par Armenfrast
Monde de Greyhawk
Grande Bibliothèque
Guides
Living Greyhawk
Base de Données (LG)
Vous devez être inscrit pour
accéder à la base de donnée.
accéder à la base de donnée.
The Grandwood and the Lone Heath
The peoples of the forest and heath are coming to terms with their position. Nearby rulers such as Drax in Rel Astra may be evil, but they and their people loathe the overking as much as the good peoples do. So the men and women of the Grandwood and Lone Heath are contemplating allying or negotiating with the nearby rulers.
The Grandwood and Lone Heath also have demihuman communities, giving them a quite different social picture to that found in the main continental lands. Especially in the Lone Heath, these communities are unusual and specialized, making them more colorful than most of their kind.
In these lands, the struggle for the good fight can be fought by those who oppose the evil rulers of the lands around. Here is a haven for PCs wanting a base of operations where friends and good comrades can be found and trusted.
The Grandwood
Pop.: 30,000 (plus 9,000 demihumans)
Capital: None
Ruler: Not applicable
Rulership: Variable discipline and organization
Cost Multiplier: 160%
The Grandwood has been a haven, historically, for renegades both good and bad. While Medegia claimed the forest south of the Mikar, the remainder was the overking's fief. However, the natural defenses of the Grandwood, with its central areas of dense forest, prevented imperial troops from raiding into its heart. The western third of the forest was relatively uninhabited because of those troops, but the forest folk learned to be cunning. A typical trick was to dress in the clothes of slain imperial troops to ambush others of the same ilk who came raiding later.
Unfortunately, as a response to this the overking used orc troops to raid the Grandwood, and because of their familiarity with it, many deserting orc troops filtered back into the forest.
Grandwood folk make their living from the forest itself, since that yields most of what they need. Weapons such as staves, bows, and spears are made from the variety of trees available. However, superior weapons such as swords and metal armor could not be usually had, save poor or mediocre quality equipment taken from killed imperials.
There is but one ore vein below the forest, tapped by the gnomes of Gaborren's Rift. But this yields gold and is useless for weapons. Many consider that gold should be used to get the weapons they need. Hence, the Grandwood men could certainly benefit from trade, just as cities like Rel Astra or Ountsy could certainly use the wood and food the forest offered. Such trade agreements would keep Drax from raiding the forest to get what his people need. This leaves Drax, who intends to march on Rauxes, free to use his troops in that endeavor.
Grandwood folk are unsurprisingly divided on whether they should trade with Rel Astra. It would offer them other benefits, such as peace, and with orcs raiding into the forest that would be welcome. However, many do not trust Drax; many years of fighting off Medegian and Rel Astran raiders make them suspicious.
Others object on moral grounds; Drax is still an evil despot, and it is wrong to trade with him. Still others reply that Grandwood food would go to feed the ordinary folk of Rel Astra, and that such trade would not be morally wrong since it would mostly benefit those commonfolk. The debates are endless.
The people of the Lone Heath add another dimension to the trade question. There are ties between the communities, especially between rangers and the druidic priests of Obad-Hai. The Lone Heath folk are almost all implacably opposed to the despots of the east and continue to raid and strike at their merchant caravans along the Iron Road and elsewhere.
In a first meeting with Grandwood folk, Drax's representative pointed out that the Grandwooders and the Heathfolk were allies, and surely the Grandwood people could prevail upon the Heathmen not to attack Rel Astran merchants? The request was reasonable, but the Grandwooders could not comply.
How all this will turn out is uncertain. If Drax should march on Rauxes and become overking, then the Grandwood people would be his implacable enemies and trade would be impossible. Some have, indeed, foreseen this possibility. But only Istus knows who will ascend the malachite throne, so the deliberations continue.
Woodsmen and Foresters
The majority of these people make a living and have communities just like others in the Adri Forest. One important difference, however, is the distribution of character classes among the forest men. Many of them are thieves, mages, and priests who fled from powerful rulers. This is unusual among Adri foresters.
About three percent of Grandwood adults are non-fighters, with levels determined by the DM as suits his campaign (but there are no renegade high patriarchs or archmages here).
Likewise, weaponry and equipment possessed by these men is similar to those of the Adri, except for exceptional characters who will often have brought their own special weapons and equipment with them, or perhaps some second generation woodsmen who have inherited them from parents.
A majority of the woodsmen are of Good (45%) or Neutral (35%) alignments. The remainder are considered to be evil renegades, and the two groups have different patterns of organization.
Non-evil woodsmen tend to have lived in the woods for longer, and many more have actually been born here. They have better defended homesteads, a few walled hamlets, and have good morale. The evil refugees are nomadic and forage to get by. They make only temporary camps for a few weeks or months at best and then move on.
Non-evil woodsmen do not have any overall leadership. Each community has its own elected spokesman. However, there is a secret conclave of such spokesmen held at the fortified site of Rivenwen every festival week, and here the communities try to organize their patrols, discuss matters which affect all of them, and (in the case of groups dominated by Lawful alignments) tend to share and barter resources and bounties which have come their way. No one commands anyone else; most communities are actually more concerned with cooperating with the demihumans, druids, priests, and rangers in their areas. Thus, cooperation between communities across the forest is relatively loose and informal. The rangers are the most important communication resource; they are the grapevine which spreads information across the forest. If a special conclave is needed, they are the ones who spread the word.
