Room Images

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Traitor's Field

Seen from above on those light house rocks, the sky above is wide open, seeming to to be endless if it weren't for the golden contrast of the ground below and the rushing waters of the Blackwater River vanishing over the cliffs to meet the ocean. Soft, tall grasses sway softly in the breeze, mottled with wild flowers of various hues that dot the landscape where they offer their own brilliant colors to this otherwise pale and quiet place. A single cluster of weathered trees reside here, offering what shade and shelter it can through the passing winds of the nearby sea.

A long shadow cuts into the tall grasses, where the earth lies bare to the sky above. Turns of trader wagons settling down in this secluded place have left it's mark, and without signs of regrowth, it's proven to be put to use soon enough. The ground is hard and flattened out, even stones piled in a circle shows many nights of scorch marks that survived the rains that pass through unannounced.


Towering high off of the cliffs is the ancient remains of an old lighthouse set up here many turns ago and left to the bitter hand of nature. There is only small remnants of color left, a faint wash of white and flecks of blue have yet to be eroded by the storms of times past. Moss and vines climb up the side of the building, clinging to the missing bits and pieces of foundation that crumbled away and fallen into obscurity. The windows are somehow intact, offering no view into the dark inside, sending a chill to the observer should they manage to catch a moving shadow or even a flicker of light from within.


From a distance, this place is nothing more than a foggy haze somewhere out in the horizon, discouraging ships unable to tell the difference from marine layer and storm. Even the sound of crashing waves conceals the angry roar of the falls as dark waters plummet from over head, churning the sands in the emerald sea below. The downpour is wide, a cold and heavy freshwater curtain concealing the land from which it rushes across and the dense mist concealing all that resides down below. Large rocks rise, barely able to be seen if one should get too close, threatening foot, hand and ship to it's wrath strewn by nature itself.

The only thing offering a sign of life in this gray and hazy place is the vibrant shades of emerald and moss, small trees and flora clinging with a stubborn voracity to the rocks while offering a steady place to grip for the brave that wish to climb it. In the early morning's light, the very midst from these wide falls gives the illusion of invisibility, save for the towering heights of the light house high upon the rocks that warn foreign ships that here is not a safe route to go. At the base of the falls, a rough and rocky path goes wide around the pool, allowing folk to move about the camp, concealed and unseen.

Secluded Beach

Nestled comfortably in an alcove, around a downslope path, a small beach is left secluded from many wandering eyes. High formations of rock emerge from the ocean, blocking the worst of the raging waves that come on the worst of nights and days. The sands are soft, billowing in small dunes all the way up to the cliff wall and into the old bubbles of volcanic rock that house the nests of many sea avians and those finding shelter from Rukbat's rays.

The sounds of the waterfall from the cliff can't be heard, shielded by the towers of stone and overwhelmed by the sound of the telltale clang of ship bells in the distance or the waves at high tide. At low tide, the small pools within stone are teaming with life. Small fish and crustaceans skitter about, feeding on algae and other little bits that are trapped in the tidepools with them. Brilliant colors and patterns adorn their tiny forms, offering pleasing hues to the observer that manages to peer down and not fall in.


Jutting out from the edges of stone that line the walk around the cove are long boards of various sizes, assembled in haste and worn smooth from the many feet that traveled across it over the turns. Each board bares a different color and texture, a variety of wood taken from crates, ships and likely items once used for other purposes. Under the fading coating that once protected the docks from the elements are the remains of historic emblems and logos from creatures and previous owners burned into the wood.

The ancient frame is molded with growth but the residents don't seem to mind, letting the green cushion them as they fish off of the edges in hopes of a decent meal without straying too far from the safety of the cove. Glass jugs hang from metal poles, each a different shape from different heights, emanating a variety of colored lights with the help of the glows held within. The poles run a small dragonlength apart, giving just enough illumination to know where the edges of the wood lie, preventing those heavy in drink from unknowingly going off the edge.

The wooden boardwalk extends from the edges of stone within the cove, stretching outward into the sea with broken boards reaching out to the horizon, like fingers grasping what's left of the day's light as if it will never return.


