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The Barony of Graywatch is the smallest administrative region of Fairpeak. It is defined by the sheer slopes of Mt. Hymetus, a towering snow-capped mountain of jagged rock and perilous weather. The borders of the barony stop at the foot of the mountain, and so precious few souls live within this jurisdiction outside Castle Graywatch itself.

Mt. Hymetus the Fair Peak is the mountain from which the region is given its name. Hymetus is so named ‘the fair’ because it was for many years unconquered, a ‘virgin’ mountain whose summit had never been scaled. Many tried, but the killer mountain claimed all who dared to challenge her. Eventually, an intrepid knight of Mirwood took a team of thirty servants up the slopes with him. All of them perished but for one young bard, who collapsed and died in prayer at the top. To this date, only two others have managed to make it to the top, yet only with assistance. Hymetus is pocked with countless abandoned mines and prospecting camps aimed at precious metals hidden deep underground. The mountain is also home to significant populations of great eagles and kobolds.

Under the mountain lays the lost Dwarven city of Dun Oirim. The once prosperous city was populated by the great Stoneframe Clan from the early ages of Azeroth, old allies of the Westridge humans. At the outbreak of the First War, however, the dwarves of the Dun Oirim collapsed the entrances and concealed them with spells, locking themselves within the mountain. The humans of Westridge saw this as cowardice and betrayal even against other Stoneframe dwarves who were left outside. When the land was eventually liberated by the forces of Duke Maxen Montclair, he found no sign of the Dwarves, nor of Dun Oirim. With the Dwarves unable to know the war’s end, and the Duke unable to gain entry, it seems Dun Oirim will remain sealed.

Castle Graywatch is the official seat of Fairpeak, though now sits abandoned. Located on the slopes of Hymetus, the castle is an imposing fortress. Five great towers, thick curtain walls, and a great keep at the center mark her as the largest man-made stone structure in Westridge. Graywatch is so large in fact, she has long since fallen into disrepair due to the crippling cost of upkeep. At full strength, the garrison would consume more than twenty cords of wood, just as many tonnes of food, and nearly enough water to drain a small lake in a week. Far more expensive a home than any current noble of Westridge could hope to afford, Graywatch has fallen dark and silent. In recent years, a few enterprising families attempted to call the castle their home, though never managing the grandeur of the original owners. The last lord who took residence here only lit the hearths in a few rooms.

As a strategic centerpoint for the county, Graywatch has a commanding view of all those approaching from the south for miles. Visitors to the castle are required to navigate a single narrow road winding its way up the mountain slope. Multiple ruined towers and gates guard this path, once a nigh unassailable route. The main gate, solid ironwood doors reinforced with rivets as large as a man’s head, still lay open to reveal an expansive courtyard. The former hub of activity, it now lies empty aside from a few ruined carts and ice accumulation. Chilling winds whip through the open area day and night, driving even the rats away.

Inside, the complex of rooms is made apparent. Grand vaulted halls, iron chandeliers full of cobwebs, and moth-eaten rugs hint at the splendor that once graced the lordly home. Suits of armor stand next to heraldic crests, while paintings of long dead nobles still hang judgingly on the walls. Some rooms still contain furniture and belongings from houses long extinct. Libraries gather dust, fireplaces sit frozen, and wine cellars have been looted of their treasure. Wind howls through the broken windows and empty hallways. Beneath the great fortress, in dark tunnels and frozen dungeons, scamper the manic feet of kobolds who have infested them.

One might think that a grueling siege during the First War was held here at Graywatch, but the truth is far more tragic. At the closing stages of the war, while the peasantry and their families were still filing into the castle, the Orcs had already arrived. The terrible wrath of the Horde fell upon the helpless people of Westridge, slaughtering them on their own approach to besiege the structure. Watching from the highest ramparts of Graywatch, Lord Rembrant Lightforge refused to sit idly by. Abandoning his fortress, he lead his knights and men through the front gates and into the Orcish lines. He knew, as did all of the brave souls who followed him, that they would die that day. A thousand men in shining armor charged down the mountain slopes to meet the furious slavering horde climbing up at them. Without the great castle to protect them, they fell before the greenskin tide - but they did not abandon their people. The orcs never breached the castle walls in battle, but they no longer needed to by the time it was over. Those still inside would eventually die of starvation or attempt to escape of their own accord.

There are currently no lords of these lands.

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