Miscellanious Local Lore & Landmarks
For the City of Garren's MIll
The Wailing Gate
The cemetery in Garren's Mill is a place of rest and interment for the city's dead, but it carries its share of tales like any such place. The most persistent of these is about the 'Wailing Gate', which is how the locals refer to the officially named 'Cemetery Gate' that leads out through the city wall from the graveyard proper. Some folk take a perverse pleasure in telling out-of-towners how it gets its name from those unfortunates who get buried without being fully proper dead, wake up in darkness and manage to claw their way up through the earth. "Oh, how they wail as their broken minds and hands just keep clawing at the walls and that gate, trying to escape their torment. If you doubt it, go look at the gate if ye be brave enough, to see the scratches they leave on it." Others claim to hear wailing on some nights, as if fit to wake the dead, and make quite a point of only finding an empty, serene cemetery on investigation. Some more erudite observers say this is a result of how the wall and the gate catch the wind on certain occasions, creating this supposed 'wailing' sound that haunts those overly fond of drink or weak of mind. Whatever the case, there are a few fact: the Wailing Gate itself is indeed covered in what could be taken to be scratches of some kind on the inside though it seems age has worn them; that a study of the local history shows the cemetery grounds and the Gate are as old as the City and that the current wall was built up around them as the City grew; that the same histories show the original purpose of the site was for the mass burial of unidentified dead from a major clash between the humans and non-humans many years ago; lastly, reports of 'unquiet' dead pepper these histories sporadically though most entires are vague and unclear at best. Whatever the truth may be, the wailing at the Wailing Gate and its legend refuses to rest peacefully.
The Waiting Wives
Scattered near the gates of Garren's Mill stand a pile of boulders, too large and obstinate to be either moved or easily broken down, that have come to be known as 'The Waiting Wives' due to the practice of suspicious married or betrothed women climbing atop them to better see the road, and catch their spouses or grooms-to-be trying to furtively reenter the City. The excuses range from somewhat reasonable, "going to hear the news at the Inn," to the blatantly obvious, "need to plough the fields," in the way that such things do, but the Waiting Wives have become a staple reference in the local culture for a broad range of mistakes, incidents, comparisons and complaints: "The beds there are as cold and hard as the Waiting Wives!", "Everytime I step out of the house these days she glares at me like I was caught at the Waiting Wives.", "That lot is more suspicious than the Waiting Wives, I tell ya.", and so forth. Of course infidelity isn't unique to one side but as yet the menfolk have not managed to duplicate as universally recognized a landmark in place and language as their better halves, though what meaning can be found in that is open to interpretation.
For the Town of Old Oak and Surrounding Lands
The Tree Beast
In the Greenmist Swamp bordering the north end of Old Oak lives a strange and hideous creature, or at least so certain locals will tell you. This particular mysterious monster, dubbed the Tree Beast with typical simplistic efficiency, is the bane of good sense and the guardian of the gates to the Brokilon beyond the swamp to those who see it. Every right-thinking villager knows that daring the Greenmist is dangerous due to the watchfulness and keen archery skills of the Dryads, as can be seen by the many arrows left as warnings all along its length, but now and then the Tree Beast will rear its snake-like, twisted head and nearly frighten some poor soul to death. The Tree Beast makes its lair between two white pines that only serve to exaggerate its eerily distorted shape, its outstretched many-jointed limbs and curling feelers. Most Tree Beast sightings occur in certain conditions, when the mist is particularly thick but moving, there is enough light to gleam wetly on the Beast's hide, and enough drink or suggestive tales influencing the viewer, that sudden late night shouts of "Monster in the swamp!" will ring out. In truth the Tree Beast is only a particularly odd-looking dead tree, slowly being reclaimed by the swamp and the locals know this, though they still fall prey to the 'sightings' often enough that its a part of local history. The Dryads, for their part, find the existence of this story quite humorous and typical of humans, however the eldest of them may remember that long ago a snake-like monster was actually felled by the sacrifice of two heroes in roughly the same spot where the 'Tree Beast' and the pair of white pines are today.
For the General Area
The Tumble
In the southern end of the valley, near the watchtower garrison, resides a rocky promontory high enough to jut out above the trees and shadow the road that passes along its eastern side. This large hill is considered to have the best view of the surrounding lands due to its height, though it is also the most exposed to weather which has led to its old stones being given to suddenly giving way to rockfalls that can entirely block the road below. It is also known for how many names and related stories it has, being the Youthful Tumble, the Lovers Tumble, the Tragic Tumble, and on and on in such a pattern, so that most simply shorten it to 'the Tumble' when not telling a tale of it. In something of a competitive fashion the Valley locals all seem to have their own version of a Tumble story, though many are based on well-worn yarns about youthful lovers tumbling tragically to their demise, a lovelorn suicide, a jealous spouse's revenge seeing some number of those involved going for a tumble, and on in that vein. If one were to judge by Tumble stories alone, more people would have died on the Tumble than have probably actually lived in the valley itself, yet that doesn't deter each generation from adding its embellishments to the evergrowing skein of tales belonging to it. Perhaps drawn by the stories, or the rumors of a view that is worth dying for, or the acclaim of having tumbled on the Tumble, certain adventurous souls do indeed climb the rocky hill and sometimes, inevitably, help fuel new stories as the dangers in doing so are quite real.