Bandits, Raiders and Menaces
These come in various shapes and sizes: evil renegades, deserting orcish and human troops, and army forces sent to raid the forest who have become less important since Drax has opted for a more conciliatory approach to the forest folk. Too, there are the humanoids of the forest itself, among whom orcs are the major menace (with some 600 gnolls being an equally important problem on the rare occasions when they organize effectively into a raiding party). By and large, these menaces have declined somewhat. The most threatened forest area is now the south, not the west, because of evil things slipping into the forest from Medegia. Even one or two fiends have been sighted on the southern forest margins, which has caused great alarm to the people living there.
These concerned individuals are among those who most desperately press for trade with Rel Astra, since woodsmen's weapons will not long keep fiends at bay. They may go their own way, and trade with Drax even if others disapprove.
The native forest orcs, a sub-tribe of the Euroz who call themselves the Eurork, have no love for those of their kind who have defected to the service of Aerdy rulers.
Priests of Gruumsh have pronounced heresy on them, and battles between orc residents and intruders are commonplace. The Eurork are more cunning than most orcs, with many shamans who have scouting and forest camouflage skills, so that their ambushes are more dangerous than those of most of their kind. Their blowpipemen are known to use paralyzing poisons when dealing with humans or elves. And the best way of dealing with them, if they're believed to be in the vicinity, is to taunt or anger them so that they loose their self control and attack on the rampage, eschewing ambush and skirmish strategies.
Wood Elves
The Grandwood is home to 7,000 elves, of whom 700 or so are grugach. The grugach live in and around the central densest forest, and they have few dealings with any other forest people. However, a cabal of fighter/mages among them has infrequent and cautious meetings with the moonmages of the wild elves, and these gatherings at least help to avoid misunderstandings with other forest people.
Woodsmen know to leave the grugach well alone. Any bandits or evil people who come this way, which they rarely do, do not usually return.
The other elves of the forest are unusual in that they have no clan divisions. Lacking much in the way of contact with other elves, they use the term "The People" to refer to themselves, and they have a strong sense of community. Neutral Good, rather than the usual Chaotic Good, is the most common alignment among them. Seniority and rank among the elves is determined by age and artistic talent. Thus, even a powerful mage among the elves will politely defer to the wisdom of an old matriarch or young sculptor in elven meetings and discussions.
This sense of being a people unto themselves applies even to those magically skilled individuals who know, through their communing with elven powers or magical travel to other lands, that they are not, of course, alone. A paradoxical sense of unity with the rest of Corellon's creation and a heightened sense of their own separateness go together for these elves. It is a paradox they have little desire to explain to anyone else, since they regard it as a matter of racial metaphysics (the lofty kind of verbiage they would use in discussing it) which concerns them alone.
To deepen the paradox, the elves have a sincere sense of oneness with the other peoples of the Grandwood. They care for the fates of every non-evil person in their forest home. The forest halflings are the people they are emotionally closest to. The elves are very protective of the small folk, while at the same time respecting and being delighted by the undoubted toughness and resourcefulness of the hardy halflings. The elves don't patronize anyone.
The elven tree archers are among the forest's best and most deadly defenders. But above all, the moonmages are the heart of the elven will to survive. Reverers of the power Sehanine, the majority are specialist illusionists who use spells such as hallucinatory terrain and massmorph to devastating effect in entrapping troops raiding the woods. Saving throws against these spells, when applicable, are made with a -2 penalty if cast by a moonmage.
However, there is much more to these gray clad wizards than ingenious illusions. They are the repository of knowledge, magical and historical, of the elves. They do not record their wisdom and learning in books but, rather, in a unique symbiotic arrangement with old treants of the forest. A moonmage communes for days with his partnered treant, sleeping and dreaming in its branches. As the elf does, he relives his history and communicates his own being, and all he has learned, to the treant. When a young moonmage is ready to gain an experience level, he comes to the treant and communes with it in the same way. Then, some of his elder's learning and wisdom passes to him, and so does something of the older mage's being, which strengthens the young elf's sense of community and identity with his fellows.
The treants learn much of life beyond the forest in this way, though they find much of it only mildly interesting. The uniquely elven nature of understanding life and wisdom is not something the treant consciously apprehends. When the treant itself grows old, and comes to its time of endless slumbering, it will call to the moonmages and ask to pass on all it has learned from them to a mature treant who will take on its role as a keeper of understandings. Non-elves cannot acquire knowledge from the treants, and magical mind reading or controlling spells will not yield up what the treant has stored.
For all this, the Grandwood elves should not be considered some transcendentally absorbed variety of unworldly creature. Any moonmage worth his salt can discuss the finer points of flight arrow design with the master fletchers or longbow users of his race. The Grandwood elves are among the most powerful, resilient, and aware of any on Oerth, and perhaps the strongest defenders of all that is good and true there.
Halflings and Gnomes
The 1,000 or so forest halflings are tough, burrow dwelling folk, a mix of halfling types. They are skilled at concealing themselves in the forest (having a base chance for hiding in woodlands, as a ranger can, of 15% + 5% per level if applicable). They use short spears, short bows, and throwing knives to great effect. Excellent preparers of pit traps and weighted net traps cunningly camouflaged with leaves from the trees, they know how to defend themselves and their communities. They are avoided by any forest raiders who know what they are doing. It would be easier to assault a palisaded hamlet of a hundred woodsmen than to try to dig 20 halflings out of a burrow complex.
The halflings cooperate best with the wood elves, gnomes, and rangers of the Grandwood, though their basic attitude to any woodsman is peaceable. They readily form alliances with woodsmen who have lived in the Grandwood for many years or who were born there. The halflings are not much interested in events outside the woods, since they are quite self sufficient. However, from time to time one unusually curious and ambitious young halfling thief will sneak off to the wicked world beyond to seek fortune and fame.
