Post by Banshih on May 1, 2015 16:15:31 GMT
Hunting Lodge (RP Short)
(Rough draft, speed write for some background story involving acquiring a small holding. This story spins off a write I did using a first person perspective in a bar fight. This is a first / rough draft, errors happen.)
Some weeks ago, Deathstalker Field Commander #19171U had performed a favor for a Deathguard Executor during a chance encounter with the Exectutor’s living younger brother. The Executor’s younger still living brother had managed to steal much of the family’s heirlooms, and squirrel them away for himself in defiance of their tradition. Sure the eldest son was now an undead, but that did little to hamper any sense of righteous entitlement when it came to the family’s heirlooms and defunct holdings.
For her services rendered, the Deathstalker received an unlikely reward; a tattered deed.
“When you returned to me what was rightfully mine, there was something among the papers that I wanted you to have. The place is of no use for me these days, as I’m either marching shovel heads to the front or tied up in paperwork. Besides, in your line of work you will have more use and application for the place,” he’d offered her curtly while pressing into her grasp rolled parchment documents.
"What is this that you’ve given me?“ She’d ask, unrolling the parchments in her grasp to better examine their content. The first of which was a map, the second of which she would soon discover was an old deed. The deed had no actual legal weight now, so much as was more of a symbolic gesture.
"The papers? They are a part of something I’d won years ago in a card game with an old friend; a hunting lodge. Truthfully, I was a piss poor gambler and had the plague not swept through, I would have lost it back to him. The place, it was grand, our favorite autumn retreat during the deer’s rutting season. It was a play haven for us, far from our duties. I do not know if it still stands, or in what condition the old hunting lodge remains, but it’s yours now. ” He’d waved her on as to sooner return to duty, and at that the two parted. Frankly it was not his desire to return to duty that cut the conversation short, so much as his desire to avoid speaking of a distant past.
Come the next dawn, she’d ride out alone upon her skeletal warhorse. The landscape before her would transition from the open diseased plains of the Glades into the rolling hilly wildness of the range that separated the Silverpine Forest from the Glades. The land was still twisted here, the wildlife and fauna both still touched by the plague. As the Kingdom fell, and civilization came undone, the survivors had fled in all directions, often deep into the forests to never be seen or heard from again. In what condition would she find the lodge? Had survivors squatted there? Where the survivors still squatting there? Had some Forsaken taken up residence there? Was the hunting lodge even worth investing effort into? There were a good many questions that needed to be addressed.
Though she knew the land well, she’d have to depend upon the map to find the exact location - located too far off the grid to easily happen upon. Eventually she’d come upon a narrow and mostly overgrown stone road, long fallen out of favor. If the map was accurate, the forlorn road would lead her on to her distant destination.
What lay ahead was as promised. Arriving she’d pass through unhinged gates, only to be greeted by a once grand stone structure, a grand play thing of some long dead minor noble from a better time. Thick forest underbrush had crept onto the once respectable lawn, over taking smaller structures that had served adjacent to the lodge. Wild grass now stood waist high, untouched for years. Judging by the lack of traffic, she suspected the place had not harbored any refugees or life for some time. Dismounting, she’d carefully advance on the building on foot, dagger unsheathed. It was time for a closer inspection, and assessment of the situation…
Lodge Condition & Contents: Anything of greater value that would be easy to move has been pillaged. Contents of lesser value such as paintings, and furniture too large to move remains though sit now in need of repair due to destructive squatters. Judging by blood stains and blade marks in the dry wall of one room living squatters at some point met an undesirable fate in one room. The structure is sound, though in general disrepair. The ground once offered a kennel, servants’ lodgings, and stables. The kennel and servants’ lodgings have not survived and sit in ruin. The stables stand, though are in disrepair.