"If there is a bright spot in the universe, you're in the place farthest from it." -Luke Skywalker, A New Hope
Imagine, if you would, our own medieval times. Add magic, mysterious elves, and just a hint of the supernatural and you have what I am aiming for. A world rich in intrigue, depth, and busyness…at least, that's my aspiration.
Your characters will come from the tiny village of Teardale. You are on the northwest corner of the County of Devonsgate, which is in the northwest corner of the Duchy of Leeves. You are living in the most backwater remotest part of the Kingdom of Midvale that anyone has ever heard of. Nestled in the lower part of the Desertsmouth Mountains, you live in the westernmost part of the Spiderhaunt Forest. An ancient dark Elvish forest, which scares even the most bravest of adults.
The land is poor and barely fruitful, but it at least seems immune to the numerous pestilences and blights that the rest of Leeves suffer. Cold biting winters last almost half the year here, and the rest of the year is insanely busy with agriculture and logging.
Elves are the stuff of dark legend, they are mean cruel and utterly alien. They destroy villages without reasons, and offer no explanations. Teardalers know that all your very existence is controlled by the rampaging elves, whom no one has even seen. Yet they permit your existence in their woods and the rest of the kingdom because of an ancient Compact. The Silverleaf Compact. As long as no wood is chopped outside a stone's throw of a human dwelling and as long as no other strict but less well-known strictures are followed, you will be spared the Elves' wrath. Yet Teardale is special, for some reason lost in antiquity (as far as young minds are concerned), Teardale has a second compact with the Elves. It allows you to cut a certain predetermined number of trees down each year, even one of the sacred Shedeira trees; and thus allows Teardalers to be loggers. And a lumberjack's life is not an easy one, the forests are rife with Orcs and even a few of its infamous spidery inhabitants (but fortunately few venture into this part of the forest, which is known as the West Wood).
Yet Teardalers seem wiser in the arcane ways of Elves, and know how to make the Longbow; a treasured secret which is vigorously kept. The secrets of Elvish fletching and bowcraft are privy only to a chosen few in the village. Every Teardaler is knowledgeable in the ways of bows, and all Teardalers scoff at the efforts of other human archers. A legion of peasants is no match for ten Teardale bowmen in the woods.
The biting climate and the surrounding dangers makes Teardale a hard place to eke out a living, indeed the biting winters and harsh conditions have driven out all nobles who would seek to rule directly over here. Instead your tithes of lumber and food go directly to Count Ely Devon, sent through the merry (if somewhat wild) river, The Gallop. Teardalers are fiercely independent and proud lot, they endure what would break lesser men with calm. Yet for all their independence, they must work closely together all the time in order to survive. This land doesn't suffer fools at all, much less lightly.
The people are a rowdy lot, children aren't even censured until a bone is broken or a lot of blood. Some say it isn't fun and games until someone loses an eye. It is filled with colorful people who are almost outright heretical. The typical Teardaler doesn't believe in anything they can't see, touch, and if in danger huck at the offender. So the Tymerian Church has had a hard time adapting to your rustic almost pagan ways. Though the village priest, Father Paul ('Tubby' if he isn't in front of you), does his best to make amends to Tyr for your ways. All told, there only about fifty people that live in Teardale.
There are the occasional visitors. Most regularly is the Count's Deputy Seneschal, who yearly drops by and talks with the bailiff of the village, the merry innkeeper 'Red Nose' George. Why such a small village has an inn in the first place, is an entirely different story. Additionally, two traders sometimes come through…Tibby Longfellow and Ramses; they tend to bring most of the tales of the outside world. And let's not forget the dwarves, least common of visitors, they still pass through every few years or so. From the bright halls of Yellowharbor, you were but teeny children when last they visited.
As far as Teardalers going outside the village or the neighboring village of Redford (for the occasional Faire), only Lady Margret Flowers and 'Red Nose' do that. Lady Margret was the renowned midwife who delivered Prince Mark, easily the most famous person currently living in the region. And 'Red Nose' often leads the log barges down to Devonsgate, with a few lucky lads as help. George even knows how to read, him and Lady Flowers being the only literate people in the village (not even Father Tubby has mastered that arcane art of storing meaning on parchment).
A few rules that every commoner knows (although you are all freemen, these still apply to you). Only nobility has a right to arms, meaning swords are only for Knights and their like. And a horse can only be ridden by those of station, which you aren't. Thus, ornery Jack Tiller, the draft horse; only pushes a plow. Only nobles have last names, although epithets are common. The proper way to get an epithet is to earn one. Good epithets, honestly earned, are a sign of respect and pride. It is far easier to get more disparaging epithets, however.
Additionally, it is said in other parts of the land to even hint at a belief that Our Lord on High, Tyr doesn't exist will get you burned. However, there is a quiet portion of Teardale which quite frankly doesn't believe in this God nonsense. And no matter how hard Father Tubby tries he has never been able to remotely prove that God exists. There are rumors that some people may even believe in other Gods, but that is a big heresy that would make Father Tubby foam at the mouth. For the Bible (which he has never read ,but has heard, at least) says "There is only One God, and I am He."