Grandwood halflings are tough. They are not cute little folk, and they loathe being patronized. They have excellent forestry and foraging skills. If the DM possesses the Complete Book of Gnomes and Halflings, he may consider customizing the forestwalker kit for developing halfling NPCs here.
The forest gnomes are detailed in the entry for Gaborren's Rift below.
Rangers
Grandwood rangers tend to stay in certain sections of the forest and patrol them, protecting the local settlements of woodsmen and others. It is a matter of pride to a ranger to know every inch of his home like the creases on his hand. Such rangers will even have names for individual forest creatures of any size, such as badgers or foxes, and they have an unerring sense of any changes to their local area.
It is effectively impossible for anyone to cross their lands without their knowing it. A successful Wisdom check even allows the rangers to detect the passage of a druid who has used a pass without trace spell to cross their terrain.
Thus, the relationship of a ranger to his community is almost like that of a village constable or sergeant at arms to the folk therein. They are localized protectors and warners, guardians above all else.
Of course, this is not universally true. Chaotic rangers journey beyond the boundaries of the forest -- often to the Lone Heath -- and travel widely within it, spreading the latest news, information, and gossip. If the need arises for identification of themselves to each other or some uncertain group of woodsmen they haven't met before, the rangers use a signalling system of coordinated hand gestures and eye movements. A fraternal handshake with the small finger crooked into the palm of the hand when both parties feel secure enough to approach more closely. They do not have a marking system of terrain as the Gnarley rangers do, for they don't need one given the knowledge rangers have of their home area.
The Grandwood rangers have no hierarchy, but there is one among them who they universally respect. Fiorena Goldhand wanders widely through the Grandwood and seems always to have knowledge of what is going on in places such as Rel Astra, Ountsy, and even Rauxes itself. Fiorena's consort ranger, who is known simply by the name Auruma, is a quiet and silent type, but one clearly possessed of great strength. One woodsmen fleeing from orcs who accidentally ran into Auruma's back described it as feeling like running into a rock. The ranger didn't budge an inch.
Fiorena and Auruma have a special affinity with the wood elves and in matters of grave import; these two will meet with the Moonmages to discuss what must be done. This happens if some major menace should arise, such as a large warband entering the Grandwood or, most recently, to discuss the incursions of fiends into the southern woodland. These two rangers are currently thought to be in the southern woodland, seeking to destroy those invaders. On the basis of those discussions, Fiorena lets other rangers know what should be done by the forest defenders; she only suggests and seeks to persuade, not to order. However, that her advice is almost always obeyed.
Druids and Priests
There is no major, dominant ethos or priesthood within the Grandwood. Among the druids there is the all too frequent animosity between the more seclusive, but well informed and knowledgeable, druids of Obad-hai. They wander as they will, while the druids of Ehlonna tend to stay closer to areas with higher density of human habitations. What is unusual about the Grandwood is that there are tiny, scattered handfuls of priests of many good faiths, such as those of Atroa and even Berei (among those with a generous portion of Flan blood in their veins).
Most cabins or huts will have a little family icon or statuette of a power, to which food or flowers may be offered, or candles burned, as appropriate. There is a quiet religious feeling among most folk which they do not impress on outsiders. Interestingly, it is not the more obviously martial and protective powers such as Heironeous or St. Cuthbert which most folk revere. Rather, the quieter and gentler paths of Atroa, Ehlonna, Berei, and Pelor find most favor here.
Beory's faith is also one which almost all the common folk offer tokens to in spring and at the first fall of leaves in the autumnal months.
The relatively few priests here tend to be wanderers and itinerants who move from place to place, giving healing, consecrations at births and marriages, offering funeral rites, and performing small services in return for a bed for the night and warm food. The one truly powerful priestess of the forest is Taralene of Atroa, who is almost regarded as a saintly figure by Grandwooders. To have a newborn infant named and blessed by her is a regarded as a great good fortune. The priestess has her home at the Bellfields, described below.
Locations and Settlements
Bellfields
In the heart of the forest stands this lushly grassed meadowlike clearing some 200 yards in diameter, with a stout wooden cabin standing in its center. The place is well named, for the arrival of spring is heralded by a sudden eruption of a solid carpet of azure bluebells which seem almost to spring up in full flower overnight. The entire area has an antipathy spell for all evil aligned creatures operating upon it and for some 100 yards in all directions beyond it.
Bellfields is the home of Taralene and her three juniors, one a priest of no mean attainments himself (a 10th level priest). Those who know Bellfields know that an owl hoot is the way to call one of Atroa's priests from their home. Any other signal usually rouses the two huge wolfhounds here (treat as 7+7 HD worgs), who growl and snarl at the visitors.
Bellfields radiates strong healing magic. Injured and diseased natural animals (not monsters, people, or demihumans) which enter the area fall into a deep sleep. When they awaken their wounds or illness is healed, unless the injury is very severe in which case they pass peacefully from the world, without pain. The forest creatures seem to know this, for some will travel many miles, even if badly hurt, to get here.
Because they know of this magic, a group of brownies has travelled from the heart of the forest to watch over Bellfields and they have spread the word around. They even kidnapped a kilmoulis, brought it struggling here in a sack, and told it in no uncertain terms that this was its new home and it had better serve Taralene well. Initially resentful, the little creature now scarcely believes its luck.
Pegasi, unicorns, and other such rare and magical creatures visit here from time to time, and the ubiquitous cranes on their way to fish the Mikar are not the only reason Gwydiesin stops here from time to time. Taralene is not a warrior-priest, and she has no real dealings with rangers or elves who play martial roles. But her quiet passage through the world and the hearts of men is very much part of the defense of the Grandwood.
