Notes on 509 In the Moonshae Isles

Occupying the southern half of the island of Gwynneth, Corwell is the oldest kingdom of the Ffolk upon the Moonshaes. The island of Gwynneth was the first to be settled by humans, although its population fell behind that of the more hospitable island of Alaron.

The kingdom was founded by the greatest hero of the Ffolk, Cymrych Hugh, before that ruler became High King and moved his seat of government to Callidyrr. Now Corwell is the secondlargest realm of the Ffolk, after Callidyrr.

Corwell is ruled by King Bryon Kendrick from his great hall in Caer Corwell. The king exerts little real control over the land, however, preferring to leave details in the hands of the cantrev lords. Because of the relatively sparse population of the land, there is plenty of room for all of the cantrevs, and thus they do not suffer from the petty internal bickering that seems so common on Alaron.

The island of Gwynneth has been held by the druids to lie closest to the heart of the goddess. Moonwells are more common here than on any of the other islands, and the clerics of the new gods have made few inroads into the traditional goddess-worship of the people.

Corwell is bounded to the north by the sacred wilderness of Myrloch Vale. The Ffolk have displayed no ambitions to expand into the area, and the druids constantly expound upon the sacred nature of the place. Humans rarely enter the Vale, as there is little of material worth to be found there.

The southern coast of Corwell is exceptionally rugged and rocky. Sheer cliffs line much of the shore, so even where sheltering promontories keep the waters placid, there are few sites that make decent ports.

Add to this the fact that the landward side of the coast is blanketed in the thick woods of Llyrath Forest, and the southern coast of Corwell becomes virtually inaccessible. This makes it an ideal hiding place for the occasional pirate ship that strays westward from the pirate isles. These ships, and the occasional band of castaways, make this coast the most dangerous part of the kingdom.

Caer Corwell itself stands at the terminus of Corwell Firth, one of the finest natural harbors in the islands. The city of Corwell is actually more of a town centered around the docks and storage buildings of the harbor. Because of its more remote location, Corwell receives far fewer visitors from other realms than does Callidyrr.

A few trading vessels call at Corwell harbor each year, but the kingdom does not maintain a steady commerce with any lands except the other kingdoms of the Ffolk in the Moonshaes. This has allowed the culture of the Ffolk of Corwell to remain relatively pure, a status that the druids strive diligently to maintain.

The area around the town is smoothly rolling moor, barren of trees, so the predominant feature of Corwell is visible for many miles in all directions. This is Caer Corwell, a sturdy castle that has been built atop a rocky promontory that rises several hundred feet above the town itself. The fortress of Caer Corwell was visible for most of that day™s journey. As we drew closer, I could make out details of the great hall and the surrounding palisade. The fortress™s location, atop a steep knoll, seemed to be naturally formed for defense. The improvements wrought by the Ffolk made the place virtually impregnable.

The road winding up to the castle was steep and passed under the palisade wall for much of its length. Thus attackers would be subjected to a nearly constant stream of oil and arrows should they try for an assault against the gatehouse. And the sides of the knoll were so steep that no other approach seemed even vaguely feasible.

Sea Trade Route - Corwell/Moray to Calimshan

Caer Corwell is nowhere near as grand as Caer Callidyrr, but it has proven a sturdy redoubt in times of trouble. The castle consists of a great central hall, adjoining barracks, stables and other outbuildings, and a wide courtyard, all surrounded by a timber palisade. The only easy access is along the castle road, which winds up the side of the knoll, totally exposed to fire from the walls and gatehouse of the castle.

Thus the weakness of the timber palisade has been balanced by the difficulties of the castle™s approaches. Like Caer Callidyrr, Caer Corwell has never fallen to an invader.

The inns, as always, were fine. The Boar™s Tusk, run by a grizzled old huntsman named Garek, had a solidly male clientele, and the conversation was earthy. The Red Stag, on the other hand, was a quieter place with softspoken barmaids and savory food. It was run by a stout matron named Miriam, whom I recalled from Waterdeep. There she worked in an establishment of a somewhat more ribald nature; she seemed to enjoy the more pastoral life of Corwell.

Of particular fascination was the local druid grove and Moonwell, which lie near the castle, across a large commons field from the town. The massive oak trees marking the grove stood in a nearly symmetrical ring, although they had sprouted naturally there. Within the grove, a leafy canopy shaded the ground, but the widely spaced trunks allowed a pleasant breeze to whisper through. A soft cushion of grass layered the ground, and subtle shades of columbine brightened the shadows. In several places I noticed huge stone arches, moss-covered and obviously very ancient.

In the center of the grove was a pool of still water, nearly clear, but clouded by a faint, milky tint. During the audience, we were interthing powerful and sacred here and then realized that I must be looking at rupted by the king™s young son and the one of the Moonwells. I could almost feel the nearness of the earth goddess king™s wardŠa striking, dark-haired worshiped by these Ffolk; certainly, I knew why they held her in such reverlass who stared at me so boldly that I ence.

had to smile. The king treated them Finally I was able to meet with the king. I found King Kendrick to be a young man, obviously a former warbrusquely, in a manner that struck me rior, who carried his few years heavily.

Wrinkles creased his face, and gray as unusual after observing the usual streaks ran through his hair. His manner was listless, albeit polite.

The castle of skulls is hard to find since it is overgrown with weeds and also lies in the heart of a stagnant fen at the southern fringes of Llyrath Forest.

