The land generally associated with the ancient Province of Haranshire, back when it was part of the Nerath Empire. Like most places, it holds points of light in the darkness, namely milborne and thurmaster.

Blanryde Hills
Old limestone hills with few monsters or humanoids.

“There be that funny ranger man up there, he be pixieled, you mark my words”
-Old Grizzler, Retired Dwarven Miner

Rivers (the Churnett, the Oldscutt, & the Woldcote)
Mostly slow-flowing, with currents flowing southwards down the Oldcutt, northwards up the Woldcote, and westwards along the Churnett. All are navigable by small river barges except inside the Shrieken Mire.

“Good fishin’ most of the way. Mind you, it ain’t as good as what it were when I was a lad, like.”
-Jethro, Shepherd from Thurmaster

Patchwork Hills
Low hills with excavated agricultural terraces on the north side. Cutter Brook rises from the western hills. Again, there are few reports of humanoids or monsters of any kind here.

“They do say as how them goblin and orc critters wiped theirselves out in a big battle before I was knee-high to a grasshopper, like. Leastways, that’s what they say.”
-Dirkaster, owner of Baron of Mutton Inn

The High Moor
Largely barren moorland used for grazing by shepherds to the south, around the margins of Milborne and its farmsteads.

The Great Rock Dale
Very craggy, deep fissure, flooded in places, wooded in others. Full of steep declines; it’s hard to move safely here. Wholly unsettled, wild land.

“There be all kinds of critters there, they do say. Orcs and goblins and ‘obgobhns and all sorts. But they seem to spend their time fighting each other, and they haven’t troubled us since the bitewinter, oh, seven years ago or more.”
-Old Grizzler, Retired Dwarven Miner

The Hardlow Woods
Old, often impenetrable, wild woods. Worgs and other beasts are sometimes a menace on the margins of the woods.

“Worgs! I tell you, I seen one the size of a horse three years back when it got a bit nippy ‘round the end of the year, like. No, I tell a lie, ’twas the size of a house! Well, alright, I admit ’twasn’t me as saw it, but old Jethro, he done told me about it. Made his eyes near pop out of his head, it did!”
-Jedd, Farmer from Thurmaster

The Thornwood
Extensive woodland. Only the area known as the Blessed Woods is known to be inhabited by humans, though some farmers graze pigs on acorns along Hog Brook.

“You don’t want to go there, you mark my words. I can still remember the Scourge, as we calls it round here, when Count Parlfrey brought in all them mercenaries to clear out the orcs. Killed more of ‘em than my dog’s killed rats, they did. No sign of the varmints now. But there be darkness and evil in those woods, they do say.”
-Old Grizzler, retired dwarven miner

“There be one of them druids in the Thornwood! The old druid-I misremembers his name … Darlen, was it?-‘e gathered his last mistletoe a few years back, like, and now there’s this funny female critter ‘round with a pack o’ wolves, they do say. Wolves! I ask you! Owls and ferrets was good enough for old Darlen. I don’t know what the world’s comin’ to. Buy me another tankard?”
-Jedd, Farmer from Thurmaster

The Shrieken Mire
Clogged fenland and marsh. Some people brave the margins to harvest marsh hay and catch small game, but the insects are a real menace in summer and the atmosphere is distinctly unhealthy.

“There used to be them lizard men there, do you remember? Not as we sees anything of them. Mind you, there’s the ghost of that swine Artran Shrieken wandering in there, the evil wretch. And they do say as how there’s Something Else. Calls herself Queen of the Mire, I hear, but what she-or it-be, I never could hear tell. No one I know’d be stupid enough to risk their lives and souls in the Mire, Gawds help us!”
-Jedd, Farmer from Thurmaster

The Redwood
Cultivated woods with many fruit trees and berry vines which yield fine crops in early fall, hence the name.

“Luvverly the Redwood is in the spring when all the flowers are in bloom. I done my courtin’ there when I was a lad.”
-Jedd, Farmer from Thurmaster

Howler’s Moor
Barren, desolate moorland. Very little shepherding here, though there are some (easy to miss) trails to the north lands which cross the moor.

“Powers protect us, you don’t want to go there, you mark my words! There be that terrible black dog, the Hound of the Moors! Its very howl can turn yer blood to ice, and it breathes fire and brimstone, that it does! I’ve heard as how it ate up a whole horse in a single mouthful, that it did, and ran the rider down and ate him up too. Lummocks, just thinkin’ about it makes me go all funny like. Buy me a drink will you? Just medicinal, like. One of them little brandies-no, better make it a large one
-Old Grizzler, Retired Dwarven Miner


Night Below Epicfetus