Gaborren's Rift
This deep mine is home to virtually all the 700 gnomes of the Grandwood. The mine yields up gold, which the gnomes trade mostly to the wood elves who use it for making jewelry and statuary. In return, the gnomes receive food, crafted items, and even a magical item or two. Sometimes, a widely traveling moonmage may use teleportation to take the gold farther to trade. The gnomes here are miners, so they are regarded as rock gnomes, not forest gnomes, even though they are forest dwellers.
The gnomes have the perimeter of their mine very well guarded indeed. Deadfalls and other traps are just the obvious part, but the gnomes also have seven trained horned iguanas as guards; a rush attack from one of these beasts can inflict severe damage. With improved invisibility cast on them, the iguanas make formidable allies. The gnomes also use their own specialized type of hand catapult. It is treated as sling, but the gnomes are +1 to hit with this weapon, and they do not just fire stones from them. The gnomes have learned to manufacture poisonous and choking concoctions from leaf and plant molds that are contained in small glass spheres which break on impact. The effects are diverse, but can vary from Class B poison (inhaled rather than injected) to the severity of dust of sneezing and choking (a +2 bonus is permitted to the saving throw, however, since this is a biological and not a magical attack).
The clannish rift gnomes are wary of any visitors other than wood elves. They don't deal much with the humans, and they tend to send even native woodsmen packing if one of their spies spots a woodsman approaching too closely. The gnomes do have a gold mine here, after all.
The one exception to their relative insularity is if any sizeable number of orcs approaches within even a score of miles. The gnomes have a unique myth about Garl Glittergold, one of the very few in which he is combative, when faced with the brutishness of Gruumsh. So they especially loathe orcs. A gnome warband -- and this is a rare sight -- will always emerge from the mines, its leaders riding the biggest of the iguanas, to sally forth and attack the orcs. The orcs have not yet won.
If the gnomes come across any hidden pockets of buried and secret evils within their mines, they aren't saying. They keep to themselves, and visitors had better be something special to be invited to meet with the clan elders.
Spikerift
Hidden away in the deepest forest, Spikerift is a deep natural depression in the forest floor descending some 150 feet to a water filled rocky crater from which many small caverns and passageways lead, the entry to most of them being submerged. The vegetation is dominated by sharp leaved grasses and long thorned bushes, so that skin can left badly bleeding and leather or clothing severely torn simply by trying to get through the tangle of undergrowth.
The water in the lakelet is inky black and bitterly cold even at the height of summer. Animal life is sparse, although from time to time great bubbles burst to the surface of the water, suggesting that something large is living at the bottom. Great eel like creatures have been seen slithering into the cave entrances, and at nights a silky phosphorescence has been seen at the entrance to some cave mouths.
There are many wild rumors about Spikerift and the monsters, magic and evil which lurk in the submerged caves. Even elves and rangers avoid the caves, fearing they might awaken a slumbering evil. The most persistent rumor is that a priest of Nerull has been placed in temporal stasis by rival priests of Hextor. As part of the powerful wards which bind him into that state, a potent good aligned magical artifact had to be used to neutralize the evil magic which some might attempt to use to awaken the priest. Taking the artifact, variously described as a stave or crook, would free the priest. Any attempting to retrieve it had best be sure they could deal with an enraged and powerful priest of the Reaper, else their meddling would bring a terrible new danger to the Grandwood.
Tormengrend
Tormengrend is described here as a typical larger settlement of woodsfolk; others of similar size certainly exist, but have relatively little to distinguish them from this place.
Wooden palisade walls with sharpened tips protect the hamlet, which has 28 wooden cabins and 117 people living within. Three rangers (of 2nd, 3rd and 5th level) guard an area of some 100 square miles centered on the settlement. Further guarding comes in the form of concealed pits dug around the hamlet, which have spiked spear traps set within them. Because of these, children are never allowed to leave the hamlet to play unescorted. Only when a child has his coming of age at 14 and shows that he has memorized exactly where every pit is can he leave alone. Even then, that's rare; foraging, trapping or taking fungi, berries, tubers, elderberries and the like is done by small groups of people.
Tormengrend is unusually fortunate in that it has a resident 1st level priest of Atroa with the herbalism proficiency, able to cure wounds and make poultices and nonmagical potions for all kinds of ailments. The mustard foot baths and inhalations for the colds of winter are the most widely used. She can also extract rotted teeth swiftly and efficiently, and that's no little blessing for such humble forest people.
The hamlet also has a prized armory -- a half dozen elven longbows brought by wood elf visitors one Brewfest and two longswords brought by the oldest of the rangers from a skirmish with imperial deserters. These supplement the staves, spears, and crossbows the villagers have, with the best of the foragers having heavy hunting and skinning knives as well.
This is a humble place. Tormengrend, and anywhere like it, is a good setting to give PCs who take much for granted a reminder of the wrinkles of everyday real life in the Grandwood.
The Lone Heath
The Lone Heath is a mix of heathland and marshland. Marshland areas are more watery, tend to be on the margins of the Mikar and around its headwaters, and have fairly abundant tall grass. Reed and willow growths provide excellent cover and camouflage, though taller trees do not grow in abundance on the very wet soil. The heathland areas are drier and rockier, with poor soil, and have growths of heather and bracken like plants, and tough leaved members of various families of fern, together with scrub bush growth and a few copses of stunted trees.
