The Traders Post (Basic Base contest)

Cain founded the Trader’s post, initially, out of spite to the one who made him. He made it to survive where he was created just to die. When he laid in the catacombs of some dead place, having exiled himself to death while the others he had briefly met moved on, Cain was ready to die. But something kept bugging him. He was a creation, yes. He had no future in this world where he was just a copy, sure. But he was still Cain Price. No matter what he was. He was still a hero. And he refused to die for someone but those he cared for.

Using a ritual done by powerful beings before him, he turned his failing heart and body, already created out of limitless potential, into a catalyst, from this catalyst, he formed a Tavern known to him from the world he came from. An Inn made from his soul, one that would last for all eternity. If his heart was destroyed however. That would end his duty.


But that meant he had a home, a place where the real him had felt safe inside of for years, a place adventures found themselves resting at after a weary day, and yet he had no one to fill it with but his own lonesome self. That wouldn’t do. After creating his aides, created from all the memory he had left of them, to maintain the Inn and for his own sanity, Cain turned his attention to purpose, for himself and his new-found home. Why was he to survive? Would he stay in this building until the end of days? A hermit, taken from his home, isolated inside the shell of an Inn he once cared deeply for. What was this Inn for now? It had been the place of gathering’s, where heroes found themselves.


That was it. He wasn’t a hero. He was the shell of a man, he merely inherited the name and powers, limited as they were, of being such a shell. However. This world, the little he had explored it, was a place of heroes and villains. Powerful ones who had no need of him, and the ones who needed help like he once needed a long time ago. A place to consider safe, perhaps even come to know as home.

Like that, ideas flashed through his mind. What if he could do more than just give them a home? But a place to meet. A place to plan. What if this place was so much more than a home? He decided then, that he would not just have a home for those who needed it, but also a place for those who needed safety, rest, allies. This was going to become a base of operations for any who requested it. And Cain was going to see them through. To the bitter end.



The Inn looks like it belongs in a fantasy setting, wooden and homey feeling, with plains of glass that show the inside, heavy oak doors that lead inside, the second floor expands from the first, with several glass plains for each room. The house often appears away from other places, with enough room for the second floor to expand and shift, but it has an odd sense of always looking like it should belong, yet be so out of place.

The outer and ins of a post:

The Inn has four rooms of real importance. The main room, which consist of the base floor and the bathroom, has a spread of tables with enough room to easily move between them. Normally three to four chairs per table. The Bartenders area, blocked off by a mid waist-high tabletop that spreads along the backend of the main room, across from the bathroom, which consist of a single toilet and shower, due to the owners own non need for human needs, the bathroom is almost like a last minute addition. Also across from the bar area is the stairs, which lead upstairs into a large section of hallways that lead to several rooms and the blacksmiths room.

The rooms which guests stay, contain a single or double bed, depending on guests preference. A desk and chair for which the guest can sit to write, read or use the desk as they wish, along with a chest for which guests can keep things they do not wish to carry at the time. A cupboard to the side of the bed has extra sheets, blankets, pillow slips and a towel for any messes or shower needs. A window with an outer view is also in each room, with blinds for those who wish to keep the sun or peering eyes out. The upper floor appears much larger on the outside then the inside, and can expand and shift depending on how many guests it will be keeping.

The blacksmiths room is small and well-kept, with all the tools one would expect of a blacksmith. Smoke is vented through a fireplace which extends into the roof, and two beds, almost never touched, staying near the doors for the assistants should they ever find themselves tired, but it is more courtesy then need, due to the nature of the assistants.

Finally, hidden within the bartender’s area, an entrance towards the basement lies, where the physical body of Cain remains, along with a black, beating heart which floats in the middle of the room. The room itself is filled with a strange music only heard by those who enter it, like chanting songs of death and decay. Those who stay in the room for long will find themselves not wanting to leave, move or do anything until they become nothing but a husk. Cain keeps things of importance or rarity in this room, expecting the heart to keep out any rats and those who venture too deep.



This base serves many purposes. It is a place to rest. A place to find help and at the very most, a place where you can take a break, sit down and relax in a safe place. You don’t need to be a hero, or have any membership. The Inn almost can know if someone is in need of it, as the inn is also a place with limitless potential, held back only by the fact that it’s a creation of magic born from a creation of magic born from limitless potential.

The Inn is capable of teleportation, finding itself in a place where it would seem commonplace, by it’s own or Cain’s means. As a building, it is almost of no interest, but to those who need it, the Inn is a beacon of hope. For the man who owns it, and for those who are in need of it.