Gran March The World of Greyhawk & The World of Greyhawk Wiki The current year for our World of Greyhawk campaign is set during 579CY. Inspired By Gary Gygax

Gran March occupies the fertile plains east of the expansive Dim Forest and west of the Lortmil Mountains, bounded by the northernmost fork of the Sheldomar River in the south. A poorly defined “open” border marks the north, where nobles often keep court in both Bissel and Gran March. These days, there seems to be little difference between the two governments, though the land within 30 miles north of Hookhill is considered part of Gran March proper.

This territory also includes portions of the Dim Forest and the https://worldofgreyhawk-campaign.blogspot.com/2024/08/126.html, a haunted fen that has plagued the southern march for much of its long history. The northern baronies enjoy a temperate, dry climate not unlike that found in Bissel. The south, however, is a land of dark mists and frequent showers, particularly near the forest and swamp.

Gran March is an exceptionally martial nation. At age fifteen, all fit people enter mandatory conscription through local lotteries, for a period of up to seven years. It is a testament to the martial prowess of the nation’s young people that many continue after their required service, and those who do not are generally members of local militias. Internationally renown mailed cavalry forms the core of Gran March’s impressive army. Armed with lances, crossbows, and swords, these riders are the bane of anyone standing in their way. The Knights of the Watch and Knights of Dispatch "both from the kingdom of Keoland" offer support and welcome tactical expertise. The total standing army includes more than eighteen thousand soldiers. At least three times as many trained troops can be called up within a single week. Gran March is one of Keoland's oldest holdings, tracing its history back more than nine hundred years. Legend holds that, after the defeat of Vecna and the dissolution of his empire (placed in the northern part of the Sheldomar Valley in some accounts), the nascent Keolandish crown created an order of knights in the frontier region. The Knights of the March were ordered to bring law to the land and to quell the warring of the native Flan factions. Eventually, the leader of the knighthood was named commandant of Gran March, a title that carried with it control of the land between the https://worldofgreyhawk-campaign.blogspot.com/2024/08/126.html and Lortmils.

Life in Gran March was peaceful and safe, as few dared oppose the powerful commandant. When a perceived threat from within beset the nation, the Knights of the March sprung upon it fiercely and decisively. Sometimes, such reprisals came with little warning, often against seemingly upstanding members of the lesser aristocracy. The knights followed the secret teachings of their own inscrutable doctrine, and they showed no interest in explaining their actions to commoners.

The early 300s CY brought the Baklunish Brazen Horde to Ket, causing much consternation in the courts of the east and south. In order to protect his holdings against this Paynim threat, King Tavish I of Keoland ordered the foundation of the Knights of the Watch, built upon the basis of the Knights of the March and commanded by its leaders. This new, international knighthood quickly spread to Geoff, Bissel, and the heart of the empire, all the while retaining strong roots and key leadership in Gran March. Indeed, the commandant became titular ruler of the massive knighthood, as well as leader of his nation.

With the dawning of Keoland’s wars of aggression, in 350 CY, Gran March gained international notoriety as the primary staging ground for the Second Expeditionary Army, which invaded Veluna from the southwest. After the success of that campaign, the capital of Hookhill became an important caravan stop to points north, which served to increase the wealth of the province. By 415 CY, life in Gran March had grown extraordinarily difficult, thanks in part to Commandant Berlikyn, a harsh ruler who demanded nothing less than the most of his citizens—the most labor, the most money, the most effort. The king in distant Niole Dra knew nothing of Berlikyn’s tactics, seeing only the impressive results. In appreciation, Tavish III appointed the commandant to be the supreme commander of all the northern provinces, which at the time included Gran March, Bissel, and much of Veluna. A period of bitter oppression reigned in the north until Berlikyn was slain in the Small War.

The death of the commandant of Gran March and the loss of Bissel and the Velunese territories to Furyondy forced a change in Keoland’s policy in the north. Aware that the local nobles would not tolerate a harsh commandant, the king allowed them to elect one of their own number to the position, and forevermore split the title from that of the “Marcher Lord,” titular head of the Knights of the Watch. The government and knighthood remained closely allied.

For much of the modern era, Gran March has existed as a prosperous trade center along Keoland’s northern merchant routes. Perhaps thanks to the influence of the Knights of the Watch, the nobles of Gran March have always enjoyed strong relations with their neighbors in Sterich and Bissel.