For the City of Garren's MIll
The Wailing Gate
The cemetery in Garren's Mill is a place of rest and interment for the city's dead, but it carries its share of tales like any such place. The most persistent of these is about the 'Wailing Gate', which is how the locals refer to the officially named 'Cemetery Gate' that leads out through the city wall from the graveyard proper. Some folk take a perverse pleasure in telling out-of-towners how it gets its name from those unfortunates who get buried without being fully proper dead, wake up in darkness and manage to claw their way up through the earth. "Oh, how they wail as their broken minds and hands just keep clawing at the walls and that gate, trying to escape their torment. If you doubt it, go look at the gate if ye be brave enough, to see the scratches they leave on it." Others claim to hear wailing on some nights, as if fit to wake the dead, and make quite a point of only finding an empty, serene cemetery on investigation. Some more erudite observers say this is a result of how the wall and the gate catch the wind on certain occasions, creating this supposed 'wailing' sound that haunts those overly fond of drink or weak of mind. Whatever the case, there are a few fact: the Wailing Gate itself is indeed covered in what could be taken to be scratches of some kind on the inside though it seems age has worn them; that a study of the local history shows the cemetery grounds and the Gate are as old as the City and that the current wall was built up around them as the City grew; that the same histories show the original purpose of the site was for the mass burial of unidentified dead from a major clash between the humans and non-humans many years ago; lastly, reports of 'unquiet' dead pepper these histories sporadically though most entires are vague and unclear at best. Whatever the truth may be, the wailing at the Wailing Gate and its legend refuses to rest peacefully.
The Waiting Wives
Scattered near the gates of Garren's Mill stand a pile of boulders, too large and obstinate to be either moved or easily broken down, that have come to be known as 'The Waiting Wives' due to the practice of suspicious married or betrothed women climbing atop them to better see the road, and catch their spouses or grooms-to-be trying to furtively reenter the City. The excuses range from somewhat reasonable, "going to hear the news at the Inn," to the blatantly obvious, "need to plough the fields," in the way that such things do, but the Waiting Wives have become a staple reference in the local culture for a broad range of mistakes, incidents, comparisons and complaints: "The beds there are as cold and hard as the Waiting Wives!", "Everytime I step out of the house these days she glares at me like I was caught at the Waiting Wives.", "That lot is more suspicious than the Waiting Wives, I tell ya.", and so forth. Of course infidelity isn't unique to one side but as yet the menfolk have not managed to duplicate as universally recognized a landmark in place and language as their better halves, though what meaning can be found in that is open to interpretation.
For the Town of Old Oak and Surrounding Lands
The Tree Beast
In the Greenmist Swamp bordering the north end of Old Oak lives a strange and hideous creature, or at least so certain locals will tell you. This particular mysterious monster, dubbed the Tree Beast with typical simplistic efficiency, is the bane of good sense and the guardian of the gates to the Brokilon beyond the swamp to those who see it. Every right-thinking villager knows that daring the Greenmist is dangerous due to the watchfulness and keen archery skills of the Dryads, as can be seen by the many arrows left as warnings all along its length, but now and then the Tree Beast will rear its snake-like, twisted head and nearly frighten some poor soul to death. The Tree Beast makes its lair between two white pines that only serve to exaggerate its eerily distorted shape, its outstretched many-jointed limbs and curling feelers. Most Tree Beast sightings occur in certain conditions, when the mist is particularly thick but moving, there is enough light to gleam wetly on the Beast's hide, and enough drink or suggestive tales influencing the viewer, that sudden late night shouts of "Monster in the swamp!" will ring out. In truth the Tree Beast is only a particularly odd-looking dead tree, slowly being reclaimed by the swamp and the locals know this, though they still fall prey to the 'sightings' often enough that its a part of local history. The Dryads, for their part, find the existence of this story quite humorous and typical of humans, however the eldest of them may remember that long ago a snake-like monster was actually felled by the sacrifice of two heroes in roughly the same spot where the 'Tree Beast' and the pair of white pines are today.
For the General Area
The Tumble
In the southern end of the valley, near the watchtower garrison, resides a rocky promontory high enough to jut out above the trees and shadow the road that passes along its eastern side. This large hill is considered to have the best view of the surrounding lands due to its height, though it is also the most exposed to weather which has led to its old stones being given to suddenly giving way to rockfalls that can entirely block the road below. It is also known for how many names and related stories it has, being the Youthful Tumble, the Lovers Tumble, the Tragic Tumble, and on and on in such a pattern, so that most simply shorten it to 'the Tumble' when not telling a tale of it. In something of a competitive fashion the Valley locals all seem to have their own version of a Tumble story, though many are based on well-worn yarns about youthful lovers tumbling tragically to their demise, a lovelorn suicide, a jealous spouse's revenge seeing some number of those involved going for a tumble, and on in that vein. If one were to judge by Tumble stories alone, more people would have died on the Tumble than have probably actually lived in the valley itself, yet that doesn't deter each generation from adding its embellishments to the evergrowing skein of tales belonging to it. Perhaps drawn by the stories, or the rumors of a view that is worth dying for, or the acclaim of having tumbled on the Tumble, certain adventurous souls do indeed climb the rocky hill and sometimes, inevitably, help fuel new stories as the dangers in doing so are quite real.