On the eastern shores of Novia, near Solace Bridge, lies a small fishing hamlet who’s trade and craftsmanship is known throughout all of New Britannia. Unwilling to cave into the pressure of mass development and large architecture, the patrons of the hamlet remain true to their history and beliefs, leveraging that which they know to be solid and trustworthy. In the early days, the hamlet was protected by a small militia, with a short, gruff leader named Bastion Krieg. Bastion was stout of heart and muscle and led his troops with the ferocity of a pack of grizzlies. For years the militia held off the miscellaneous dangers of this broken land, allowing free trade from this small port to the rest of Novia. Until the coming of the Undead. Fierce and organized, they grew more deadly with each raiding party.
One cold winters evening, came the most destructive battle in village history. The undead pressed on, relentless in their drive to seize the hamlet and its many assets. What the undead wanted remains a mystery to this day, some say they came down from Solace Bridge or perhaps the Eastreach Gap, I know not. For in this broken land after the Shardfall, there has been little unity, and even less long lasting peace.
The warlords of old took what they wished, and if you could not fight them, you became subject to them. So you fought for what you had, without boundaries and without regret. All you had was what you woke up with, and you hoped every day that when you went to sleep you had exactly that still. This is all that mattered to Bastion, that was his wish for the people he protected. Not who was here first, nor who was even the rightful possessor of the land, because most all known official rights were lost long, long ago.
Locked in battle with the undead leader on a cliff overlooking the village, Bastion could see his future slipping away. For all his heart and vigor he had not the stamina of his adversary who did not need breath, and continually rose again when felled. He knew this battle would not end well. With all the power he could muster, Bastion dropped his axe and ran headlong into the leader, wrapping his arms around it and pummeling headlong over the ocean cliffs into the frozen waters below. Disoriented and confused with the loss of their leader, the Undead lost focus and were driven back beyond the forest trees.
In the year that past after the battle, the militia grew in numbers and branched out to include more of the hamlet’s population. The deeds of the fallen leader inspired those that remained to fight for what they had, with everything they had, until there was no more to give. It was then that it was time to give yourself as well. Craftsmen, politicians, mages and knights joined the cause, and on the one year anniversary of his death, the militia was rebranded to a new name, Sacrifice, the organization that still protects the hamlet to this day.
What the name of the hamlet was before that day has been lost to time. Its residents only care about what it has become. On the upper cliffs overlooking the ocean now stands a memorial of the fallen leaders sacrifice, and to the port hamlet which carries his name, Bastions Point.