Vastar: Orcs Rule the Vast

In those days, men were not seen on the northern shores of the Inner Sea, save in occasional daring (or desperate) raids or exploring bands. Elves ruled the deep-forested western shore of the Dragon Reach from fabled Myth Drannor, dragons laired about the Moonsea and held sway over its lands and the broad gulf of the Reach itself, and orcs ruled the eastern shore of the Reach - a brawling rule of constant coups, counter-attacks, and strife with all other inhabitants of the mountains.

Despite the chaos, the birthrate of the fecund orcs allowed them to recover from even the bloodiest civil strife or dragon raids (for young dragons were wont to dine on roast orc, plucked from hillsides and gatherings by the talonful). Orcs grew so numerous as to gather into raiding hordes every dozen summers or so. These great, undisciplined hosts of warriors would build or seize ships and sail away south to plunder and slay. Few ever returned, the survivors spreading out across the warmer, richer southern Realms, and so the overcrowding of Vastar was regularly relieved.

To build their crude, ramshackle ships ("barges with sails," one disdainful elven observer called them) the orcs felled the timber of The Vast repeatedly, until little remained and they had to seize what they needed from the elven shores across the Reach. The orcs soon found that if they sailed across the storm-torn Reach without securing a landing-place first they were doomed to a swift death under elven arrows and magic ere they could land. So army after army crossed the River Lis (then known by its full elven name of "Nuathlis") at the northern end of the Reach in the years between hordes. Time after time these armies found the elves waiting for them. The hail of arrow-fire on orcs slogging slowly through the marshy banklands of the Lis brought great slaughter, earning the Lis the nickname "Blood River," still in use among orcs and half-orcs today.

In such raids, in crude farming, fishing, and mountain-hunting to feed themselves, and in mining and the forging of weapons, the orcs of Vastar occupied their time. Proud and reckless, they often mounted raids to seize goods in short supply but never staged strategic attacks to weaken enemies gathering strength nearby nor worked any diplomacy or trade with the lands around. They formed no formal tribes but dwelt in groups following the most charismatic (or brutal and feared) orc heroes - large living groups known as glauraur. Human sages are correct in labeling glauraur as the forerunners of tribes but most erroneously believe they were large family groups, or clans formed of allied families. In truth, the orcs of Vastar were all interrelated, and once children were reared little attention was paid to the human idea of "family." They concerned themselves with power and hedonism, chiefly enjoying the torture and devouring of hunted-down prey and gossiping about the endless struggles among the orc chieftains to gain greater standing and so win "closer to the Overking." The orcs were a mighty people, who - so long as some prudence was practiced when dragons were a - wing or elves about-gave little thought to any foe ever rising to challenge "the teeth of Vastar."

The Coming of the Dwarves

And so, in the end, the proud orcs fell. Dwarves, mining in the mountains, came west and south underground, following veins of good ore, and met with the orcs in the lightless ways of the deeps. After the initial skirmishes, the dwarven war-councils determined that no orc who had seen a dwarf in the mines must be allowed to live, so that no word would get back to the orc chieftains of any organized foe. Lesser goblinkin (mainly goblins and kobolds) enslaved by the orcs to work the mines were ignored by the dwarves-so they never told their cruel orc masters of dwarven activities they saw or aided their orc overseers when the dwarves came slaying.

The deaths of many orcs in the mountains were ascribed to the great struggle for the throne of Overking (created by a monstrous orc known only as Ologh and left vacant upon his death in the jaws of the great Wyrm of the Peaks, the black dragon Iyrauroth). Warring factions among the orcs fought each other up and down Vastar for eight blood-soaked summers and winters, until Grimmerfang defeated (and ceremonially spitted, cooked, and ate) the last of his rivals, renaming Ologh's court of the Hollow Mountain "Mount Grimmerfang."

It was to be his tomb. The dwarves had worked in secret with a few men and elves to develop a steel whose bite was poison to orcs, and with its aid broke out of the mountain caverns to, in the words of the sage Fairin Icemantle, "run in waist-high riot across the land." Fairin had grave misgivings about the use of the "orcslayer" metal, fearing it would be only the first step in the making of many alloys harmful to other races, bringing ruin to all. His Treatise Against Blood-Metal survives in libraries in Sembia, Cormyr, and Waterdeep (and perhaps also in the ruins of Myth Drannor), giving us the only first-hand account of the dwarven victories.

The secrets of making "orcslayer" blades, and even just which mountain is Mount Grimmerfang, have been lost over the years. The few dwarven elders who can still identify the Hollow Mountain do nor speak of it to humans or elves (Elminster says he's never investigated in person but believes it to be the first peak north and east of Mount Wolf). The victorious dwarves drove the orcs far to the north and south into the mountain heights. Claiming all the Vast as their own, the dwarves founded a surface kingdom in 610 DR. "The Realm of Glimmering Swords," dwarven songs call it, though it also had a less grand, everyday name: Roldilar. Dwarves built themselves stone towers and brought herds of sheep, goats, and shaggy-hair cattle up from the lands south across the Inner Sea to roam the rolling grasslands cleared by the orcs. The dwarves devoted themselves to drinking (concocting fiery, legendary potables to do so), mining, and the making of wondrous armor, finery, adornments, and weaponry. Little of this work would they part with in trade-just enough to buy more livestock or else honey (which many dwarves love, especially in mead) from halflings who dwelt in woodlands here and there along the shores of The Inner Sea.

