The Plain of Towers

Summary/Information

The central feature of this Shadow is an immense rolling grassland, bordered by ocean to the East, an immense mountain range to the North, and deep impenetrable forests to the South and West. Gigantic herds of millions of bison roam the Plain, followed by nomadic tribes of horseman. The Tribes are divided into Clans, each Clan being named after a particular animal, which it regards as sacred. Clans are led by Chieftains, who are advised by Shamans.

Earth-walled villages dot the plain, surrounded by cultivated farmlands and herds of cattle or sheep. Each village is governed by a Council, and led by a Magistrate. One or two wisewomen and/or hedgemages usually live somewhere on the outskirts of the village, using their meager powers for good or ill.

But true power in the Plain of Towers lies within those Towers, which are separated by vast distances, often 100 miles or more between Towers. Each Tower is ruled by a Lord or Lady, some of whom dwell in isolation, some with apprentices or small families, and others with hundreds of retainers or soldiers. Tower Lords might be such beings as wizards, vampires, mighty warlords, or even demons or godlings. Something about the nature of a Tower Lord can usually be deduced from the surrounding countryside. The Tower of a beneficent wizard might be surrounded by prosperous villages with amazingly fertile farmlands, protective beasts such as gigantic golden lions, and fields of flowers that sing beautiful songs at sunrise and dusk. The Tower of a conquering warlord would be surrounded by walled villages watched over by armored soldiers, officious functionaries demanding to know the business of travelers, and the bodies of executed prisoners hanging from trees. And the Tower of a family of werewolves would most likely have few villages around it, and those that did live near it would lock themselves into their houses at night, with silver-barred shutters over the windows.

Heroes wander the Plain of Towers, fighting monsters, performing quests for Tower Lords, or defending villagers or nomads against evil Tower Lords. Such Heroes are usually warriors, although very occasionally an apprentice wizard or a hedgemage grown eager for adventure might take up the life. They are regarded with an equal mixture of awe and distrust by the inhabitants of the Plain.

Two other intelligent races inhabit this Shadow, and while they are not frequently encountered upon the Plain they will sometimes visit with a Tower Lord, or travel into the Plain near their respective realms for reasons of their own. These are the Dvarten of the Dragonback Mountains, a short, powerfully built race who mine the mountains and are known for their sharp axes and short tempers, and the Alfen of the Great Forest, a tall beautiful people rumored to be immortal and well-versed in art, song, and magic.

Did you see her? They call her Black Raven Calls, she's from one of the nomad tribes. A Hero, that's clear. Did you see that sword she carries? Dvarten-forged, that is. You can tell by the way it shines like a rainbow when the sun hits it. They say she's here to put an end to Lord Flameheart. It's a pity, she's so beautiful, and I can't believe she'll succeed where so many have failed before. The Council should forbid it, that's what I think. You know his Lordship just gets mad when these Heroes go up there and try to kill him. Last time wasn't so bad, he just burned some fields, but the time before that he sent that troll of his down here and it killed five or six people before it was done. It's a bad business. What? No, I'm not going to try to stop her, I just think someone should, that's all I'm saying. We've got to think of ourselves, after all. What with Heroes stirring his Lordship up, and that young Lord looking to avenge his father by raiding our fields, as though Lord Flameheart cared what happened to us, it's always the same. They fight and we suffer. That's all I'm saying.

Gather round, lads, and I'll tell you of my trip to the great village of Oakheart. It was back, oh, must be 20 years ago now. I was near as young as you lads, though not quite. Never been more than 5 miles away from home, just like you. But Lord Irongrip, he decided he wanted some Alfen bows for his war against the wizard, Lord Flameheart, those magical ones they make that shoot further and more accurately than any human ones. Well, I was one of the lads picked to drive the wagons. Quite a trip it was, quite a trip. Oakheart is near 200 miles away, you know. Imagine that! More than a month to get there! Makes me thirsty just remembering it....

Ah, thanks, lad. Very kind of you. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the trip to Oakheart. Well, it started out exciting enough, everyone gathered around to wish us goodspeed, my mother crying 'cause she was sure I was going to be killed out there in the wilds away from home, Lord Irongrip shouting and cursing 'cause we weren't moving fast enough for him. No one ever could please him, rest his soul in peace and keep it away from here, eh? Anyway, the first day or two was exciting enough, being places I'd never seen, away from everything that was familiar. But you know, there's a dull sameness to the Plains, and quicker than you'd think it all becomes routine. Get up in the morning, break camp, drive the wagons, water the horses at a stream, keep driving, make camp, go to sleep. Get up and do it all over again. That you're doing it 100 miles away from home doesn't make it any more exciting, hard as that may be for you youngling to believe.

Oh, we did have excitement from time to time. One day just before sunset there was all of a sudden a dozen or so nomads up on a hill watching us. That gave me a turn, I tell you. Oh, I know. You'll say that's nothing, you've seen nomads here in Greenmeadow, but a dozen all at once? And this was out in the open, mind, not safe in town. No telling how many more of them there was. Anyway, the Lord took about a dozen of him men and rode up to talk to them. Turns out they were Graywolf Clan, fierce fighters but honorable, and not ones to go looking for trouble. They just wanted to know who we were and what we were about. Lord Irongrip told them, he was never shy about telling folk about how much he hated Flameheart, you know. His son is just the same, plus wants vengeance for the old man's death as well. Well, the next day we saw why them Graywolfs was there. Heard it before we saw it, really. Sounded like thunder off in the distance, getting louder and louder, and then suddenly we come over a ridge and there they were, bison as far as they eye could see. We had to wait two more days before they all passed, that's a fact. And the Graywolfs riding alongside them, just as calm as you please. It's a sight I'll never forget.

After that things were pretty dull. We went by a Tower off in the distance, never did find out who it belonged to. Lord Irongrip just looked at it and shook his head, and hurried us all along faster. After that I didn't want to know who, or what, lived there. And then one day we came to Oakheart. You've never seen such a place. Must be at least three dozen buildings. No, I'm not lying, you just keep a civil tongue in your head. That many, at least. And more people than you've ever seen in your life. Over a thousand, I'm certain. Yes, it is hard to believe, isn't it. But true, I swear it. And there were Alfen there, too, lads, walking among the humans. What do they look like? Oh, now that's a story, isn't it? And one I'll tell you, lads.

But not now. I've got business to attend to, and you should have, too. Off with you, and if you're good I'll finish the tale soon.