A single vast moor surrounds Lake Lias, stretching to the boggy Eshirwood to the east. Here, wariness and ruggedness breed a sturdy lot, a county of quietly determined folk all too aware that fortunes in blood and backbreaking toil often buy rewards no greater than continued hardship and a swift death. The land of Canterwall—once known as Tamrivena— has no love for its people, even though generations of stalwart Ustalavs have poured their lives into the land, only to fall under the wicked blades of Belkzen orcs or be mysterious consumed, seemingly by the misty moors themselves.
In the fears of Ustalav, invasion has always come from the west. While humans and beasts certainly threaten the nation’s other borders, these threats unite in the orcs of Belkzen, whose realm of cruelty and slaughter sprawls just beyond Canterwall’s threshold. Since the nation’s founding, the counts of the region have attempted a diverse array of tactics to guard the western lands against the savage hordes. The ruins of dozens of fortresses and watchtowers—some built mere yards apart—mark the Belkzen border and testify to the efficacy of past defenders. The history of Ustalav’s defense is a tale of tragedy and madness, with moments of calamity punctuated by epics of disaster—none greater than the deceit and dark promises that unleashed the dragongeneral Kazavon upon the world. Yet today, Canterwall no longer stands alone against the brutality of the west. The people of Lastwall now share in shouldering the burden of Belkzen’s slaughter, a grim blessing that has greatly reduced threats to Ustalavic lands. Only the foolhardy rest unwarily in Canterwall, though, for the madness of orc-kind knows no respect for borders or reason, and more than beastmen raiders hunt the fields of the ancient land.
Canterwall is a fertile region, watered by the Vistear River and checkered by fields and farms. While wolves and foxes endlessly torment farmers, the land’s greatest annoyances come on black wings—vast f locks of obstinate ravens, seasonally swarming locusts, cicadas, and earwigs wreaking arbitrary destruction. A balance between lightly wooded plains and bleak moors covers the region, all cloaked by dense fog that rolls into the lowlands from the southern mountains. Locals spread a host of warnings and superstitions about these mists, some old folks refusing to venture outdoors in fog without a symbol of Pharasma to keep at bay the spirits lost within, while others swear whole towns sometimes go missing in the mists, losing their connection to the world and vanishing forever in the haze.
Under the rule of the region’s Palatine Council, the people of Canterwall largely fend for themselves. With few members of the country’s nobility remaining in the rustic region, fiefdoms have given way to agricultural hamlets and townships To the east lie quiet islands in the fog, where simple, Pharasma-fearing folk live modestly off of bland food and hard work. To the west, the same can be said, but here the peals of yard bells signal danger, not meals, and the fire-scarred remnants of homesteads confirm the deadly presence of monsters lurking in the night.
Notable Locations
Numerous sites stand out across Canterwall, famed for their resolution or notorious for grim histories.
Bleakwall: The remnants of ages of war and destruction, an uneven wall of stones and fallen fortresses spans the roughly 90-mile border between Ustalav and Belkzen. Formed from the scattered barricades and bulwarks of felled fortresses, the expanse is a wall in name only, generally rising no more than 2 to 4 feet high and sometimes breaking for spans of a quarter-mile or more. While a scattered number of surviving turrets still occasionally serve as watch posts for the county’s militia, only the brooding ruins of Tower Valballus and Castle Andachi bear enough of their original architecture to be identifiable as the citadels they once were. Even these fastnesses are shunned, though, as tales tell of creatures worse than orcs lurking amid the shattered stones.
Clover’s Crossing: It began with a shudder the whole village felt, an unprecedented but soon forgotten tremor. A week later, a sinkhole swallowed the church house during ceremonies, killing the town’s priest and most devout residents. Soon after, screams filled the night, and the paths of dragged bodies led to the churchyard, where every grave bore either the mark of morbid subsidence, or yawned open, transformed into gateways into a chthonic nightmare. None can say when the ghouls came or how many lurk beneath Clover’s Crossing, but what was once a peaceful refuge of the living is now a den of the dead.
Marian Leigh: Women outnumber men 10 to 1 in the lavender-festooned town of Marian Leigh. Grown around the lush garden estate of Lady Urora Demerrval, a dowager who’s survived nine husbands, the community prides itself on being one of the most pleasant in the country, largely due to its homogenous population. While men are not forbidden in Marian Leigh, more than one passing lothario or quicktongued chauvinist has disappeared amid the community’s garden mazes and greenhouses.
