Lone Heath

A mix of marshland and scrub near the eastern edge of the Adri Forest that has long been a sanctuary for outlaws and renegades from Aerdy's tyrants.

The Lone Heath is a mix of marshland and scrub near the eastern edge of the Adri Forest. It has long been a sanctuary for outlaws and good nonhumans from Aerdy's tyrants, though Ountsy claims it now. Rangers and druids allied with the free folk of the Grandwood ward the place. Evil beings generally avoid this land, a reverse of the usual situation, though glowing lights have lately been seen that appear to be malign in nature.

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 camoflage, 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 camoflage 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.

Inhabitants of the Lone Heath

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 ornamental decoration. 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 up to a dozen mastiffs. 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. 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. They have superb senses and unparalleled darkvision 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 in 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 than 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 of the Lone Heath

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.

Free Cities of the Solnor Compact

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Type

Wetland / Swamp

 Location in the Flanaess