Loch Bán & Coillte Ciúin

Geography

The land that enshrouds Loch Bán is mostly flat, as geographical terms go. Although on foot the story is a bit different with many small hills seemingly wrenched up from the earth by the twisted roots of the evil oaks towering over the roads. This means that leaving the Menhir Ways is often more dangerous not simply because of fey and fell beast, but because the terrain is treacherous. A bó or horse could easily break its leg in the slithering roots and more than one traveler has tripped, disappearing down a slope and into the dark forest to fate unknown.

There are a few greater hills that tower up over the trees, most of these topped with Raths and caer of ancient past, now home to things that haunt, rather than live, within their walls. On the opposite side of the geographical coin there are also a few flat, grassy clearings where small barrows or menhir henges were erected centuries ago. Every edifice of man is toppled, overgrown and moss-ridden.

History

The region was originally colonized in AoS 2300, with many small caern-hearths spreading out across the forest. What few records remain of that time describe the area as verdant and green, untouched by the silence that now haunts it with an abundance of noisy life. It was not until 2362 that the primary settlement, the caern-rath North-the-Lake, was founded and erected just north of the loch.

When The Wounding of the Good Son stole the Age of Summer from the peoples of the Inisa, the forest darkened. It was imperceptible, gradual, many of the records say. Before anyone could realize the woods had become twisted and dark, fey-haunted and infested with night-fiends. The people of the region became reclusive, almost diminished in their nature. They took upon themselves the quiet and the stoicism of their homeland.

When the War of Spears came to An Coillte Ciúin by way of Lwyg-Rath, it found a solemn, but steadfast people. Fighting them was a bitter affair both because the soldiers of Lwyg-Rath had difficulty navigating the land in war time, but because it seems the quiet reverence the people of the region gave Loch Bán afforded them some favor with the White Lady. The enemy was harrowed day and night by vicious fey. But, they would not be denied. Eventually they took North-the-Lake, who would then go back to earn its freedom in a cunning reversal.

An Coillte Ciúin did not seem to care about the blood spilled on its soil. Even long after the War of Spears and the dozens or hundreds of battles fought through past five decades the woods remain silent and brooding. Like some ponderous fiend glaring out over the western shore, one can't help but feel that An Coillte Ciúin is always watching and waiting.

The forests around the loch remain in this way even in the Age of Discovery. This is not necessarily despite a parlay between the Council of the Teanga Beithir and the White Lady in which the Ard Righ of the time brokered what has become known as the Pale Serpent pact. Essentially, the peoples living in An Coillte Ciúin cannot overly tax the land and any expansions or new settlements must first receive the blessings of the White Lady. In return, the White Lady keeps the forest's more bizarre denizens from preying on mortal-kin.

While the realms around Loch Bán are safer, with people moving and growing between the new caern-hearths constructed along the coast following the destruction of many in the Year of Invasions, they are no less eerie. The forest, while serene, can still be dark and distressingly quiet. Many claim to still feel watched as they not only travel, but merely live, under the boughs of the Silent-Weald. Perhaps, agents of the White Lady still stalk the lanes and hedgerows, ensuring the mortals keep their word.

Ecosystem

Despite its quiet and generally sinister nature, the Whisper-Weald carries on as a normal forest might. Deer and some elk are chased among the grasping boughs by wolves and barghest. Ferns and mosses, those that can, grow among the exposed root systems that breach the surface.

The soil here is a dry, grey dirt that is home to few smaller plants and the myriad insects that make their homes in the holes and roots. A few rocky escarpments allow some forms of birds to shelter away from both the irritable trees and the slavering foxes that stalk the ground. Possibly the most ferocious of life in the Silent Wood are the badgers. Unflappable, vicious creatures that are not accustomed to fear and will readily sack an adventurer's camp. They can quickly consume a full day's rations before ambling off to their dens.

In the spring the dry soil is given way to the thick mud from the rains that sprinkle down from the roiling black clouds above. Which makes travel even more dangerous than usual as one no longer just needs to worry about tripping or falling on roots and old broken roads, but now they must avoid getting bogged down in the muck or slipping on the mud.

In the summer and autumn it dries again, with the soil returning to its dusty grey nature. Then winter sets in and blankets the already silent region in a deafening snow. Now, the very air seems to eat noise and the sensation of true, crushing loneliness sets in to those who inhabit the region.

Flora & Fauna

The animal life in the Whisper-Weald is meager. Deer and few elk timidly walk beneath the canopy of gnarled branches. Foxes, badgers, a handful of wolves and barghest roam after them. What few birds dart between the trees seek refuge in the rocky cliffs that overlook some of the loch; robins, bullfinches and king fishers. Regardless of the species, many seem to refuse to make noise, even the predators wait till the last second before making the kill.

The plants of the region are disquieted, evil looking things. Pedunculated oaks whose branches reach up like witches' talons clawing at the black sky, snaking roots turning up the earth into small mounds with dozens of tripping tendrils running down from their apex. Mixed among them are sessile oaks, squat and malignantly brooding over the grounds they sit upon. Thorny brambles, dry mosses and brown ferns dance about the roots of their larger kin like imps at a hag's bonfire.

Localized Phenomena

Fox Lights - Strange, multi-colored lights appear at random intervals throughout the region. They have no noticeable source, simply a drifting haze that illuminates the night. However, legends say a particular type of fox spirit or fey is nearby, using the lights to try and trick passersby off the menhir ways. Some tales even say the foxes use them to light the roads for a weary traveler. It just depends on how lucky you are.

The Sleeping Mirror - No one goes into the loch as most are afraid its a portal to the White Lady's domain where they will be forever trapped at her leisure. When she takes to the waters in her swan boat, silently sliding along its glassy surface, the waters become enchanted. Anyone who touches the waters of the loch during this time fall under a powerful sleep that even Elfin Children may not resist.

Natural Resources

Loch Bán is named, probably, with a sense of irony. Its murky black depths are very rarely broken by even the feintest hint of a ripple. What fish there may be are left untouched until they leave the lake by way of one of the streams or the Washer's Shoal river that passes way to the south. No Carach plies her waters, no fishers darken her shores. Very few folk indeed even bother traveling to the loch, save for those intrepid souls who wish a glimpse of the White Lady, for whom the lake is named, gliding across the black-mirror surface of the loch on her swan boat.