Though the place is referred to as the Lone Heath, it is the marshland areas which provide the best homes for its occupants, since camouflage is better and hunting, foraging, and trapping tend to be better rewarded. And, of course, both marsh and river have good fish and bird reserves.
The Lone Heath has no tracks nor trails. Nor does it have any permanent settlements of any size. Most of the inhabitants are nomadic and make temporary camps. This continual wandering was once to avoid any imperial forces hunting the people here. But even for those without generations of tribesman ancestry behind them, it has become a way of life.
Unlike the Grandwood, the Lone Heath has virtually no evil humanoids, bandits, or refugees permanently living within its confines. This is because the indigenous peoples appear to be able to sniff out such intruders and drive them off without any offer of peace or quarter. But there is more to this lack of evil than that vigilance, and perhaps Gywdiesin is the key to that.
The folk here will have no truck with any evil ruler beyond their homelands. Virtually all of them have family tales of suffering and torment inflicted by the evil nobility and rulers of Aerdi. And they will not deal with them now, even if it should benefit them in some ways to do so. To them, one does not deal with one's persecutors simply because it suits those men to be cooperative now. The cooperation surely will not last.
Tribesmen
Tribesmen have always existed in the Lone Heath, and no one has ever really exerted any rulership over them. Most are Chaotic Neutral, and they move around in extended family groups of 20 or so and more rarely in family aggregates of up to a hundred, but no larger.
Wearing ragged clothing usually made from animal skins, the tribesmen use facial scarring and bird feathers for decoration and ornamental. Vegetable dyes are used for skin coloration and camouflage, and the tribesmen are also excellent mimics of the sounds of marshland animals and fowls, a skill useful in hunting. Spears, especially fine throwing spears, bows, and nets are their most common weapons.
They are always suspicious of outsiders, and since they have little to trade they don't seek any contact. Rangers they know and accept, and sometimes buy a little in the way of knives, tools, or pots from them by bartering with skins or food.
The tribesmen have their own shamans, primarily druids of Obad-hai, who lead them on their nomadic wanderings. Since many small family groups speak very heavily accented Common, or even a variant of Oeridian dialects, the shamans usually do the talking. Lastly, virtually every group has 1d8+2 hunting dogs, animals which also serve as camp guards (treat them as war dogs). Nomadic groups meeting each other will sometimes place bets (of animal skins, fine feathered belts, etc.) on which of their pack is the best hunter. And some celebrate Brewfest by gathering in much larger bands (up to 400 to 500) for massed hunts and an awarding of prizes to their best dogs. That also allows for breeding between packs of the dogs, and for marriage arrangements which in truth have little more subtlety to them.
Marsh Dwarves
The 200 or so marsh dwarves of the Lone Heath are unique. They are hunter-gatherers, members of a single clan, and they specialize in fishing and trapping lizards and other small reptiles and animals. Visitors are warned to avoid having to listen to a marsh dwarf's "one that got away" story. Every last dwarf has one, and if it's concluded on the same day that the telling begins, the listener is indeed fortunate. Since the telling is always accompanied by the eating of pickled fish and the consumption of thick, sweet berry wine, the listener is also fortunate if the contents of his stomach don't reappear during the storytelling.
This is an odd group of folk. The dwarves have a sly, riddling type of humor which is almost incomprehensible to outsiders and nothing at all like normal dwarven humor. They also have little interest in history or even their own ancestries, which again is highly unusual.
There is no reverence of any dwarven power, and the community lacks priests or shamans. The dwarves are also extraordinarily fastidious. They bathe in the Mikar, or streams around it, at least twice a day. And one of the most esteemed members of the community is an old female dwarf who makes scented soaps from animal fat and flower extracts. During Brewfest, which the dwarves consider as the ending of the year (they have their own calendar system), one can hear the drunken dwarves singing some distance away. The dwarves have no time for ornamentation or even golden trinkets, and are severely functional in what they wear and use.
This is a rugged group. They have superb survival skills and are exceptionally hardy (Constitution scores of 11+1d8, and no dwarf has fewer than 4 hp per die). They are alert and vigilant, and while more sociable than most dwarves they are careful with outsiders. They do not give trust readily. Again, they know the rangers, but they are fairly cool even with them.
The dwarves have excellent weather sense, and a few of them have the ability to sense impending danger as if they were precognitive. They make less temporary camps than most people, moving on typically after Brewfest each year, taking their pickled and dried food to somewhere safe and sheltered for winter. During winter, a dwarf might sleep for up to 18 hours a day, almost hibernating. This tends to make them even more long lived than usual for their race, though the marsh dwarf who tells you he saw the first overking crowned in Rauxes is probably stretching the truth.
Other Demihumans
The total of gnomes and halflings is probably fewer than 1,000, and they tend to favor burrowed dwellings in the heathland rather than the watery and more fertile marshes. It is almost impossible to harvest much food other than small animals there, but the gnomes in particular have been successful at growing fungi and a distressingly yellow-cream colored tuber underground; these form the basis for their diet.
The halflings, however, are hungrier little folk who like to trade for food, and they always pay with gold signet rings and old imperial coins. Where they acquire these, only they know, and they certainly aren't telling. Most people suspect the burrowing halflings -- who have dug much deeper than these folk usually do -- must have uncovered some great treasure cache. And the people worry about what else the halflings might uncover if they are encouraged by this to go on digging deeper still.
The 600 high elves dwell exclusively in the marshes. This is surely a group long isolated from all others, for the elves are exceptionally tall. Almost all adults stand considerably more than 6', and the usual build is very slim (subtract -2 from Con and add +2 to Dex for these elves). They have superb senses and unparalleled infravision abilities, up to a 240' range.
