Background:
“Hrrrmmphh” The minotaur elder snorted, his old age irritating him as the youngers pressed their questions. “Yes, you I will tell of Crossroads, in hopes you will stay away.” With that, the edler lifted is staff towards the youngers, and began his recitation.
“Far to the west of our beautiful islands, across the circle of mountains, and into the center of the unnamed country their, lies a massive city. Crossroads. Here, centered exactly between the twelve kingdoms, this strange city stands. Why the elves allow it, we do not know, except, perhaps, it is another of their damnable experiments! And in the center of Crossroads lies the Arena, where combatants face monsters, adventurers, or any willing to fight for fame, glory, and riches. But the truth…the sad truth….is that most are slaves. Most that appear not to be slaves, are carefully owned, managed, directed, and eventually die fighting for their masters they knew not. Remember, the reach of the Elvyntaendyr extends farther than their forests that encircle all of our known lands. The endless manipulators, the crafters of society; all life a game to them.
“Hhrrrmph. Crossroads is a sprawling city, patched together over hundreds (thousands?) of years, home to every known race, and several more besides. Crossroads is believed by some not to just be the middle of our known world, but to connect to the middle of all that is! In fact, it is not uncommon to see the occasional Tiefling, Archon, or Salamander fighting in the Arena. For glory, or captured? Who knows.
“All who are banished from the twelve kingdoms ends up in Crossroads at one point or another. While some may settle in some of the towns and farms elsewhere in the vast country, the only major city is Crossroads. There, order is maintained by whoever is in power at the time. While countless powers have risen and fallen, life within Crossroads itself is no more or less dangerous than any other major city if one pays attention. Currently, the mysterious Black Guard maintains order, and no one knows who their master is. But, as with most folk, as long as order is maintained, and the populace is not starving, then the rulers matter little.
To the Northwest, several adventuring groups have discovered The Pit. It is an opening that leads to a large interconnected ecosystem deep under the earth, where terrifying monsters and incalculable riches lay, or so some are told. It is also rumored that a powerful necromancer has turned himself into a lich and plans on sending his horde of undead from the Pit, through the sewers and into Crossroads. For what ends, who knows.
To the Southwest lay the mushroom mines, owned and controlled by the Goblin Workman’s Society. From the mines come many local foods, drinks, herbs, and magical spell components. These are exported to cities throughout the twelve kingdoms, and some say beyond.”
The elder then sat and stared, as the youngers, realizing time approached to end their lessons, a lone tear rolling down his aged, strong face. He knew the time was fast approaching that these peaceful days would end. Rumors of war throughout the kingdoms spread fast. The why’s and the wherefore’s mattered not to the elder, he had seen this countless times in his long life, the weight never easier; the curse never lighter.
“Hrrrmmphh” The minotaur elder snorted, his old age irritating him as the youngers pressed their questions. “Yes, you I will tell of Crossroads, in hopes you will stay away.” With that, the edler lifted is staff towards the youngers, and began his recitation.
“Far to the west of our beautiful islands, across the circle of mountains, and into the center of the unnamed country their, lies a massive city. Crossroads. Here, centered exactly between the twelve kingdoms, this strange city stands. Why the elves allow it, we do not know, except, perhaps, it is another of their damnable experiments! And in the center of Crossroads lies the Arena, where combatants face monsters, adventurers, or any willing to fight for fame, glory, and riches. But the truth…the sad truth….is that most are slaves. Most that appear not to be slaves, are carefully owned, managed, directed, and eventually die fighting for their masters they knew not. Remember, the reach of the Elvyntaendyr extends farther than their forests that encircle all of our known lands. The endless manipulators, the crafters of society; all life a game to them.
“Hhrrrmph. Crossroads is a sprawling city, patched together over hundreds (thousands?) of years, home to every known race, and several more besides. Crossroads is believed by some not to just be the middle of our known world, but to connect to the middle of all that is! In fact, it is not uncommon to see the occasional Tiefling, Archon, or Salamander fighting in the Arena. For glory, or captured? Who knows.
“All who are banished from the twelve kingdoms ends up in Crossroads at one point or another. While some may settle in some of the towns and farms elsewhere in the vast country, the only major city is Crossroads. There, order is maintained by whoever is in power at the time. While countless powers have risen and fallen, life within Crossroads itself is no more or less dangerous than any other major city if one pays attention. Currently, the mysterious Black Guard maintains order, and no one knows who their master is. But, as with most folk, as long as order is maintained, and the populace is not starving, then the rulers matter little.
To the Northwest, several adventuring groups have discovered The Pit. It is an opening that leads to a large interconnected ecosystem deep under the earth, where terrifying monsters and incalculable riches lay, or so some are told. It is also rumored that a powerful necromancer has turned himself into a lich and plans on sending his horde of undead from the Pit, through the sewers and into Crossroads. For what ends, who knows.
To the Southwest lay the mushroom mines, owned and controlled by the Goblin Workman’s Society. From the mines come many local foods, drinks, herbs, and magical spell components. These are exported to cities throughout the twelve kingdoms, and some say beyond.”
The elder then sat and stared, as the youngers, realizing time approached to end their lessons, a lone tear rolling down his aged, strong face. He knew the time was fast approaching that these peaceful days would end. Rumors of war throughout the kingdoms spread fast. The why’s and the wherefore’s mattered not to the elder, he had seen this countless times in his long life, the weight never easier; the curse never lighter.