Choose the items so that they do not unbalance your campaign, but every character who makes it this far should find something worthwhile. The castle of skulls is hard to find since it is overgrown with weeds and also lies in the heart of a stagnant fen at the southern fringes of Llyrath Forest".

"Lord Koart tells of an ancient fortress in the depths of Llyrath Forest that has been long abandoned. It is a castle made of skulls, erected some time after the reign of Cymrych Hugh to commemorate a great victory over the northmen. In those days (and still, as evidenced by the episode with the firbolgs) the Ffolk would take the heads of those who had fallen in war. In time, enough enemy skulls had been gathered that the High King, Gwylloch, had them raised into a mighty pile on the south coast of Corwell. So taken was he with the proof of his enemies™ downfall that Gwylloch moved his court into the castle of skulls. He led expeditions against the lands of the northmen, or against the holdings of recalcitrant lords, in order to add skulls to his collection. But the place reeked so heavily of death that he slowly went mad, as did all of the retainers and courtesans who attended him. At the last, gibbering and drooling, they destroyed themselves in a suicidal orgy of combat within the gruesome walls.

Lord Koart claims that the castle of skulls still stands somewhere along the rugged southern coast of the island, guarded by the spirits of those who died there (and perhaps by darker things as well). Of course, no one alive can verify the existence of the place, but all hold the tale to be truth.

While Tamara was spying on the castle, the lich has been preparing for a battle. He is afraid that the 509 will follow him. However, he doesn't know that they have flying ship, so the lich is planing on their arrival no sooner than mid-spring. The fact they will arrive in the winter is the best ally of the 509.

He has offered big money to the pirates to provide him with slaves which of course he kills to allow him to control them.
He has been populating the area around with fell creatures.


Additional Notes.
Moorhounds are huge dogs as big as a full gown shetland pony. They are light brown and have slender legs for their size. They are not naturally warlike and can be trained either as a guard dor or as a family protector.

The waters inside the firth of Caldwell are mostly quiet as they are proteceted from 3 sides.
In the center of the commonfield in the center of the village at the foot of the prominance is the revered Druids Grove.
Druids don't like merchants from lands outside of the Isles. "Untrustworthy and disrespectful of the Land".
The 2nd level nobles (after the kings) are the Contrev.
Some cantrev names are O'Mally, Blackstone, McDonnell, Llewellyn,  Horstall, Koart, Kingfish

lin raids are not uncommon, and each cantrev keeps a ready militia of 2d4 x 100 1st-level fighters ready to pick up arms in defense.
All of the cantrevs can muster a small militia, generally 200-500 1st-level fighters, with about 25% bearing long bows, and 15% mounted on horses. The army of the High King, and all of the militias from the southern half of the kingdom, is also equipped with a few battle chariots.
Each cantrev in the kingdom can muster a militia force of 40-100 1st-level fighters commanded by a sergeant of 2d-5th level. The cantrev lords are fighters of 5th to 10th level. Most of these men are swordsmen, but about 20% are skilled with the long bow as well.
Caer Corwell maintains a garrison of 200 men-at-arms, 10 of which are sergeants of 2d-5th level. The garrison commander is Arlen, a  9th-level fighter.

From the harbor of Caer Corwell, the fort stands high on a gnoll with only a winding, railless path leading to the stone entrance to the citidel. There is a wooden pallisade that runs around the edges of the knoll and allows no footing on the other side of it. Three towers rise above the walls coming from the keep mostly hidden from sight behind the wooden wall.

From the highest tower flys the flag of the Kenfdriks; a black flag with a rampant bear done in silver.

There are no significant numbers of Elves other than the Llewyrr who spring from high elves. The other races are also very limited in number and having onloy the standard variations of races.

King Byron Kendrik rules

The fortress of Caer Corwell was visible for most of that day™s journey. As we drew closer, I could make out details of the great hall and the surrounding palisade. The fortress™s location, atop a steep knoll, seemed to be naturally formed for defense. The improvements
wrought by the Ffolk made the place virtually impregnable. The road winding up to the castle was steep and passed under the palisade wall for much of its length. Thus attack ers would be subjected to a nearly constant stream of oil and arrows should they try for an assault against the gatehouse. And the sides of the knoll were so steep that no other approach seemed even vaguely feasible.

The inns, as always, were fine. The Boar™s Tusk, run by a grizzled old huntsman named Garek, had a solidly male clientele, and the conversation was earthy. The Red Stag, on the other hand, was a quieter place with soft spoken barmaids and savory food. It was run by a stout matron named Miriam, whom I recalled from Waterdeep. There she worked in an establishment of a somewhat more ribald nature; she seemed to enjoy the more pastoral life of Corwell.

Of particular fascination was the local druid grove and Moonwell, which lie near the castle, across a large commons field from the town. The massive oak trees marking the grove stood in a nearly symmetrical ring, although they had sprouted naturally there. Within the grove, a leafy canopy shaded the ground, but the widely spaced trunks allowed a pleasant breeze to whisper through. A soft cushion of grass layered the ground, and subtle shades of columbine brightened the shadows. In several places I noticed huge stone arches, moss-covered  and obviously very ancient. In the center of the grove was a pool of still water, nearly clear, but clouded  by a faint, milky tint. I sensed something powerful and sacred here and then realized that I must be looking at one of the Moonwells. I could almost feel the nearness of the earth goddess worshiped by these Ffolk; certainly, I knew why they held her in such reverence.