A few bold men came to dwell in the region at this time, notably the powerful mage known afterwards as Maskyr One-Eye (his vale is today the site of the human village of Maskyr's Eye). In those days (645 DR), men were few north of the Sea of Fallen Stars, and they went quietly and well-armed. The beast-men (ogres) held Thar, goblinkin were furtive and few after the orcs' defeat, and the dwarves held the lands east of the Dragon Reach from where Mulmaster now stands to what is now eastern Impiltur. Maskyr was exploring, looking for a place far from the affairs of men to build himself a tower, when he found a certain wooded vale much to his liking. Shrouded in mountain-mists as he came upon it one morn, it lay quiet and beautiful, and he decided that he would make his home there - and there alone.

King among the dwarves then was one Tuir, called "Stonebeard" for his grim stoicism and slow humor. Tuir set his throne deep under Mount Grimmerfang, where the dwarves had once slain the orc-king to seize control of the realm. Maskyr sought audience with Tuir in his halls one day and before all the Court asked the Deep King his price for the vale. At his words, silence fell like a cloak throughout the great hall. Maskyr had learned patience in long years of seeking out and experimenting with the Art, so he leaned upon his staff and held his peace, his eyes meeting the stony gaze of the Deep King. Tuir stroked his beard in thought for a time. He could see that this human must command the Art, and in some power, too-and yet he was loathe to give up any land to humans and trusted powerful mages nor at all. Finally, he said gruffly "The vale is yours, from rim to rim and beneath the grass as deep as four men stand upon each other's shoulders, upon one condition only. Pluck out thy right eye and give it to me, here and now, and the vale is thine."

And to the astonishment of the Roldilarren Court, Maskyr did, without hesitation. Tuir, with new respect for this human (he'd never thought anyone would pay such a price), commanded that no dwarf disturb the archmage's studies nor intrude upon his borders. Maskyr the One-Eyed lived contentedly alone in his valley for several hundred years until he vanished (presumably slain) while on an interplanar journey.

During that time, the power of the dwarves waned, orcs came again to the northern Vast, and humans came in numbers, to hurl back all other creatures and claim the Vast for their own. For all the songs and tales, the rule of the dwarves was short-lived, perhaps forty years in all. Orcs "breed like nothing else on or under Faerûn; they put even hares to shame," as Elminster so delicately put it; all too soon, they rose again, and the dwarven kingdom vanished like an elephant swarmed by a million ants. The dwarven defenses were broken by defeats at the fords of the Vesper and in the battle of Deepfires, a long and bloody fight that raged throughout the underground ways of the mountain for nearly twenty days. This infamous struggle (649 DR) is still remembered in dwarven laments and sayings, such as "I feel as if my axe was broken in the midst of Deepfires," often uttered by dwarves who are sick, depressed, in pain, or simply overwhelmed by a multitude of woes.

In the aftermath of this disaster, the weakened dwarves retreated east and overseas southwards. Tuir was the last Deep King to claim the surface lands or even to be known of there If an organized dwarven kingdom still exists in the area, it must be deep and quiet indeed.

The Vast in Human Hands

Into the power vacuum left by the collapse of the dwarven kingdom came humans, mainly by ship from the crowded southern lands across the Sea of Fallen Stars, and began to settle south of the Fire River. The humans spread rapidly across the Vast, clashing often with orcs and the wild menaces of the mountains (notably leucrotta and trolls) who had grown numerous preying upon wounded and dead dwarves and orcs all across the war-torn land. Men cleared land for farms, collected fieldstone into low walls, and built good roads. Adventuring bands built themselves small keeps and collected "shield taxes" from nearby farmers in return for a promise to protect them against attack. Such defense (usually against orcs, trolls, and brigands) typically came by means of mounted warriors, bolstered by a minor battle-mage and a cleric of Tempus or Helm-and usually came too late.