Notable Settlements
• Orlane

Rushmoors The World of Greyhawk & The World of Greyhawk Wiki The current year for our World of Greyhawk campaign is set during 579CY. Inspired By Gary Gygax The Rushmoors are a sprawling, stagnant wound upon the Flanaess, a vast expanse of treacherous fen and black water that separates the Kingdom of Keoland from the Gran March. It is a place where the sun feels thin and the air hangs heavy with the cloying scent of decay. It is not merely a swamp; it is a repository for things the world has forgotten and things that refuse to die, a primordial landscape where the line between the earth and the abyss is dangerously porous.

Beneath the suffocating canopy of weeping willows and gnarled mangroves, the water is a mirror of obsidian, hiding depths that defy logic. These pools are the lungs of the moor, exhaling toxic miasmas that cause the mind to wander and the spirit to falter. Here, the "rush" of the moors is not the sound of water, but the dry, frantic scraping of reeds against one another—a sound often mistaken for the whispers of the many thousands who have vanished into the muck, their bones claimed by the insatiable peat.

The Rushmoors are infamous as the ancestral seat of the Whispered One, the lich-god Vecna, before his ascension. The ruins of his ancient strongholds are said to still pulse with a rhythmic, necrotic heartbeat, buried deep beneath layers of silt and spite. Dark cultists and those desperate for forbidden lore often venture into these depths, drawn by the lingering echoes of the Spider Throne. Most find only a slow death, their life essence siphoned away by the very soil, which has tasted the blood of gods and craves more.

Monstrosities of unnatural pedigree haunt the fog-choked channels. Massive, bloated amphibians with skin like wet leather lurk just beneath the surface, while swarms of stirges and blood-drinking insects turn the air into a shimmering veil of red.

Yet, the true terrors are the "Mist-Walkers"—ethereal remnants of fallen Keoish soldiers and ancient Flan tribesmen who haunt the perimeter of the moors, bound to the terrain by curses that have outlasted the civilizations that birthed them.

At the heart of the mire lies the dread "Blackwater," a region so cursed that even the local lizardfolk tribes avoid it. In this dead zone, the vegetation is calcified and bone-white, standing in stark contrast to the surrounding rot. It is whispered that here, time itself stagnates; those who enter may emerge centuries later, or find themselves aging a lifetime in a single night. The silence in the Blackwater is absolute, a heavy, physical pressure that crushes the will of the bravest adventurer.

The lizardfolk of the Rushmoors are not the primitive hunters found elsewhere, but a xenophobic and cruel people who serve powers older than the current gods. They have built great, ziggurat-like mounds of mud and bone, where they conduct bloody rites under the pale moon to appease the "Sleeper in the Silt." Their chanting, a rhythmic thrumming that vibrates through the swamp floor, serves as a grim warning to any who would dare navigate the labyrinthine waterways without an invitation.

Navigation is a fool’s errand, as the very geography of the Rushmoors is known to shift. Islets of solid ground disappear overnight, swallowed by the shifting sludge, while new, jagged spires of rock rise from the depths like the teeth of a rising beast. To be lost in the Rushmoors is to be erased; the bog does not just kill, it consumes the memory of your existence, pulling your name and your legacy down into the cold, anaerobic dark.

As night falls over the moors, the "Will-o'-the-Wisps" ignite, dancing with a malevolent, sickly green light. They are the eyes of the Rushmoors, guiding the unwary toward the deepest bogs and the sharpest hazards. To look upon them is to see the end of all things—a cold, damp, and lonely conclusion in a land that has never known the warmth of mercy or the light of true day. The Rushmoors do not merely exist; they wait, with the infinite patience of the grave.

Critical Role Falls Short For Me The World of Greyhawk & The World of Greyhawk Wiki The current year for our World of Greyhawk campaign is set during 579CY. Inspired By Gary Gygax

Before I get into this, I am sure I will be vastly outnumbered by all the little critters that worship Critical Role and I'm ok with that. I started watching Critical Role during Campaign One but due to work it was hard to stay with due to lack of time. I endured the Tiberius Stormwind episodes where Orion Acaba nearly pushed me away from them with his stupidty and eventually got to around the halfway point of the first campaign.

By the time I got the first half of Campaign One watched I was starting to get a little burnt out and Campaign Two had started so I started watching the second campaign and got to a little before the half way point of this campaign as well. One thing I started seeing in both of these campaign was the amount of B-Rated acting going on.

Sure, I get it, they were trying to put on a show for the audience but still, it was just cringe to watch at times. It got to the point where I just stopped watching them all together. I simply was not feeling it anymore. The Vox Machina released as a series which I've watched in its entirety and I am probably watching the Mighty Nein when it releases.

