Wealdhold

The Wealdhold, located approximately thirteen miles northwest of Myrkentown, is a loose conglomeration of shacks, shanties, subsistence-level farmsteads and tented encampments in the region immediately east of Golben. This ill-defined settlement stretches well into the East Weald, taking advantage of the forest for shelter and forage. Having been only recently acknowledged by passing traders and merchants, the Wealdhold is tentatively named for its most notable structure: the Look, originally housing for labourers within the Pit, since abandoned and now partly fortified with materials scavenged from the surrounding area. As a recent-established and unsanctioned settlement no official census of the colony's population has been made.

History

The Wealdhold is a relatively new feature on the Myrken Wood landscape, and specific information regarding its founding is unknown. Traders traveling North Passage Down discovered the Wealdhold after the melt of winter snow in 214 AR. Wealdhold's growth coincides with the famine following the Red-and-Gold Summer, providing safe haven for transients, nomads, and the poor well outside Myrkentown's limits.

Rumors

From a transcript on file at the Myrken Wood Inquisitory, dated mid-214 AR.

...word from the regulars peddling along North Passage Down that it would behoove me to see what was blooming up alongside that damned Golben pit. I took my wares an hour or two off the main road and discovered a loud, stinking stain of tents and people surrounded by what few things belonged to them. There were some residences, though nothing you or I'd want to live in. Several dozen folks all-in-all, I estimated, but not a one of that mass seemed like they'd have anything of worth on them. Before I could depart, I was approached by two broad fellows almost two-and-twenty hands high, long of tooth and yellow-eyed. They was wearing cloaks and leather, asking me what my business was, said that they was on patrol and I was intruding. I told them I had all manners of iron and bone ware for sale, but that was it, that was all I had. They asked me if I might have a line to some mining tools for hard-rock work. Said I might, said I could probably scrounge up some old picks if I put my mind to it.

Those weren't human patrols. Not Crown, not Myrken, but not unpeaceable, either. By the One, I'm in no position to turn down coin. I'll sell to anyone; greenfolk, I come to realize, want to survive just as much as any man does, and that means their purse is just as good to me.