You have to know about nature. About the Chill Wind that passes through in winter, which is an evil spirit. About the Wandering Sun, which sometimes pauses in its daily rounds…and on ominous days it fails to rise when it should. You should know that a finger lopped off isn't the end of the world, for in a few years it could grow back. Tales have it even of whole arms being grown back in time, nothing odd in that. When you eat, you don't breath in; because you could choke. You know when your tummy is full because you breath through your nose again. Thrown things are hard to predict, a rock thrown the same way twice can hit entirely two different marks. Things are louder closer to the earth, for the skies are quieter. None of these are odd, just the way the world works. Although Father Tubby doesn't bathe, Teardalers do (although Tubby says Demons will come to make those who do sick, you've never seen it happen).
The outside world is filled with different races, you've heard it told. The barbarians (which some claim have two heads and muscles bigger than a tree), the gentle merry sequelle, the hobbits, the Stone Ones, and even rumors of the terrible Kines. To the north there are the Devil worshippers, who sacrifice hordes of good folk to the Fallen One, Bane (who used to be one of Tyr's Angels, it is said). The Banites are even supposed to descend from the forest to take away small children who don't eat all their peas.
There are the more fantastical creatures out there, the griffins, Ogres, pegasi, unicorns, fairy, and more. Teardalers are very well aware of the nature of Trolls, having defeated the Omanzi Trolls in Yellow Harbor, before that foul lot found secret ways out from the undergrounds into the landscape of Leeves. And oh yes, there are dragons. Dragons are the fiercest and scariest of all creatures, older than time and deadlier than a horde of demons. Tales have it in the Crystal Plains a dark dragon has claimed an entire land unto himself, which the wise avoid for fear of him.
Yet with all these perils, it is rare for a peasant to be concerned about such things. Most wars are between nobles and are handled in a little understood manner. The ways of honour are filled with nuances and subtleties, which seem to ensure little bloodshed (in general). For these wars only the occasional herald and porter are conscripted from the lower classes, and generally they choose battlegrounds far removed from villages or crops. Only the wars with unhonourable foes mean mass conscription. And Teardalers do not have to fight except by choice, having bought away from the Count a long time ago the vassal's due. But the Counts of Devonsgate have always found it easy to convince Teardalers to join fights by lowering next years tribute (and indeed, most Teardalers are eager to fight the minions of Bane with even less inducement than that).
Traveling the land is probably difficult, you imagine. The only people that seem to have free passage are heralds, knights, merchants (though apparently they pay dearly for this right), minstrels, entertainers, mercenaries (though many a tale circulate of itinerant mercenaries turning into bandits by a Lord's decree alone), priests, pilgrims to the Holy Lands of Dammaran (where Tyr's two prophets received visions of the lord and started to preach the faith), and a few others.
Another class that is allowed free passage are Magi. Terrible and fierce, they are the stuff of legend. A handful of magi live in the Dalelands, and they are greatly feared. Meddle not in the affairs in wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger. Others ply magical arts; the herbalist, the feared witches, and the alchemists… but they are not Wizards, or at least, they don't claim to be.
Within Teardale and her environs, there are a few things of not. Big old Mount Krag looms over the dale to the southwest. No one has ever climber her (in fact, many mountains have never been climbed). The Gallop starts at Mervin's Fall, and it flows eventually into the Summer Lake, far to the southeast. Within a moments walk of the village is old Outpost Tower, which is rumored to be haunted by the soldiers that died there defending Devonsgate from Goblins and Orcs long ago. It is falling apart now and the winds play eerie music within. The Arch can occasionally be seen if you take the river path to Mervin's Falls (a favorite swimming place of Teardale children). Black as night, absorbing light, it is rumored that those who touch it are turned to a pillar of salt and the Wind of Tyr blows them away. No one ever has claimed to have been there.
Next a Who's Who of Teardale.
Daniel 'the Brick': He is one of two Provosts of the village, and also the Deputy Sheriff. A dark tempered individual, he lives and primarily drinks in his cabin. The fields around him are almost criminally negligently maintained, but his penetrating dark eyes and incredible strength insured that he is left alone. He has earned a somewhat frightened respect of the village, but he is not from Teardale.
Lady Margret Flowers: A very famed midwife, notorious gossip, and she possesses the gift of gab. Her cottage is something else, filled with minor luxuries and very homey. A pleasant lady filled with only the best intentions, but incredibly nosy.
Malcolm the 'Ice King': Ice is generally construed to be a very negative thing, however it does supply water so at heart is somewhat useful. Malcolm is a dour man and his family is called the 'Foreigners' although they've lived in the dale for over a century. They keep to themselves and are a quiet hard-working people. Malcolm is an unemotional driven individual who is also the second Provost in the village (and muttering has it the real leader of the Dale). Everyone trusts his never-ending desire to help the village and he is very respected if not liked. His family includes the oldest man in the Dale, Anthony 'The Major'. A veteran of a war a long time ago, he was made an officer and before you were born he had many important military visitors. If he hadn't injured his leg as a youth it is rumored he would have become a squire. Also in the family is Gus, a quiet figure who is pale and hardly ever talks. He is like an apparition that dwells further in the forest than anyone else. Malcolm's wife is Sarah, a very religious and dutious women who somehow suffers Malcolm's demeanor.
