Thank you everyone for your entries and participation in voting! Dennis Haas is the winner of the popular vote with his entry “Abbey_Bear“. Stay tuned for the judging results and a list of our other winners. 🙂
Title: City Centre: 5/8
Description: The small hamlet of Pith lies on the edge of the Wightwood, just a mere day's journey to Wightwood Abbey. The old town was one of the first settlements made in the early days of Wightwood, and time has not be the kindest to it... well most of it. While the protective walls crumble and the rookery bares all to the elements, the city centre, a handmade garden stands elegant and well mannered. The garden stands as a compass rose to a map, and its Cardinal directions lead to various points within the region. To the North, led by the fires of the hooded servant, Wightwood Abbey's Cathedral. An ornate building dedicated to the god Palor, Lord of the Sun & Harvest. To the East, heralded by the bottomless fount of Umberlee, the port hamlet of Driftwood. This shanty town was once known as the Gateway to Wightwood, but with the expansion of settlements to the West, little use comes from this town anymore. To the South, lead by an enormous wrought iron bell standing guard, the way to Fort Wyrmwort. The fort is the primary defense of the region and houses a small battalion of the Crimson Army. They keep the peace in these lands and protect the citizens from the wilds of the woods. To the West, pointed to with a compass crafted of fine marble, lies the city of Iutxa Mare, Capitol city to the Wightwood lands and home to Thane Regient Maximillion Vorenus. This city is known as the Gateway to the World, as peoples from all over the known lands make there way there to trade, learn, & find their future. This garden stands with Grace, with Pride, and with ancient wisdoms to share to those worthy of the the Wightwood's secrets. . . So take some time while you're in Pith to daydream under the Grand White Wood, or maybe take shelter under its burly branches at night. . . when the moon is full and the wisps come a willowing. . .