The elders called the old world broken. Taxes had stripped the grain from their stores, and the king's men took the youngest sons for a war no one understood. So, a small band of survivors packed what few tools they had into a single, creaking wagon and pushed into the unknown.
The town held, but the cost was high. Half the granaries were burned, and dozens of graves had to be dug in the frozen earth. 🍂 The Endless Cycle Farthest.Frontier.v0.8.2p4.rar
It happened on a crisp autumn morning. The horn blasted from the lookout tower. Raiders. Hundreds of them, smelling of grease and iron, emerged from the treeline. They didn't want land; they wanted the gold stored in Aldus's vaults. The elders called the old world broken
Years passed. The camp grew into a village, then a bustling town. and clover stretched across the valley. A massive stone wall replaced the rotting wooden palisades. The town held, but the cost was high
When the first blizzard hit, the wind howled through the cracks of the shelter. They ate smoked fish and prayed the firewood would last until the thaw. They survived, but barely. 🌾 Phase 2: Growth and Greed