Middle Ward

Middle Ward is located on the west side of Drakkenheim between Shepards Gate and Temple Gate.

It contains the Rose Theater and the City Watch Barracks and The Guild Hall.

From "*The Bleeding Idiot's Guide to Drakkenheim*," by Montague Rharby, c. 1125:

"Well, well, well, let's have a talk about that charming 'spine' of Drakkenheim, the Middle Ward. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. And when I say fallen, I mean it. The Middle Ward didn't just trip and scrape its knee. It fell face first into a chasm of eldritch horrors and then got kicked a few extra times for good measure.

Guild Hall, once a place of honorable craft and lively commerce, now it’s more of a ‘Wild Hall.’ Might as well rename it ‘Guild Hellscape’. One moment you’re strolling by what used to be the place where mastersmiths honed their craft, the next moment you’re staring at a mind-twisting, eye-watering manifestation of the arcane that’s just turned your understanding of reality into origami. Twisted, isn’t it? Just don’t stare at it too long or you’ll start seeing sounds and hearing colors.

The Rose Theater, ah, the place where art came alive and dreams took flight. Now? It's the theatre of the grotesque, where nightmares are the performers and terror is the unending act. If you're really itching for a show, well, I hope you enjoy scenes like the walls weeping ichor, or the floors trying to swallow you whole. And the new performers? Let’s just say they’re less ‘actor’ and more ‘specter’. The only applause you'll hear now is the hollow echo of your own panicked heartbeat.

And the City Watch Barracks, the once stalwart stronghold of Drakkenheim’s finest? Well, if they’re watching anything now, it's from the afterlife. The only law and order now is the law of the jungle and the order of who can eat who first. It's a cruel mockery of their former discipline. Ghostly figures patrol in a never-ending drill that seems to be less about defense, and more about a haunting rehearsal of their last doomed stand. If you ask me, their newest recruits look suspiciously spectral.

The once quaint and charming streets like the Fiddler's Way, Scholar's Lane, and Baker's Row, are now a twisted nightmare. The haunting tunes you hear now on Fiddler's Way are not of instruments, but of the wind howling through shattered buildings. Scholar's Lane is all but a memory, its scribes replaced with desperate scrawls of the mad. And Baker's Row? I wouldn't recommend eating anything you find there unless you fancy turning into a slavering beast.

Middle Ward, once a grand stage for the everyday life of Drakkenheim, has had its curtains torn down, its stage broken, and the play turned into a grotesque farce. The heart of Drakkenheim doesn't beat here anymore. But if you're keen on exploring the place, be my guest. Just remember, you're doing it because you’re an Idiot with a capital I. And that's not me saying it, it’s you deciding to go there! Please Do Not!"

A description of the Middle Ward from before the meteor's fall, in "*Dispatches From Drakkenheim*," by Nathaniel Krumb (c. 1105):

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I now invite you to take an armchair tour of a district that forms the spine of our beloved city – the Middle Ward. Cradled comfortably between the grandeur of Queen's Park and the industrious hum of Market Square, the Middle Ward is the sturdy beam upon which Drakkenheim's magnificent tapestry hangs.

Shaped like a crescent moon and stretching along the scenic riverbank, the Middle Ward, also known as "The Spine", is a vista of storied buildings, cobblestone streets, and a tableau of Drakkenheim's everyday life that is as captivating as it is charming.

First and foremost among the many landmarks of Middle Ward is the venerable **Guild Hall**. A sturdy edifice of stone and timber, it's as much an emblem of the city's legacy as it is a hub of innovation. Here, in rooms filled with the steady hum of conversation and the sharp scent of parchment, the city's guilds ply their trades. From the zealous blacksmiths of the Forge Guild to the meticulous mapmakers of the Cartographer's Conclave, their shared pursuit of excellence forms the rhythm of life within the Guild Hall.

But the Guild Hall isn't alone in its grandeur. Not far away, amidst a cluster of holly oaks, stands the striking visage of the **Rose Theater.** Even from the outside, the theater radiates a sense of expectation, its red velvet curtains promising tales of courage and despair, love, and loss. Inside, you will find an opulent feast for the senses – gilded balconies, plush red seats, and the rich scent of aged wood and old magic. It's a space where reality mingles freely with imagination, where tales of yore come to life under the adept hands of talented thespians.

Now, let us navigate through the labyrinth of alleyways that radiate from the theater, towards the sobering grandeur of the **City Watch Barracks**. Home to the Hooded Lanterns, the courageous protectors of our city, the barracks are a stark contrast to the flamboyant splendor of the theater. But here, amidst the disciplined drills and the watchful gaze of stern faces, you will discover another form of artistry – the art of protecting and serving, the art of upholding Drakkenheim's law and order.

It's not just the imposing landmarks that lend Middle Ward its distinct character. There's an unassuming charm to the streets here. There's Fiddler's Way, where local musicians fill the air with melodies; or Scholar's Lane, with its quaint bookshops and busy scribes; and who can forget the cheery bustle of Baker's Row, with its mouthwatering scents of freshly baked loaves and sweet pastries.

While the Middle Ward lacks the majesty of Queen's Park or the entrepreneurial spirit of Market Square, it is the district where Drakkenheim's soul truly resides. Here, amid the symphony of hammer on anvil, the enchanting tales spun at the Rose Theater, and the solemn promise of protection by the Hooded Lanterns, the true heart of Drakkenheim beats. And so, dear reader, as we stroll along the cobblestone streets of Middle Ward, let us revel in the city's rhythmic pulse, drink in the distinct symphony of daily life, and find ourselves swept away in the simple, yet profound, beauty of Drakkenheim."