respected in return. Still, he is fair and conscientious in carrying out his duty, and comes down hard on those who bring dishonour to any regiment under his command.

Though older, he is a capable fighter. He carries a large axe and a pistol, and wears a fine suit of armour.

Mayor Simeon Tollett
A small man with big ambitions. Originally a merchant trader, he accumulated enough wealth to begin a programme of improvements to the town, and in doing so eventually curried enough favour with the townsfolk to be elected mayor. It was he who originally petitioned the Imperial Army to send troops, a decision he has since regretted. He sees the army’s presence as more of a nuisance than a relief, and while he acknowledges that the town is safer, the additional stresses are driving him to his wits end, and he butts heads with the commander frequently. He is cunning and opportunistic, liable to bite off more than he can chew but able to think and talk his way out of any problems he might create for himself.

Tem Carrick
Barman and owner of The Duke’s Arms, favourite inn for the locals. A large man, with an enormous beard. Prone to loud and raucous outbursts of laughter and song. Will always speak his mind about any subject. Not prone to subtlety or tact. Allows gambling, but disapproves of prostitution.

Cob
Owner of the Bear. Dwarf, with extravagant whiskers. A cunning businessman, he encourages the soldiers to drink at his establishment with prostitutes, gambling and cut price booze. Naturally, this puts him at odds with the commander.

Rynna
Owner of the Headless Huntsman, inherited from her grandfather. The smallest and least frequented of the bars in town, it nevertheless has the classiest atmosphere.

Penelope Rose
Madam of the local brothel, the Rose. Halfling, well-dressed, with pretentions of high class.

Father Gray
Priest of Unity. Veteran of the undead invasion. Severe looking, and thoroughly devoted to his purpose, but not entirely devoid of humour, he has adapted to the town’s new situation well.

Benji Mccaskill
Orphan Farmer