The elves are gatherers, and are virtually all regular vegetarians. However, some meat is taken at ritual meals every other Starday, with thanks given to the animal consumed for giving up its life for the benefit of the elves.
This single extended clan acts as the watchers over the Lone Heath, even more so than the rangers of the place. They cooperate well with the rangers, but for the most part they do not seek any conversation or meetings with other groups. The exception to this is a fighter/mage of clearly considerable age, Carferlen, who has an excellent knowledge of events in Aerdy and, indeed, across much of the Flanaess.
It is obvious he has many sources of information in far away places -- or perhaps just one or two truly exceptionally well informed friends. Carferlen is always eager to hear news, and he can also express penetrating views on the events of the land ("Well, if I was Drax's shoes, Corellon forbid, I would..." followed by a very fine exposition of what that despot probably ought to do to further his goals). Carferlen also has an extensive knowledge of the names, specializations, and major achievements of every mage to have walked the Flanaess during his lifetime, and of many well before that -- which was a long, long time ago.
Rangers and Others
In addition to ordinary tribesmen, there are a total of 700 adventurers who have fled to the refuge of the Lone Heath over the decades. Rangers predominate them, simply because the children born to those who come here tend mostly to take up this profession and because a handful of those arriving train as rangers when they settle here. Oddly enough, these refugees tend to take to the nomadic life relatively easily. It takes some getting used to, for mages used to stuffy alchemist's laboratories and priests used to the musty corridors and halls of great temples. Yet somehow after a few months of grumbling over chilblains, colds, and damp blankets due to nighttime rain or morning dawn life gets easier.
The sense of community between these people, who are overwhelmingly of good alignment, helps. However, it must be said that Reorxen the mage, who has a miniature ceramic house which can be commanded to become an overnight Leomund's secure shelter, is a very popular man indeed judging by the number of visitors he gets.
Morale among these people is excellent. A charismatic priest of Pelor, Hyren, organizes meetings and gives blessings and sermons which even those without religious views find uplifting. Hyren has had no few ardent converts to his faith here.
However, the rangers are the leaders of the free people of the Lone Heath, hierarchically organized under their lord, Marcenn Simraith. It is they who protect the borders of the lands, screen and vet newcomers, and teach them survival skills. Watching a ranger slowly losing his patience trying to teach a hopelessly clumsy mage how to set a snare trap is a sight which any DM should spring upon PC visitors.
They organize the raiding parties which strike at supply trains heading to or from the Free Cities, though the mages provide a great deal of help with this (with invisibility, protection from evil 10' radius, fly and the like rather using spells which maximize casualties among their victims). These strikes are vital. They are not just for food and clothing (which aren't in short supply) but for tools, weapons, worked items, and simple goods like parchments and inks, which mages need.
In addition to this community, there are perhaps 5,000 refugees who are normal men and women who could not tolerate the wickedness of the Free Cities, or have fled from afar as Delaric. The stories they have brought from that terrible place have caused some nightmares. Many of these folk have enthusiastically converted to a good aligned faith if they did not follow one already, and they have learned to survive in the wide expanses of the marshes. About half of them have come here during or since the wars, and adapting to this influx of new faces has been a major difficulty; there are many people to teach and train, and few rangers and other veterans to do it. However, the Lone Heath encourages survival.
The Future
The Lone Heath has become something of a citadel of good. There are hundreds of capable adventurers and thousands of men and women who could be organized into a levy with excellent morale. This could be quite a force; capable of taking a major city and holding it.
This won't happen for a long time. While the people are enthusiastic, their equipment is poor. It's good enough to fend off attackers, but not to march out and take a land and city. Also, they like the nomad life. There's something about the Lone Heath which cannot be expressed to those who have not lived there. The stars seem brighter in the sky. When a footfall is made in the wrong place, the poisonous snake which darts out just seems to miss that ankle bite which could kill in minutes. Some warm summer days, the mosquitoes just don't seem to bite while the fish just keep taking the bait. There is a deep and insidious good magic at work here, and its effects are subtle. But the place grows on those who come here in good faith.
It is possible, however, that rangers, mages, and others might organize themselves to mount some major strike against Ountsy, Farlen, or another place and take away a great deal of wealth and equipment which might secure the future for the people here. Still, that might actually make things worse, since it might invite major reprisals.
Gwydiesin of the Cranes
Presented separately from the other characters because of his uniqueness, this old man holds many of the secrets of the Grandwood and Lone Heath in his heart. His basic stats are:
30th level Bard: Str 15, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 18, Wis 20, Cha 20. AC -3 (silvered chain mail +5 of spell turning, cloak of displacement), hp 116, AL N (NG). Spells: 6 each of levels 1-6, 3 7th level, 2 8th level, 1 9th level, and may substitute one druidic spell per level for a wizard spell. Special abilities: all bardic thief skills at 95% irrespective of modifiers; songs give +4 to morale of friends in melee and once a week he can make friends fearless for 3 turns; identifies all magical items, even relics and nonesuch items; can use all written items usable by wizards without any chance of spell failure, can polymorph self as druid three times a day.
These statistics do not set a precedent for high level bards. Gwydiesin is a singular character, beyond normal game rules.
Gywdiesin is very, very old. He looks perhaps in his early 60's, with a magnificent mane of silver hair tied back in a long braided ponytail and thonged with silvered leather. He wears simple, coarse clothed brown robes, and his fingers bear no rings. He is a proud 6' 4", of medium build, and he stands upright and regal. Gwydiesin's immense Charisma impresses any who see him. He has many magical items, but the one most often associated with him is the simple lantern he usually carries, which has the combined powers of a gem of seeing, a gem of brightness and a helm of brilliance.