'Red Nose' George: He is the innkeeper and Bailiff of the village. Merry, vibrant, and constantly booming; he loves to tell stories of the outside world. He is everyone's friend and somehow manages to get by in life working very little, but managing to be so chipper that he gets away with it. His somewhat dour wife, Maurice, often has to pick up his slack (grumblingly). 'Misty' also lives with the Innkeeper in their huge place, he is a quiet well-meaning man with a child-like intellect. He is very fond of children and carries them on his shoulders about when he isn't doing menial chores (of which there are plenty).
Father Paul 'Tubby': A righteous crusader who tries and sways the Teardalers more into the proper fold with promises of salvation to the worthy, and more often the ghastly tales of hell that the wicked shall receive. Mostly, his orations amuse all but a few Teardalers. Although he can't read, he was taught in an actual Church in Devonsgate (it is rare for a village so small to get such a knowledgeable priest). His wife is the amazingly attractive (and surprisingly rugged for all of her frail beauty) Jessica, who has quite a gift of mimicking others, but is otherwise fairly boring.
'Dark John' Robertson: The Robertson's have an actual last name, which is a story in and of itself. He is a quiet industrious sort who is the root of a great deal of controversy. He seems to have some very strange views about life and is called a coward by many. Grim and often surly, he is not well-liked; yet he is indispensable to the village. He is also one of the few people that actively attend Father Tubby's sermons. Yet he is the Carpenter and Smith of the village. He spent a few years learning his craft from the Dwarves of Yellowharbor, and it is rumored that they secretly visit him from time to time. His family is huge (making up at least a quarter of the village) and winters in the Robertson's home is a fun time filled with good cheer. They have so many children that often they lose track of one or two of them for weeks at a time. Other families have been known to sort of let a Robertson child be a part of their family. His wife Rowan is exotic as they come, no brown hair or brown eyes for her. Raven black hair, eyes like storm clouds in Tibby, and an aching beauty about her. She is very foreign and knows all sorts of strange and marvelous games. She never talks about her past, but loves John fiercely. She even speaks strange words when she is upset. Dark John's brother is completely unlike him, and it is a wonder that living in the same house together doesn't drive them to violence. But for all their differences John and Fred get along. Fred is charismatic and drinks often with the Brick. He is affable and a hard-worker, he is well-liked but seems genuinely unaware of this.
The Sheep: Mostly considered dead-weight, the Sheep grudgingly work and tend matters. They are lackadaisical and are often bullies. Their children run wild and they are treated with universal disgust (except Father Tubby who seems infinitely patient in all things). They often have to permanently borrow food to make it through, but Father Tubby has said that they are actually quite industrious by other villages standards. Old Man Samuel is the patriarch and he is a confrontational loud individual, who spends most of his time berating Anthony 'the Major'.
Numbers: 1-9 are normal but ten is called 'onesy'. 11 is 'onesy-one'. 20 is 'twosy', etc. and common people have no idea what a hundred is called, instead they call 114, one and onesy-four.
Money: There is very little currency in Teardale, although Daniel 'the Brick' seems to always have some. The Church handles minting and financial affairs. There are marks which are basically a unit of weight. Marks are usually split into ½, ¼, 1/8 weights (1/32 is the smallest denomination of a Mark). So a ¼ mark of gold or silver weigh the same. Coinage is actually a whole lot more complicated than this brief description, but Teardalers certainly need not be concerned about them.
Months of the Year: Diviy - The Holy Month (Early Summer), Pear of the Searing (Late Summer), August - Harvest-tide (Early Autumn), Tibiy of the Bounties (Late Autumn), Roddy of Storms (Early Winter), Shalla the Biting (Late Winter), Hect the Melting (Early Spring), Octar of Flowers (Late Spring). There are usually about 203 days in the year. And don't worry about the calendar, I'll take care of that. J
Days of the Week: Starday is the first day of the week. Moonday, Sunday, Helmsday, Tormsday, then Tyrsday. Tyrsday is a day of rest, but this is almost always ignored in Teardale during the Summer and Autumn months. Tyrsdays don't get numbered because they are God's day, and thus above mortal numbering. Also, occasionally at the end of the month there is a Kings Day. Also, some holidays don't have days associated with them. Here is an example of a week with the Tymerian Calendar…
Night Sky: There are two moons in the Night Sky. One is Selune, which is a pure creamy white, that behaves like our moon (except there are no craters visible). It behaves differently from the Sun and Eboria in the fact that it moves fluidly through the sky, never pausing. Eboria is the second moon, which is goldish white color and grows darker and lighter throughout the year. Selune is sometimes visible during the day. Additionally, there are tales of Selune disappearing entirely for long periods of time (like decades of years). There are many constellations which behave roughly like ours (except once in a great while they break from their usual formation), most don't have names yet. However, there is a north star called The Spear of Light.