I don't see the animations as a D&D show, they are more like a regular animation to me and I'll admit, Vox Machina was a fun watch as I am sure the Mighty Nein will be. The D&D live plays however "for me" are just not feeling like Dungeons & Dragons any more.

While I refuse to play 5th edition, "some" live plays are "ok" to watch but Critical Role "imho" has lost its way. It doesn't even feel like D&D any more, it is more like them being B-Rated actors acting out a script. I still adore Laura Bailey, I mean, how could you not? Marisha Ray's acting just makes my skin crawl lol.

I've watch clips from Campaign 3 and I can see how they have changed for the worse, it's not even about the TTRPG experience any longer, it's more about bad acting and money, and let's not even get started on campaign 4 lol I seen the characters being played and it seems like 90% are either furries, devils or some non human race . . . nah, I think I'll pass. I don't hate them or anything, I am just not interested in them like I was at the beginning. I still wish them all the best of luck though.

Javan River The World of Greyhawk & The World of Greyhawk Wiki The current year for our World of Greyhawk campaign is set during 579CY. Inspired By Gary Gygax

The Javan river is indeed the longest river in the whole of the Flanaess and has its headwaters high up in the Barrier Peaks. The Javan passes through several regions. It passes through the Valley of the Mage, the Dim and Oytwood forests, skirts the Rushmoors (wetlands of the Gran March), and forms the eastern border of the March of Sterich. The Javan then passes between the Good Hills, the Jotens and the Little Hills, skirts the Dreadwood, passes through the The Yeomanry League, into the Hool Marshes, and finally empties into the Azure Sea.

The Realstream merges with the Javan just before it emerges from the Oytwood, near where the Oytwood meets the Rushmoors. The river is navigable from the Azure Sea as far north as Cryllor, in the Good Hills region of Keoland.

Oytwood The World of Greyhawk & The World of Greyhawk Wiki The current year for our World of Greyhawk campaign is set during 579CY. Inspired By Gary Gygax

To the west of the rotting Rushmoors lies the Oytwood, an ancient forest that feels less like a woodland and more like a vast, wooden tomb. Here, the suffocating mists of the swamp do not dissipate; instead, they thicken, tangling within the jagged fingers of black oak and ironwood. The transition from mire to forest is marked by a line of drowned, skeletal trees that stand knee-deep in brackish pools, their bark peeling away like rotting skin to reveal the pallid, sickly wood beneath.

The canopy above is a dense, interlocking weave of shriveled leaves and parasitic moss, so thick that it chokes out the sun even at high noon. What little light manages to bleed through is filtered into a bruised, sickly violet hue, casting long, distorted shadows that seem to shiver with a life of their own. There is no vibrant green here; the palette of the Oytwood is one of charcoal greys, bruised purples, and the jaundiced yellow of fungus that erupts from every weeping trunk.

The air is heavy with the scent of damp earth and ancient, undisturbed mold, a stagnant pressure that makes every breath feel like a labor. Silence reigns in these woods, but it is not a peaceful quiet; it is the breathless stillness of a creature holding its breath in the dark.

The usual music of the forest—the chirp of birds or the rustle of small game—is absent, replaced by the occasional, wet thwack of a heavy moss clump falling into the mud or the distant, agonizing groan of two dying trees rubbing together in the wind.

Beneath the towering oaks, the forest floor is a treacherous maze of exposed, arthritic roots and hidden sinkholes filled with the same black sludge found in the heart of the Rushmoors. Thick, thorny brambles known as "widow’s lace" carpet the ground, their ebony vines tipped with needles that weep a clear, numbing sap. These vines coil around the base of every tree like tightening nooses, slowly strangling the life out of the forest and leaving behind a graveyard of standing timber.

There is a sense of profound, lingering sorrow that permeates the Oytwood, as if the forest itself is mourning a tragedy forgotten by the world of men. The trees do not grow straight toward the light; they twist and contort in agony, their limbs bent at unnatural angles that mimic the limbs of the "changed" folk in Orlane. Explorers often claim to hear the faint, muffled sound of sobbing carried on the wind, only to find nothing but the hollow trunk of a rotted willow or the rhythmic dripping of sap onto dead leaves.

To enter the Oytwood is to step into a realm where time has curdled and the boundary between life and decay has dissolved. It acts as a grim sentinel for the Rushmoors, a place where the shadows are deep enough to hide the unspeakable and where the cold dampness of the earth seems to reach up to pull the living down into the dark. It is a broken wilderness, a fading echo of a forest that has finally succumbed to the creeping, reptilian rot that flows from the east.