Silverdale Manor, Home to the Wanderers
A well-worn path in the outskirts of Cork leads to a settlement that goes by the name of Silverdale ran by Zechin it is a moderately-sized fief, located on top of a valley hidden by mountain ranges making it rather difficult for unwelcome visitors to breach the proximity of the manor. The estate thrives within its quaint yet serene atmosphere. Despite its natural fortification, Silverdale is well garrisoned for its population with only onenarrow gate an invading army would have only one way in, as to those whom soughtto leave the vicinity has only one way out. The exterior region is surroundedby glistening iron walls standing forty feet tall and fifteen feet thick thewalls itself are engulfed by a drawbridge moat. This manor is renowned for its surrounding woodlands and superior quality of wood. The local inhabitant’s brag of Silverdale’s self-sustainability, and trades only out of surplus of goods produced from their fields, workshops, and Iron mines. Rumor has it; the origin of the settlements name is due to the superior woodcraft the people are renowned for. Thus leads to the saying, “possession of Silverdale branches is worth just as much as silver bars”. The landscape is sprinkled with huge stones. You can see a small body of water to the north and depending on the time of the day the sun or moon can be seen spilling through the central keep.Huts, shops, and buildings of all sorts of predicaments, ranging from farms to apothecaries sprawled within Silverdale in grid like fashion in the center of this stood a miniature castle with towering central keep, home to no other than Zechin. The region is patrolled by a squadron of house guards garbed in dark attires wielding wooden shields, spears, and a composite bow slung across their shoulders. The tower is enormous, and the interior is furniture in an exotic tribal fashion none the less it is in remarkable condition. The manor is done in a color scheme that reminds you of a yurt brightened by torch lights. The yard is small and looks very formal resembling a meadow. Beyond the high garden, stand fields of wheat and cornstalks wavering under gentle breezes of the wind. Further ahead was a healthy bustling of activity where lines of labor’s carting barrels of crude iron out of the mine fresh from the deposits to be forged into iron bars.