About this universe
A routine extermination contract spirals out of control when Alby's crew uncovers signs of a monstrous resurgence near a remote waystation. Tensions flare as old prejudices threaten to shatter the fragile trust among party members, and Alby must decide whether to confront his lingering grudges or let them consume him as darkness closes in.
Tone
Brooding and tense, with flashes of bitter humor amid the grimness. Violence is swift, trust is fleeting, and hope is hard-won.
Themes
revenge vs. forgiveness, prejudice, survival, trust under pressure
Protagonist
Alby
Alby radiates weary determination, his sharp half-elven features framed by a tangled mane of dark hair. He moves with the coiled grace of a predator, weathered leathers marked by countless hunts. His sunken eyes reveal a soul shaped by loss and bitterness, yet still able to muster a dry, cutting wit.
Goal: To successfully complete the extermination contract and get paid.
How it begins
Alby yanked his crossbow from the mud, cursing as foul water splattered his boots. A guttural roar echoed ahead, followed by the clang of steel and the panicked shouts of his crew. He sprinted beneath the warped boughs, arrow nocked, breath ragged in the chill air. The stench of rot and fur hit him as he ducked behind a moss-slicked log, just in time to see a hulking rat ogre lunge at the orc in his party, Grogar. The orc bared his tusks and swung his axe, the monster's claws raking sparks from the blade. Alby’s fingers tightened on the trigger. The rest of the crew scrambled for position, boots skidding on the leaf-choked earth. Rain thudded on the canopy while the battle raged, every shadow threatening to birth another horror.
About this world
The Bleak Marches is a wind-lashed wilderness, scarred by ancient wars and littered with the ruins of forgotten civilizations. Monster infestations plague the frontier, forcing desperate settlements to hire specialized exterminator crews. Deep prejudice festers among the races, and old grudges run as deep as the shadow-choked forests.
The Bleak Marches occupy the lawless border between the ruined human kingdoms to the west and the unforgiving elven highlands to the east. Jagged peaks loom over black pine forests, while tainted rivers seep through abandoned villages where only desperate souls remain. The land is battered by cold winds and eternal cloud cover, leaving days gray and nights perilously dark.
Society in the Marches is fractured and wary. Human and elven refugees cluster in palisaded settlements, ruled by militias or would-be warlords. Monster outbreaks are frequent and deadly; mutated horrors and long-lived predators stalk the wilds, drawn by residual magics from wars long past. This threat birthed the exterminator guilds: hard-edged bands hired to clear infestations that local militias cannot contain. Exterminators are mistrusted, seen as mercenaries who profit from misery and fraternize with the monstrous to understand their prey.
Elves, especially of the pureblooded highland lineages, view half-elves and orcs with open contempt. While orcs have begun to settle and reform, their presence stirs old traumas among those who remember the last marauder raids. In this harsh world, old enmities shape relationships, and survival trumps ideals. Folk cling to traditions or superstitions, charms against monsters, songs of lost hope, while the lucky few with knowledge of ancient magics or alchemical sciences hold rare power, trading secret lore for profit or protection.
Daily life is a cycle of toil, vigilance, and suspicion. Markets are crowded with haggard faces, and nights echo with howls from the monstrous wilds. Trust is a precious commodity, earned in blood and action. Every expedition into the dark brings the promise of coin, and new scars.
