[ Planes of Cordance > Pangaea > Haven ]
Wyldhaven
Local headquarters of the Wylders Sect
Location: Pangaea / Wyldhaven
CHARACTER: So Wyldhaven ain’t much to look at, berk—it’s just a cave draped in hides frankly—but it’s the heartbeat of the Verdent Guild, those bashers who’ve pledged their lives to shielding the Primal Forest from any clueless poacher or heartless hunter that blunders in. See, the conditions of Pangaea itself mean that no cities nor keeps can be constructed here, for even if some sod tried, the plane itself would quickly strip the know-how right from their brains. So the Wylders made do with nature’s bare bones, carving out a life where stone and fire are enough.
RULER: The chief of the Wylders is a cutter named Jorval Ironskin (orc-wererhino barbarian [he/him] / Verdant Guild / CG) who is one of the rare petitioners of Indrik. He’s a leather-tough sod with a knack no spell nor trinket can match: he never gets lost. The man’s a walking map of the Primal Forest, and he knows every animal lord’s lair and temper, every safe path and every perilous glade. He’s got no patience for fancy speech or philosophy, but if you want to keep breathing the good air of Pangaea, you’ll learn to follow his lead without flinching.
BEHIND THE THRONE: While Jorval’s the sod with the voice that carries furthest, the mind behind the tribe’s cunning is Taklak (planar kobold ranger [he/him] / Verdant Guild / CG), a cutter with eyes sharper than a hawk’s and fingers quick enough to rustle up a snare faster than you can tie your boots. Despite the stereotype of his race being clueless Taklak is not a cutter to underestimate. With his low profile he’s the perfect height to spot outsiders without them spotting him first. Trap-crafting’s his art, using simple and clever works of misdirection—cleverly disguised traps dropping a sod into an insect-filled pit, innocent-looking flowering vines dangling over a cave entrance that are actually toxic, or a snares set as subtle as a shadow. Even stripped of “proper” technological knowledge by Pangaea’s primitive touch, Taklak is able to make do and twists even simple twigs into deadly trickery. So while folk toast Jorval as chieftain, it’s Taklak who keeps Wyldhaven hidden, safe, and two steps ahead of trouble.
DESCRIPTION: Wyldhaven’s cave is homely, though no cutter would deign to call it pretty. The entrance is curtained in hides, the kind taken in honest kills, and little bonfires burn low, filling the place with warmth and smoke. Beds of woven grass make sleeping mats, and shelves of stone and clay tablets hold their lore, half magical etchings, and half rough scribbled maps of hunts and paths. One wall’s scrawled and layered with Taklak’s precious “blueprints”—maps of Pangaea itself, marked with the seasonal movements of herds, the positions of great realms, and most importantly, circles marking the sites the Well of Urd spits green planewalkers out. For all its crude trappings, it feels lived in, comfortable—a small village under stone.
MILITIA: Every Wylder’s some kind of a ranger or druid, but don’t expect much in the way of hierarchy—the call to fight is Jorval’s, and the others join in as one. They may lack fine weapons or armour, but their bond with the land makes ‘em twice as dangerous.
SERVICES: Outsiders shouldn’t expect much from Wyldhaven—it ain’t a burg full of crafters or peddlers. A blood can snatch a place to rest, safe enough from hostile beasties, but don’t go asking your hosts for food or gear. The Wylders live by strict measure; they take only what the land gives ‘em and won’t strip it bare for some addle-coved planewalker. They’ll provide the bed (or at least what passes for one in Pangaea)—you bring your own breakfast.
LOCAL NEWS:
- The Wylders wait for trouble, but waiting wears a body down. Whispers among some of the younger buashers are starting to suggest maybe they’d be better off slipping back to their old lives off-plane, though none dare speak it too loud.
- Taklak’s wall-map shows strange new marks on the migration paths of beasts—spirals, breaks, and odd loops no natural herd should make. He’s convinced it means something, but Jorval tells him the Forest’ll explain in its own time.
- The Verdant Guild sends no word these days. Some Wylders worry their kin in the wider multiverse have forgotten them, while others say it’s just the first sign that the next Extinction Event is coming.
Source: SGreen, Jon Winter-Holt and Margarita, based on an idea by Greg Jensen. Canonwatch: Everything here is homebrew.
