Founded by a Sembian family from Urmlaspyr, Lonelywood is a quiet town of loggers, fishers, and scrimshanders scratching out a living on the edge of the world. The town’s oldest buildings and docks bear carvings of dragons, lions, and goats that pay deference to the family’s crest, which featured a chimera.
Roughly half of Lonelywood’s able-bodied residents trawl the lake for knucklehead trout, while most of the others spend their days in the forest felling and hewing the trees that are used to construct boats and buildings. Lonelywood’s timber is taken by cart to be sold in other settlements, Termalaine and Targos in particular.
For as long as Ten-Towns has existed, Lonelywood has attracted the region’s shadiest element, from unrepentant thieves to cold-hearted killers. The thick forest looming behind it conceals the dark and sordid dealings that sometimes transpire there. Despite its attraction to criminals and miscreants, Lonelywood is not a place where folk murder each other in the streets. The realities of survival demand that the residents live and work together, and not dwell on history. A visitor can make many friends here but would be wise not to drudge up the dark deeds of anyone’s past in this small town.
Friendliness ❄❄❄ Services ❄❄ Comfort ❄❄
Population. 100
Speaker Speaker Nimsy Huddle (half-orc **scout)**
Food, rather than burden the townsfolk Speaker Nimsy Huddle provides the sacrifice from her own kitchen.
Militia. Muster up to 50 soldiers and 4 veterans.
Heraldry. Two narrow white triangles, one descending from the centre top, the other rising from centre bottom, almost meet on a forest-green field. The top triangle represents an icicle, denoting Lonelywood’s northerly location; the bottom triangle is an ivory horn, representing the town’s scrimshaw trade.
Rivals: Bremen, Termalaine, Targos.
Lonelywood has no inns or other places for visitors to rest, except for the town speaker’s house, which has a spacious, heated attic that can accommodate characters looking for a night’s rest. Other residents of Lonelywood value their privacy and are much less inclined to welcome strangers into their meagre dwellings.
Shop
This little shop facing the docks sells the tools of the scrimshander’s trade: needles and knives in a wide array of shapes and sizes, inks in a rainbow of colours, and wax used to seal an engraving when it’s done. The shop’s owner is a doughy spinster of few words named Iriskree Harrowhill . She doesn’t talk about her past except to speak fondly of people she once knew who have mysteriously died.