The arena isn't anything elaborate: a wide and circular patch of beach marked with large dark stones resting on the white sands. Sturdy sun-bleached wooden stands are off to one side for the curious and energetic to watch and cheer for their favorite fighters as they take part in one of the finest past-times the camp has to offer. Stretchers rest along the wooden fence beside the stands with a small box containing first aide items should things take a turn for the worse, and they usually do. Tall torches are spread out around this place, adding extra illumination to the brawlers down below, letting every wound and bruise be seen by the masses. A single wooden casket resides under the stands, covered in dried kelp and webs from turns of waiting til the day it will be put to use, reminding those that enter the pit shouldn't do so with a weak heart.


As soon as tired feet enter this place, they are greeted by a wall of steam that emanates from the very bodies of water that naturally pool here. The waters emerge from within the stone , sending spouts of heated streams into the large pool below like a miniature roaring waterfall. From this rather large pool, the water overflows, spilling into scattered smaller pools for those who wish to lounge in the relative comfort of their own company rather than with the overly friendly masses.

Tucked along the walls is a small wooden fence, concealing long benches for those that only wish to bask in the steam and heat to de-stress and unwind. On the neatly constructed fence, hooks are arranged in a long row to hold towels or robes for it's patrons. Shelves that also serve as a bench is lower on the wall, offering a holding place for additional clothing that may be shed here. The only man made adornment in this room are the small simple lanterns that sit within niches in the natural walls, giving just enough light for people to navigate within the springs at night without running into one another.

Shanty Row

This dock is nothing near as imposing than the Pier being far smaller, at the very least, it's rather humble. Lined upon this little boardwalk is a row of shanty homes made from any available wood or crates gathered from a hard day's work. Most are simple and modest little homes, white washed to at least have some civilized class to them, making them more appealing to the eye. There is one or two, though, that could use a little more skill in their creation, yet they still offer some level of comfort to the occupants inside.


This is the only shack in the camp that could compete in a 'cleanest room' contest. It may be meager in size compared to many infirmaries, but the space in this tall, square-ish building is used efficiently. Four beds covered in fresh, light grey sheets, line each of the two widest walls, flanked on one side by small, wooden tables. Extra cots, frequently used to accommodate additional patients, are stacked up underneath a smooth wooden counter on a narrower wall. A large, metal sink has been submerged into either end of the counter. Two small desks face each other near the entrance, a place for the healers to manage their notes and other paperwork. On the remaining wall, three wooden closets that reach to the ceiling are filled with medical supplies, a ladder to one side provides access to the higher shelves. To the right of the closets, an ample hearth contains three large cauldrons, where bed linens and medical instruments are sterilized, and various concoctions are mixed.


Likely one of the only buildings down below built with heavy stone, volcanic rock and mortar to keep its inhabitants inside. This building contains no windows save for the one at the door, allowing those working inside to peer at those wanting to come in. Inside of this dark place, lanterns hang on either side of the room, offering illumination enough to move through this place when that door is shut. A heavy mahogany desk resides off to one side of this room, likely 'acquired' from one of many trading vessels that come and hail to the shores. Across, is a long sun-bleached bench of wood looking as though it will collapse if the night gets too busy. Manacles hang just behind, in case they're needed. The cells line the walls, the front of each one a gate of heavy beaten iron, the only luxury within this building. Each cell isn't given much in the way of light, a single lantern hanging across the room, illuminating nothing more than the rich hue of the heavy old red door.

Trading Area

The smell of the sea can be both lovely and revolting - but the smell of sailors and other men who have not washed as much as they should is always the latter and often emanating from within this cove-like area. Cove like because of the shape and nothing more. Though coves are often slightly encased by rocks, this is almost more like a lake in a cave. A small lake, yes - likely large enough to hold and conceal three docked ships, though it is likely that only one could fit through the only entrance connecting this "lake" to the bitter seas.

