Westwatch Post
Once a vital part of the kingdom’s western defense, the Westwatch Post now stands abandoned, a silent reminder of a bygone era of vigilance. Situated atop a low hill just five miles west of the gates of Rivercrossing, the outpost was ideally placed to observe the Western Road and the wild lands beyond. It offered a commanding view of the path leading into the city, with the green expanse of the plains stretching out before it, and on clear days, the towers of Rivercrossing could be seen from the highest point of the post. This strategic positioning made it a key asset in monitoring any threats from the wilderness, particularly greenskin raids, that plagued the western frontier.
The watchpost itself consisted of a central tower, now half-collapsed and weathered with time, flanked by a series of smaller buildings: a modest stable, a dilapidated armory, and a smithy whose forge has long since gone cold. The wooden barricades and outbuildings, though sturdy in their prime, have suffered from years of neglect since the post was abandoned following the siege of Rivercrossing in 221AV. The greenskin attack had left the post in ruins, with the last of the defenders perishing in the skirmish, leaving no one to maintain the site. Despite the damage, it is still possible to find refuge within the watchpost’s crumbling walls, providing some shelter for travelers or those with ill intentions, though it's clear that the structure is no longer the formidable bastion it once was.
The outpost was built with practicality in mind. The central tower, once a watchful sentinel, is made of stone and wood, its original design intended for long-range observation and quick communication with Rivercrossing. The remnants of the signal fires can still be seen atop the tower, though the mechanisms to light them have long rotted away. The surrounding buildings housed soldiers who rotated in and out of service, living in makeshift quarters, with the armory and smithy stocked to ensure readiness in the event of a sudden assault. The stable, though deteriorating, still holds the ghosts of the steeds that carried soldiers into battle and back, offering a reminder of the duty once carried out here.
Despite its state of disrepair, the post offers a sense of both safety and eerie isolation. The surrounding area has become overgrown, with creeping vines and wild flora slowly reclaiming the land. The remnants of old campfires and supplies are still scattered around the outer perimeter, evidence of the occasional wanderer or rogue group that has taken shelter in the ruins. The air around Westwatch Post is heavy with the silence of abandonment, and the creaking of old wood in the wind is often the only sound, mingling with the distant calls of wildlife. Yet, beneath the layers of moss and rot, it’s clear that the post still holds value. Whether as a point of historical interest, a refuge from the dangers of the wilderness, or an unsettling reminder of the kingdom’s vulnerability, Westwatch Post remains a fixture of the landscape.
With the crown no longer maintaining the post, the local villagers and travelers have kept their distance. The costs to repair the damage were simply too high, and no one has yet come forward with the means or desire to restore the once-proud outpost. For now, Westwatch Post endures as a ghost of its former self, standing in quiet defiance of the passage of time, waiting for a purpose that may never come.
The watchpost itself consisted of a central tower, now half-collapsed and weathered with time, flanked by a series of smaller buildings: a modest stable, a dilapidated armory, and a smithy whose forge has long since gone cold. The wooden barricades and outbuildings, though sturdy in their prime, have suffered from years of neglect since the post was abandoned following the siege of Rivercrossing in 221AV. The greenskin attack had left the post in ruins, with the last of the defenders perishing in the skirmish, leaving no one to maintain the site. Despite the damage, it is still possible to find refuge within the watchpost’s crumbling walls, providing some shelter for travelers or those with ill intentions, though it's clear that the structure is no longer the formidable bastion it once was.
The outpost was built with practicality in mind. The central tower, once a watchful sentinel, is made of stone and wood, its original design intended for long-range observation and quick communication with Rivercrossing. The remnants of the signal fires can still be seen atop the tower, though the mechanisms to light them have long rotted away. The surrounding buildings housed soldiers who rotated in and out of service, living in makeshift quarters, with the armory and smithy stocked to ensure readiness in the event of a sudden assault. The stable, though deteriorating, still holds the ghosts of the steeds that carried soldiers into battle and back, offering a reminder of the duty once carried out here.
Despite its state of disrepair, the post offers a sense of both safety and eerie isolation. The surrounding area has become overgrown, with creeping vines and wild flora slowly reclaiming the land. The remnants of old campfires and supplies are still scattered around the outer perimeter, evidence of the occasional wanderer or rogue group that has taken shelter in the ruins. The air around Westwatch Post is heavy with the silence of abandonment, and the creaking of old wood in the wind is often the only sound, mingling with the distant calls of wildlife. Yet, beneath the layers of moss and rot, it’s clear that the post still holds value. Whether as a point of historical interest, a refuge from the dangers of the wilderness, or an unsettling reminder of the kingdom’s vulnerability, Westwatch Post remains a fixture of the landscape.
With the crown no longer maintaining the post, the local villagers and travelers have kept their distance. The costs to repair the damage were simply too high, and no one has yet come forward with the means or desire to restore the once-proud outpost. For now, Westwatch Post endures as a ghost of its former self, standing in quiet defiance of the passage of time, waiting for a purpose that may never come.
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