Welcome to Kingsholm
Kingsholm
Kingholm is on the main road called The Kings Road. Nestled in one of the few arable valleys of the region. Kingholm is a rich and sleepy little town that benefits from trade with nearby dwarf clans and peaceful relations with baffling traders and gypsies. It has many trading bouses and storage facilities for minerals and other commodities.
Kingsholm (Small Town): Conventional; Population: 1,732; Mixed ( 7 5 % human, 1 1 % dwarf, 7% halfling, 4 % gnome, 3 % other). Major Locations: North Kingsholm - A series of plateaus like steps form the highest section of the village. Surrounded by dense forest and The Sword River to the north. 2 roads, 1 on the east and 1 one the west, snake through the forest leading down the plateau steps to the lower ground level of South Kingholm. A branch of the Sword River flows from the Northwest corner creating 2 waterfalls and small lakes before winding to the middle of the area and plunging off the plateau to form a beautiful large waterfall and at the bottom, a large lake in South Kingsholm. South Kingsholm - The lowest section of the village, The Kings Road runs directly through the center The Crown - defended by a low earthen rampart topped with a wooden palisade. Behind the village, a causeway rises to a great hall resting atop a craggy ridge.Authority Figures:
Town Speaker Phodor Landros, leader of the town council (currently away on business) Ian Turbrand Noble, town councilor and innkeeper of the Befuddled Beholder Inn. Banjatha Minwitten, town councilor and most potent local arcanist Egden Frumm, town councilor and oldest and most respected farmer in town Gran Stoutbrace, town councilor and owner of the Kingsholm General Store Hergon Hilltopple, town councilor and most powerful divine spellcaster Sannl Ungart, town councilor and trade overseer. Town Guard: Nothan, captain of the guardImportant Characters:
Compass - Fizzwick Tumblefoot, local Cartographer
As you step out from the Temple, a rush of crisp, cool mountain air fills your lungs, carrying the scent of damp earth and evergreen trees. The sudden brightness forces you to blink, but as your eyes adjust, the village comes into focus—a series of terraced plateaus that descend from the temple's high ground, each level dotted with quaint thatched cottages. The rooftops form a patchwork against the green slopes, creating the illusion of steps down into the heart of the settlement.
A river winds from the northwest corner, tumbling over the edge of a rocky ledge into a small, sparkling lake below. The sound of the waterfall echoes through the valley, adding a steady rhythm to the lively scene around you. Children dart across the open spaces, laughing and shouting as they chase after small animals—pigs and sheep dart between their legs, adding to the joyous chaos.
But amid the pastoral charm, something unsettling lurks. In nearly every direction, within the forest’s shadows, hundreds of scarecrows stand. They are grotesque creations, assembled from twisted branches and bleached bones, their jagged forms silhouetted against the dense woods. Their heads, made of skulls or crude bundles of sticks, seem to watch you with unblinking intensity. Each turn, each glance finds these eerie figures staring back, as if they possess a dark awareness of your presence. The longer you look, the more it feels as though these scarecrows are waiting, their hollow eyes tracking your every move, guardians of some ancient and terrible secret hidden within the trees.
Comments