Within the shadows, this place is bustling during the day with people trying to sell their wares and services of different varieties. Truely, if there ever were a black market on Pern, this would be it. Things that would get people arrested for selling anything they hold are openly bartered here in small booths or carts, makeshift shops or even from the coats and bags of those who merely stand on their feet and call out to gain the attention of any wandering eyes caught glancing in their direction. Of course, there's even the token suspicious guy that sells something in his pocket, but no one knows what it is, without the right asking price.

Jolly's Brothel

Despite the weathered stone, the outside of this brothel takes on the appearance of what used to be a respectable establishment. Long windows of textured glass housed in ornate white marble frames adorn the outside of this place. Each emits a faint light, the glow darkened by curtains of emerald that hang within, revealing no secrets this place holds save for the cerulean bottles of various shapes that rest just on the other side of the window sill, offering their own flicker from the glows they hold. The door to this place, on the other hand, takes away from the professional appearance, being nothing more than a quick throw together of mismatched boards, just like the docks outside. Whether this was intentional or thrown together due to the damage caused by an unruly customer is unknown, new guests only care about what's just on the other side.

Upon entering through that door, the small scale on the outside was only an illusion, giving way to the large circular foyer where business is arranged behind a finely carved mahogany desk. Wary eyes are greeted with walls washed of bright crimson and blended down til they reach the floor where the walls end in the brightest gold like the brilliant sunset after the end of a bitter storm. Smoky gray lace covers the main hallway just behind that imposing desk, offering a level of secrecy to the 'storm before the calm.' Offering a final touch to this fine establishment and a little bit of flavor is a small bar set up off to the right side and a small band on the left, playing cheerful music and songs about the motions of the sea and other lascivious ballads, easing up the nerves and bringing a smile to the patron's faces before those behind the curtains do.

The Hanged Man's Pub

Despite being in one of those shady places, the pub has a humble feel within. An assortment of tables of various sizes are scattered throughout this room, each one made from the tops of old crates and barrel tops that may or may not have passed through this camp at one point or another over the turns. Each one offers it's own charm: burned with the branding of different crafters and different shipping warnings, even some added by the genius of some poor insufferable man with bad luck or one drunkard with a knife and fine sense of humor. Small chairs and stools are mismatched but the residents don't seem to mind as they settle down awaiting their drinks.

A long bar is nestled along one of the walls and behind it is where the bartender lurks, eyeing everyone who enters suspiciously as he wipes down the dark glossy surface and collects empty mugs left intact. Behind him are shelves of bottles, each a different shape or color, filled with the finest acquired over the turns. Intermingling and weaving throughout this place is the giggling serving girls, offering a drink or a wink to the patrons that spend their fine marks here.

High overhead among the rafters is the namesake of this place though it's currently without an occupant. A noose, already made and swaying gently in the air overhead rests old and worn. Whether it's just there as a piece of decoration or has been put to proper use in this places history is unknown and no man or woman is willing to find out for sure.

Time Out Room

This room is neither large nor small. The ceiling is neither high nor low, just about ten feet from the ground. It is neither bright nor dark, for the two lights that hang from the ceiling are kept dim. One thing, though, is sure about this room. It is used for specific purposes. These purposes are clearly shone in the tools, leather and chains on the walls. Most of the 'tools' are hung on one of the smaller walls, covering it almost fully from top to bottom. Whips, cuffs, straps, hooks, gags, knives, a few sticks in different sizes and more. In one of the corners of this wall is a small stone stove, and next to it is a set of branding tools.

The other walls (and there are even some in the ground) supports various sets of chains and leather straps in different settings, all for different purposes. Some can be used to hang a person out to fully expose their body to torture. Another is made to lift a person completely off the ground by their hands and knees, leaving them in a position for a… more 'disturbing' type of torture. The floor is sloped slightly towards the center of the room, and there is a small drain. In one corner of the room, three wooden chairs are stacked on top of each other.

Hidden Campsite

Nothing more than a copse surrounded by tall dried grasses conceals this small makeshift camp. A circle of stone sits in the center; the remnants of an old fire reduced to coals left behind by the previous occupants, the ashes long since blown away from the wind. Two fallen sun-bleached trees sit on either side of this circle, likely offering seating to anyone stopping here briefly for the night.

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