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Last Winter of Deadman's March

Dyrlyn City Streets

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a part of Last Winter of Deadman's March, by CyrDaan.

Stone paved roads.

CyrDaan holds sovereignty over Dyrlyn City Streets, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

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Setting

Main streets are wide enough for two carriages to pass by each other but pedestrians should step out of the way.
Side streets are wide enough for a single carriage and pedestrians.
Alleys only wide enough for two men abreast.
Sewer access is scattered around in alleys only.
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Dyrlyn City Streets

Stone paved roads.

Minimap

Dyrlyn City Streets is a part of Dyrlyn City.

1 Places in Dyrlyn City Streets:


0 Characters Present

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#, as written by CyrDaan
Doran Merekson bounced and his carriage rattled as wooden wheels rolled over uneven stone pavers. The motion was not comfortable and not for the first time he cursed The March for driving him out of town, and business. The roads in southern cities at least were dirt and smooth.

He pulled the curtain aside that covered one of the square windows of his small carriage and looked out into the street. The side street he traveled on was rife with trash, filth, and refugees. Dyrlyn City Guards at least managed to keep the main streets clear of the trash but couldn't do anything about refugees. There were just simply too many of them. Multiple families shared abandoned homes and still there was a constant crowd on the streets, they had nowhere to go.

Doran had of course hired and gave home to all he could. But not even he could take care of everyone, so he had focused on the skilled. They would be useful to him, some practiced their trade for him, some made use of their muscles on the streets for him, some sold their bodies for him and others their merchandise. The others, the useless, were simply out of luck. Of course they still rode on his generous back and hoped that his new coalition would get access for all southerners to travel north. If what he was trying to do worked, Merekson Coalition would be a trade empire.

The carriage slowed to halt and Doran realised that he had reached his destination. Swinging his carriage door open he took a few labored steps as he lowered his admittedly large mass to the ground. In front of him stood the door to a small shop obviously abandoned and looted but with a few signs of the beginning of a renovation. Above him swung a wooden sign on small iron chains that read Weland's Forge.

Doran stepped up to the door and rapt his knuckles on the heavy oak.