Deep We Go
A city within a city, the Plucktown serves as barracks for the Fallcrest City Guard, an ever-flowing stream of mercenaries, murderers and fugitive soldiers from actoss the Hearthlands, hired to keep peace by the Consortium. High walls surround the compound, and within are all the amenities needed by boisterous soldiers; beer-houses, comfortable beds, dungeons and training grounds, and many secrets. Few civilians have entered and returned; most are prisoners destined for starvation, torture, or the unenviable demise of “winnowing”, a Plucktown tradition of tying a prisoner to a post and using their limbs, and eventually neck, as tests for new swords.
Plucktown is essentially autonomous, and no Consortium watchdug ever enters on official business. A steady flow of food and drink, whores, unfortunates, pets, musicians, blades, bows and fresh recruits trickle through the black gates, but little emerges other than the clanking, faceless ranks of patrols, blades already drawn.