Worldbuilding Prompt #938 - The Cursing of Blackstone Bridge

This post was inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding community - Worldbuilding Prompt #938 - Ghost Towns

It is set in my homebrew Dungeons & Dragons world, and is a kind of "origin story" to a place one of the parties had to pass through during an adventure in a place called The Warmark, a devastated and ruined land fought over endlessly in the savage on-off wars between the human Duchy of Enrieme and the elven Kingdom of Sidhiara.

TL;DR - they really, really annoyed one of my favourite (and strangest) NPC's 😁

Enjoy !

Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio

"So this is what Blackstone Bridge has become now."

Lady Neluthel Sopek's perfect face was dark and grim as she looked down on the town, her golden skin shading almost to copper in her wrath.

Sitting astride his gryphon next to her, Sir Gelmaedhre of the Eternal Lands appeared close to tears of rage. Sidhiaran elves had no emotion, it was said. He would prove that to be untrue.

Blackstone Bridge was a trading town, the gateway between Sidhiara and the human lands. It spanned the river, it's bridge being part of the Town Hall. For centuries, the King of Sidhiara had allowed and even encouraged it's human population to trade both ways. The town had grown rich on it, with a scattering of elves among it's human inhabitants.

It had no walls, and had never had need of them, until now. But now it had one, of sorts. A low, crude palisade on the Sidhiaran side of the river. A palisade topped with a ribbon of skin, flayed dismembered limbs and torsos nailed to it every few yards. A rough gate held dozens of vertical poles each with a lump on top, barely recognisable, that had until recently been the head of a Sidhiaran elf.

Lady Neluthel spurred her unicorn down towards the town with it's grisly fence. Two dozen seedling warriors trotted after her; servants created from the living branches and twigs of trees and bushes, each bearing a massive two-handed bronze khopesh.

She felt sick as she came closer. She recognised the tattoos on some of the skin ribbon. The skin of friends, fellow Sidhiarans who had been deliberately slaughtered in a way that denied them their next Mist.

Raising her slender silver lance, she called to the people she knew were hiding, watching her from behind the palisade.

"People of Blackstone Bridge, you have risen in rebellion against your masters and betters. King Arvildar the Golden, in his mercy, allowed you to exist in this place and profit from it. You have repaid this kindness in the most barbarous fashion."

She shook her spear angrily. "Hand over all those who did this thing now, and the innocent will be allowed to leave and go west, to make what life they will among their brutish kin. Fail, and the death of Blackstone Bridge and all who dwell here will be told in hushed tones thousands of years hence."

She didn't have to wait long for an answer. A dozen fire arrows arced over the palisade, aimed at her seedling warriors. A couple fell; no matter, they could be replaced.

Lady Neluthel waved her lance in a circle, chanting as she did so. A dozen arrows of her own appeared in the air, slim white shafts popping into existence and flicking over the barrier with unerring accuracy. Screams could be heard. Long, agonised screams as the poison on the arrowheads got to work.

Seeing her signal, the rest of the small elven force advanced on the town. There were only five actual elves, although each was mounted on a different beast. The rest of the army was composed of seedling warriors, fauns, satyrs, bears and magical spirits.

It was enough. Earth elementals shredded the palisade from below, and the elves advanced into town, casting spells of destruction as they went. Their wrath was clear to see. No living thing remained in their path, and the spells they used reflected their anger.

Not for them the clean deaths delivered by lightning bolts and magic missiles. No. They chose spells that boiled or burned enemies from the inside out, that raised their armour to red heat, that melted them with acid or turned flesh and bone inside out.

Finally they reached the bridge. Lady Neluthel recognised Darballan, the mayor, desperately hacking with a great mattock to break down the bridge as a thin line of defenders stood ready to hold off the fey elves until his task was done.

Lady Neluthel turned to Elelung Satask her sorcerer and to Sir Gelmaedhre and nodded. "We combine to do this together."

Then she faced Darballan and froze him mid-strike with a gesture.

"You betrayed us, Mayor of Blackstone Bridge. You swore loyalty to Sidhiara. You lied, and now it is time to pay the price."

"I curse you, and I curse this town. Twice thrice I curse you."

"The Westmark shall become the Warmark. Blackstone Bridge will appear whole by night and a ruin by day. The river shall run as black as it's name, filled with vile creatures. At night, the ghosts of your people shall rise again, to spend each night in agony as the marrow in their bones turns to molten lead. And you, as molten gold runs in your veins, will live over and over cutting down this bridge every night for the rest of time, and every sunset it will appear whole again to drive you to insanity."

Thus it was that Lady Neluthel Sopek of Sidhiara cursed Blackstone Bridge, and thus it was that it became a ghost town.

Map of Blackstone Bridge - created in https://watabou.itch.io/medieval-fantasy-city-generator