The Crosses a large town in the midst of the ruins of an even larger one. Since before The War this area was a major trade hub, due to its prime location at the intersection of five Great Roads. Albeit these days, and as long back as any can recall, the southern road head deep into a haunted wood that no one dare travel for none have ever returned.
The denizens of The Crosses are mixed, varied, and ever changing. Given its prime trade location its population tends to be fairly migratory as merchants move in and through to ply their wares, refugees from one pace or another briefly seek respite, and thugs come in to prey on all of them. And there is no shortage of ruined dwellings to squat in, the general rule is if it's empty it's yours, and if anyone tries to take what you can't defend; well then it's theirs.
Places of Note:
The Cafatorium is a vast open aired, roofed market where travelers gather to eat from the various food stalls, rest in the shade, or to get water from a seemingly endless well. Unsurprisingly in such a place thieves, pickpockets, performers, and con-artists abound. None the less for any looking to meet up for trade, to join up, get hired or book passage with a caravan this is an ideal spot.
The Rose is located in the dead center of The Crosses where all the roads should meet, except they have crumbled and all but disappear within a few yards of the structure. The building is two stories tall and is somewhere between a dome and a sphere, with long cylindrical tubes jutting out the top at impossible angles. Most of the population of The Crosses tends to avoid the building, none walking with 30 or so feet from its facade.
Organizations of Note:
People of Note: