The Matters Three: of the Oura, Midlands, and Crownlands

Elsewhere besides the great wing-lands are the Oura, the Midlands, and the Crownlands. These regions which rest atop the coiled tail, body, and head of the Rainbow-dragon Avaloros are home to several unique folk and cultures. The Oura   Journeys to the Mountain Oasis seeking parley with its copper-toned draconic guardian must be well designed for the very land is like a treacherous sea that sunders whole fleets in its fury. A stout party could win passage across the razor-grass that is the Thymos Savannah, over the Oura hills, themselves hardly an obstacle, then across the grinding sands of the Omilchi, which is a blasted place despite its distance from Phoenix’s daily path. Alas the final mountain itself must be ascended and the cunning death-traps of the Sun Elves avoided. All other routes to this place of reward are fought with greater perils in deadly mushroom forests cultivated by the Swamp Elves or lumbering protectors of trees enchanted by the Wood Elves.   The Eflaen, or Elven Triumvirate, have long resided among the coils of the Oura. The land is well cultivated, and resources are plentiful to those with the knowledge of such an ecologically linked system of mutual defense. While the manner and mind of the elven folk may seem strange to outsiders, they have won the favor of the nymphs and this fact brings ease to the hearts of many. Occasionally an elf brave is seen out in the wider world on some spirit-driven quest and there are stories of curious folk who overstep the patience of these often-stoic warriors far from their homelands.   More so than anywhere else on Avaloros, the empty leagues of the Ouran peninsula often come alive with the sounds of great drums, beating out messages to and fro among the Eflaen. And in the towns and villages drumming is heard at many times throughout the day and night and many types of drums are used for their many purposes. Beats drummed on shaped stone and taught leather shape the daily life of the elf-folk and any among that fair folk would claim-tell of the healing properties that drumming have on the troubled mind.   The Midlands   There are many passes, be they perilous or no, through the towering Apelpesians that bisect Avaloros, yet there is but one that lies along the Great Road. Passing west between the dark columns of the Grand Amphitheater, once a place of terror and conquest and now a place of meet and unity, the traveler arrives in a wide dale-land snaked by the river Quikfoot. You are near the good folk of Morton’s Abbey who are friends of those oft-troubled folk to the south beyond within the murky Drennor Vale. Continue west for by this road you may arrive at your designation in safety and the traveler may avoid the high plateau that is the White Wastes, and wasted land it is for the cold is such as to be unbearable to good folk. Turn north now and pass along the Halcyon Coast and mark the small and pleasant folk who fish the glimmering sea there. Follow the path north and over rolling hills to come to Bardford, the bustling crossroad town of the Halfling King. Here the Great Road ends, and you must seek the aid of the Dwarves of Cortwall to pass the Northgate of the Grey Heights.   The roads and quays of the Midlands serve the folk of this region well, for they are far-famed travelers and traders and well-versed in both horse and wagon and sail and vessel. However, it is known that trade sanctions stand against the war-loving kingdom of Middlesbrough with their capitol at the mouth of the Drennor Vale. The common wisdom is that some unknown trauma in the history of that folk pricks them to keep traditions of strong warriors in order to protect their realm from future threats unknown.   Perhaps the Tree of Violence holds the secret to the strong warrior culture of the Drennor-folk. On a barren island beyond the mouth of the river Alero, which spills from the Drennor Vale, is a peculiar black barked tree said to contain the wrathful spirit of Kharneth, the Blood-lord. In ages past, the Herald of Shadow spread ruin among the folk until a great host of folk-allies and a legendary party of heroes contained Kharneth’s evil presence to a single cursed prison. Ever since that time, careful astronomers in the hills above Middlesbrough have tracked the cycles of the stars in preparation for the foretold failure of that heavy prison.   The Crownlands   In thy bid to approach the Temple of the Oracle, first you must pass through the Rainbow Marsh and above the canyon of Little Cliffs ere arrive ye at that holy mountain. Rare plants and birds and resting nymphs dwell here, beware and fare not where the ground is untrod for thou may disturb the dwelling place of the most peaceful of all living things.   Nymphs travel from their settlement of Ah-ha’ Kwe-ah-mac’ “water beyond” behind the Temple of the Oracle to the coast along a gentle creek gathering acorns and sage-seed for meal, and clay and shells for adornment, and many herbs useful in medicine. Pilgrims are welcome in this land though know you the Law of Residence for the nymphs enforce that outsiders may reside in that holy land for not more than one cycle of the Great Tapestry of Seira.   A huge white rock on the coastal side of the holy mountain is called Ah Kewer-rup’ “disease cure”. It looks as if it might have been sprinkled with blood, for it is flecked with spots of bright red, and a sharp cleft divides it in twain. Wonderful and miraculous are the cures said to be performed there, but rumors that it has lost its power has cast doubt of hope. However, it is said that even now if you get near enough to fling a stone against the big rock, it sings or cheeps like a young birdling; and the nymphs still hold it in reverence.