His full name comes from an especial love the old man has of the beautiful black and silver winged cranes which nest every spring along the Mikar, and in the Lone Heath marshlands. Some years, if the waters are high in the headwaters, the marshes flood and the nesting sites become sodden; the cranes abandon their eggs. Gwydiesin then prowls the marshes rescuing the eggs (druids of Obad-hai bring them to him, too), and he takes them back to his home in the deep forest of the Grandwood. Using control temperature 10' radius and delicate hand turning of the eggs round the clock to ensure even warming, the old bard hatches fledglings. Feeding them by hand and stroking the small chicks with an extraordinary gentleness, the time comes when the bard has to teach them to fly (which normally they learn by observing their parents as their own muscles develop). Amused spectators are treated to the spectacle of the old man running around flapping his arms up and down, with a squadron of enthusiastic young cranes doing their clumsy best to follow his example. Any who are close enough might see the hint of a tear in the bard's blue eyes as the last bird flies uncertainly into the sky, and then with greater assurance rises into the wide blue beyond.
Gwydiesin travels where he wishes in forest and heath, and talks with who he wishes. He knows, and deals with, most leaders of any significance. Without exception, they speak of the man in tones of reverence. Fiorena has been known to say that if she had known beforehand what she would feel during the bard's recounting The Doorway to the Summer Stars, she would gladly have given ten years of life to hear his words. Gwydiesin only offers verse and song (almost always verse in preference) when the mood is upon him, and in truth not everyone always wishes to hear the bard's declamations. The emotions he can draw forth are so strong as to be painful in their intensity.
Yet, Gwydiesin has a playful and light hearted side, too. During his retelling of The Battle of the Trees to an audience of elder treants (hardly favorers of levity) he teased an especially old birch he knew was slightly resented by the others on account of its self esteem. He reminded the birch it had been late for that epic struggle with Aerdy axemen, "nor from any diffidence, but because of his magnificence." The subtlety of his intoning left the birch feeling pleased at the compliment, since Gwydiesin obviously recognized that the birch simply had to have the right moment for entry into the fray, with the other treants were wryly amused at the jest which the birch could not see because of its inflated self esteem.
Gywdiesin is a child of Johydee, of course. He has spent nearly 700 years in the world, and he has more knowledge than perhaps any soul living on Oerth. There hardly can be a legend, tale, or myth which the man does not know. Often, however, he will tell a tale in its original form which he knows mixes truth with inaccuracy, because he wishes to test the perceptiveness of the listener or because the mood takes him. He does not lie; he tells the tale as it always has been told, But he does not always tell what he knows to be the real truth.
Gywdiesin is a reverer of Beory, although that is putting things too mildly. Rather, what fires Gwydiesin's heart and soul and puts the fire, steel, and magic into his poems and verse is the intense yearning this old, old soul has for union with that power. All of life's richness and beauty he sees in Beory's hands, and once, so many years ago, he walked with her in the Vale of Summer Stars and understood what life's end, and the passage of his soul from Oerth, would bring. Yet, the old man has no thought of death and no desire for it. Oerth is still a place with intense beauty, magic, and wonder to the old bard's eyes, and they still shine as brightly as ever they did.
Gwydiesin is above most "political" concerns. He has seen the rise and fall of the Great Kingdom, and the machinations of those working away in its ruins do not concern him. He does not aid the Grandwood or Lone Heath folk by spellcasting or reciting morale boosting declamations prior to battle. The effect he has is far subtler. For days after hearing one of his recitations, the listener feels a sense of heightened energy and perception; colors seem brighter, sounds more pleasing, food and wine taste better, other people seem fairer of face and kinder of expression. That is the bard's gift to the good folk of forest and heath.
Those who come seeking Gwydiesin won't find him. When they come, he will know of it, and he will choose whether to see them. He will choose the time and manner of his appearance. He will know what they wish of him, but that's no guarantee they will go away heartened or informed. The bard makes his own choices.
Gywdiesin is solitary, but in addition to his usual wanderings he meets with a handful of people in the Flanaess. Mordenkainen has eaten and taken wine with the old man, and indeed the two have many things in common, not least their alignment.
The Circle of Eight have heard the bard's recitations; even the introverted, conservative, and repressed Bigby was shaking when the bard fell silent, and Mordenkainen himself was stirred enough not to repeat the experiment. Gwydiesin's power is unsettling to those who are used to power of their own combined with a firm sense of control. Philidor has been seen laughing with the old man and, incredibly enough, light heartedly skipping along paving stones of Greyhawk City with the bard keeping pace. Once, some years ago, Gwydiesin arrived at Nightsong's dark home and took him by the collar when they met; Nightsong was not seen for some months afterward.
And the bard travels the planes, surely, for Lhaeo the Scribe has recorded a couple of visits from someone looking very like the old bard who periodically chats with Elminster.
Other Personalities of the Grandwood and Lone Heath
Carferlen: 7th level fighter/11th level mage (Dex 18, Int 19, Wis 16, Cha 16). AC -3 or better (elven chain mail +5, shield not used, defender bastard sword +4), hp 46, AL NG. Carferlen is nearing his 400th year. He is 6' 4', very slim of build, with long, bony fingers and almond shaped nails which gesture with an effortless grace to emphasize what he says. His hair has streaks of gold and silver among the honeyed curls, and his gray-green eyes are unblinking.
