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.

The only significant Sea Trade Route runs from Corwell/Moray to Calimshan. The cargos are not items typicical of Calimshan as the Ffolk regard their florid cloth and flamboyant designs are thought of as being "unmanly" and for the women as being "to obvious". Thus, most of the trade goods are tools, weapons (none native to Calimshan), and a few delicacies; mostly pickled fish and jellied beef.

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. The other Inns are not worthy of mention as they cater to the common seaman and are more than a little seamy.

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 someDuring 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.

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.

Of course, you will be able to tell the King about the place and confirm his fears that the lich "festers in my kindom like a boil waiting to spill its poisons into the body of the Land".