Ravengro: Flourishing while dozens of similar communities have died and rotted away around it, the quaint village of Ravengro stands as a testament to the persistence and determination of Canterwall’s people. Nearby squats the ruins of Harrowstone prison, a penitentiary where guards and prisoners alike were consumed in an uprising’s flames, and tales say none rest quietly.
The Saffron House: Something worse than ghosts lurks within the suppurating skin of the Saffron House.
Tamrivena: Suspicion and distrust flourish in the fortress city of Tamrivena.
The Palatine Council of Canterwall
From the county seat at Tamrivena, the nine members of Canterwall’s ruling council oversee their homeland’s administration. Well aware that several lands depend on their county’s f ields for survival, and that the nation’s brusque prince might react forcefully to any suspicion of deceit or extortion, the council goes to great length to reinforce the region’s reputation as a realm of undemanding, hardworking, and essential laborers. While such proves generally true, the administrators keep a tight guard on the land’s ample purse, fearing the jealously of neighboring nobles. Only toward the cause of defending the county are signif icant expenditures indulged, with regional militia being well rewarded and outf itted, especially those who guard the walls of Tamrivena.
Of the council’s members, river captain Charidian Vanx, landowner Taladda Jhovanki, and reluctant representative Zoenessa Thell agitate most f iercely for their particular agendas—those being national inf luence, regional security, and simple fairness, respectively. Aside from administering county policies and arbitrating signif icant disputes, the relatively effectual Palatine Council of Canterwall hears reports from both wings of their divided county militia: the Foreguard, who stand guard over the county’s borders under the commanded of the wary veteran Captain Daladmin Quin; and the Wallguard, who protect Tamrivena as directed by the paranoid Captain Balton Rhasrakin. Although both men have proven themselves able leaders, the council’s patience wears thin with the aging Captain Quin, who can offer no reason for a rash of disappearances of villagers and whole villages along the southern border. While such delights the competitive and arrogant Captain Rhasrakin, it also fuels his delusions of lurking conspiracies and lends credence to his fear-mongering among his men (and privately to several council members).
Noteworthy Personages
In a land as insular as Canterwall, the people listen to those who appeal to their hearts or inf lame their fears, and the individuals below are infamous for their abilities to grab and hold the hearts of their countrymen, for better or for worse.
Doctor Emrer Evets: A quicktongued former cleric of Pharasma turned wandering snake-oil salesman, the “doctor” has visited—and been chased out of—nearly every hamlet and township in Canterwall. In recent months Evets has grown skittish, telling tales of empty fields where once were towns, and of howls in the night pursuing his wagon. Few pay the con artist any heed, though, as his reputation for elaborate deceptions far precedes him.
Captain Balton Rhasrakin: When orcs razed the village of Adarac, 15 miles from the western border, young Balton and eight other half-dead children were taken as captives—food and entertainment for the journey back into Belkzen. By fortune alone did Lastwall knights intercept the savages and free their victims, but although Balton survived, three horrif ic days as an orc slave left everlasting scar upon his body and mind. Now serving as commander of Tamrivena’s Wallgard, Rhasrakin harbors a burning racism against orcs and their kin, and endlessly drills his men in preparation for war. Although he believes that hordes of Belkzen savages might swarm over the Tusk Mountains at any moment, in his fantasies he dreams of raising a true army to eradicate the orcs once and for all.
Zoenessa Thell: Raised in Bladswell, a hamlet on the edge of the Eshirwood, Zoenessa expected to live as her parents do, keeping the family farm and local inn. That changed when a voice called to her from the shadows of the forest, a soothing coo as from mother to child. Frightened, she abruptly went to visit her uncle, a constable in Tamrivena, and never returned. In Tamrivena, she developed a strict sense of justice and discovered her family’s talent for reading omens amid Harrow cards, traits which have served her well. Through her 34 years, Zoenessa has traveled far and learned much, aiding in investigations from Magnimar to Kerse, her analytical mind and keen judgment assisted by her well-used cards. Residing in Tamrivena still and—at their invitation—taking a place upon the county council, Zoenessa endeavors to aid those she can. Yet in the night sometimes she hears an eerie cooing, and knows the voice from her youth has found her again.