Carferlen has a much wider awareness of the Flanaess's problems than most of his people. He has links with many elves of the lands, including the gray elves of the Tree Lands in the Vesve, and the People of the Testing. His polite, humble manner has endeared him to people such as Kieren Jalucian of Greyhawk and the rulers of Veluna City, where he often travels (and is known to stop over in Mitrik and converse with Bigby). His special concern is the rise of the Scarlet Brotherhood, which he fears more than Iuz or any Aerdy power. For this reason, Carferlen is not an infrequent visitor to powerful nobles of the House of Darmen. He dislikes their evil, of course, but they are the one faction in Aerdy which appears to share this sense of threat, and his enemy's enemy is his friend. Carferlen is very pragmatic.
This old elf is friendly, kindly, and rarely has a harsh word for anyone. He is a simple, good individual, but his brilliant intellect and well informed nature make him outstanding among his people. He does not possess or covet magical items much, although his defender bastard sword +4 is a potent protection, and he also carries a wand of paralyzation.
Fiorena Goldhand: 11th level ranger (Str 16, Dex 16, Con 16, Int 16, Wis 17, Cha 16). AC 3 or 1 (leather armor +4, boots of speed, shield not used), hp 81, AL NG. Fiorena is 36 years old, 6' 1", wiry and lean, brown haired and brown eyed. Even her usual tan doesn't disguise the freckling of her cheeks and arms, and she has an infectious grin. Without any pretensions, she's a natural and open person, part of her Charisma.
Fiorena has a graver, quieter side for all her good humor and especial love of children (though she has never wanted any of her own). She feels the weight of the world on her shoulders; she knows she plays a pivotal role in the defense of the Grandwood and sometimes that's a hard burden to carry. Though she is resilient and resourceful, the friendship and companionship of Auruma is important to her.
Auruma is a young adult gold dragon who almost invariably appears in polymorphed form as a human ranger. He has learned enough from Fiorena to pass muster as a ranger, with knowledge of their signals and secret ways. Auruma comes from Sunndi, and his parents have sent him here to learn more of the ways of humankind far from his home and also to aid the Grandwood folk. A few of the wood elf moonmages know Auruma's real identity, and the dragon is fascinated by their approach to magic and especially by their symbiosis with treants, which are unlike anything he knows from his own home. Fiorena acquired the nickname "Goldhand" for her fondness for wearing gold rings, but there is a second appropriateness to it now which few know.
Marcenn Simraith: 14th level ranger (Dex 17, Con 16, Int 16, Wis 16, Cha 16). AC 3 (ring of protection +3, normal leather armor, no shield), hp 96, AL NG (CG). Marcenn is 35, 5' 11", of medium build, with very tightly curled dark brown hair worn short and brown-hazel eyes. Not by ambition, but simply by acceptance from others, Marcenn has become something of a leader to the Lone Heath rangers and exiles. He simply seems to have the kind of personality and mind which naturally mediates disputes, puts forward practical suggestions, and organizes matters to everyone's best advantage. Puffing at his halfling weed pipe at the campfire, the man has the aura of a leader. People naturally look to him when deciding what to do, where to go, what decisions to take.
However, Marcenn's other great skill is that his suggestions intuitively tell other people that the best thing to do is what they wanted to do anyway. Or, perhaps, by the time he has finished talking the listener is convinced that Marcenn's suggestion is what he wanted to do originally, even if it wasn't. Marcenn is soft spoken, persuasive, a storyteller if he needs to be, and he has a great knowledge of the Heath and its history.
For himself, Marcenn does not know what the future may hold. After all, the Heath's population has greatly increased during and since the wars, and there may be many more newcomers yet. For this reason, he is opposed to precipitate actions or drastic changes. He sees the need to balance raiding the Free Cities for supplies with the need to avoid inviting harsh reprisals. A pragmatist as many lifelong Heathmen are, the ranger waits to see what the future holds. His own natural optimism and generosity mean that he doesn't fear that future.
Marcenn has no permanent companions or followers, but he owns a two person carpet of flying and also winged boots (MC: C) so he knows what has been happening in the Heath. If he must fight, he does so two handed with a short sword of quickness in his dominant left hand and a dagger +3 in the other. He also owns a ring of free action and a 1,000 lb. bag of holding.
Taralene: 16th level priestess of Atroa (Int 15, Wis 18, Cha 17). AC 4 (cloak of displacement, ring of protection +4), hp 88, AL NG. At 51, Taralene has a serene mature beauty. Just a whisker below 6', she has a fine figure, and her auburn hair is thick, wavy and reaches the small of her back. Half the Grandwood folk are in love with her (and the other half is prone to be jealous of that).
The woodlands are her home. While she cares about events in the lands around the forest, and will listen to discussions of what is afoot in Rauxes or Bellport, she does not truly worry herself about them. What is important to her is healing and caring for the animals and peoples of the forest. She knows it as well as any ranger; she has a magical belt which confers on her the ability to walk on water and travel at normal speed over any terrain, passing without trace into the bargain. She also has a better knowledge of the forest's evils than any ranger. She keeps a careful watch on Spikerift in particular.
As a priestess of Atroa, the spheres allowed to Taralene are: All, Animal, Charm*, Creation, Divination*, Elemental* (except Air, to which major access is allowed, and Fire, to which she has no access), Guardian, Healing, Necromantic (curative only), Plant, Protection, Sun*, Travelers*, Wards, Weather. As a lesser power, Atroa cannot grant 7th level spells to priests.
Click for the [ Previous | Next | Home Page | Site List ]
Want to join the ring? Click here for Info