Still, humans, as one elven writer of the time put it, "breed almost as recklessly as the burners" (i.e. orcs), and their swelling numbers, aided by immigration as much as by birthrate, soon absorbed the former inhabitants and pushed the predators of the Vast back into the mountains and wilder foothills. There seemed a higher number of those who cheerfully seek out adventure among humans than among the other races, too. Bards of the Vast sometimes call this "The Time of Glorious Fools," after the many adventurers who took on hopeless odds and undertook foolhardy attacks- and, astonishingly, won almost as often as they perished. When good roads linked Mulmaster on the Moonsea and Procampur and Tsurlagol on the Inner Sea to the rest of the Vast, and several years of bountiful harvests followed, human rule of the area was assured. The ports of Calaunt, Tantras, and the old dwarven city of Sarbreen (later to become Ravens Bluff) quickly found use by trading vessels from Sembia, Impiltur, Aglarond, and the city-state of Westgate seeking farm produce and selling fine cloth, ironwork, locks, and weapons. The harbors became trade-stops, in addition to their established uses as pirate rest-and-repair stops and immigrant-ship landing-places. Human settlers explored the nearer and more accessible mines of the area and prospered further. Many of the larger farmers grew wealthy, bought up surrounding farmers, and began calling themselves "lords." These country gentry were often retired adventurers, while others lost their lands to adventurers looking for a place to retire, who thus replaced them as the local lords. Even today, many of these petty lords are folk of considerable ability and dangerous to cross. Among the most wealthy gentry today in the Fire River uplands near Ravens Bluff are Lord Thalmir of Mossbridges (CN hm W12), Lord Malaph Serpentshield of Dark Hollow (NE hm F14), and Lady Estele Greymantle of Highbank Forest (CG hf 11th-level Priestess of Eldath, dedicated to nurturing and rebuilding woodlands within her holding).

Although orcs and various monsters continue to infest the mountains, raiding down into the Vast now and then (especially during harsh winter weather), barring some great disaster human rule of the Vast seems assured for now and years to come.

The Vast Today

The three largest settlements in the Vast are the cities of Ravens Bluff, Tantras, and Calaunt. Exploring the rivals of Ravens Bluff in detail is beyond the scope of this work, but it is worth noting that most rural folk in the Vast view Tantras as a "god-ridden" place of "suspicious, unfriendly folk," (thanks to the many worshipers of Torm who reside there) and consider Calaunt as an openly evil, sinister place: a den of thieves, dominated by arrogant idiots. Anyone acting in an arrogant, dangerously silly or foolish manner may be called a "Calaunt-head," or told "oh, go back to Calaunt."

Many of these same rural folk view Ravens Bluff as a colorful, dangerous place of chaotic intrigue. Some of them even call it "the Mad City." These views are hardly surprising, given the judgment of the prominent sage Elminster of Shadowdale, who recently commented that the cities of the Vast "aren't exactly stable and easy-going places to dwell, now, are they?" When asked for advice folk should heed when traveling in the Vast, Elminster added: "Beware-there are beasts and secrets sleeping in those mountains that had best be awakened only by someone with a ready blade and fast spells, if they would live to boast of it . . . . Another watchword of the Realms springs to mind as fitting, too. Remember: bandits and orcs are always with us. Slay one and three stand up in the same place. Kill one at thy gate, and expect to find another waiting under thy bed. Conduct thyself accordingly, and live longer."

The Countryside

The countryside in general consists of rolling farmland, the fields being used for all manner of crops suitable to the climate and for grazing. Low stone rubble walls divide the fields; where a farm fronts on roads, these have often been encouraged to grow into wild hedges. Woodlots have been left here and there among the farms, although these are small in both area and tree-height; they have grown from the scrub left behind by orc treecutters centuries ago. Small brooks and streams are plentiful, but these seldom join up into the large, named rivers; instead, they tend to drain into pools and thence by underground ways seep down towards the sea. Some spring up again later and repeat the process. This crazy jigsaw of a water table is due to the broken, tilted layers of rock that underlie the deep soil of the Vast; dwarves say that it looks like a vast cauldron of ice chunks was stirred and then allowed to freeze with the ice sticking up at odd angles. Sinkholes, caves, and rifts are plentiful but very small; local farm children can often hide from visitors in an "empty field" by using small stone nooks and tiny sinkhole pockets that only someone intimately familiar with the ground would find. Many farmers hide their wealth in such holes, while others build privies over them.

Where the farms end, the forest proper begins, broken by occasional stone outcrops as the foothills rise up into the mountains. Like the woods and copses dividing the farmlands below, these trees are largely regrowth sprung up from saplings left behind by orc treecutters long ago. The local druids (see page 27) carefully tend this second-growth forest and have encouraged some sylvan creatures to relocate there from older, more distant forests.

Hunting

Boar, deer, and black-masked bear roam the forests of the Vast and can be found, well roasted, on local inn tables. The Vast is known around the Inner Sea for its succulent roast stag, the meat being of the highest quality and size. Traditionally, this dish is served on large platters, the first bearing the full rack of antlers to the tables, surrounded by sweetmeats and choice curs.

Hunters say that game has remained surprisingly plentiful over the years. Most sages specializing in such things believe that the High Country has acted as a sort of protected breeding-ground over the years, and only the rich food offered by farm plantings tempts the choice game down into the farmlands, where the woodlots and wilderland groves offer shelter between feasts.

Most hunting is done in the scattered woods, either by a few archers on foot or by four or more stout men armed with spears, daggers, and clubs, hunting with the aid of trained dogs. The first method requires more skill and delivers game in better condition. Hunting in the foothills and on the wooded mountain flanks has always been a more dangerous game, undertaken only by large, well-armed bands, as wolves, orcs, brigands, and monstrous creatures have frequently attacked overbold hunters in the hills. More worrisome still, strange and dangerous creatures have begun to appear neat the fey, mist-cloaked marshes of the Flooded Forest on the northern edge of the Vast. Giant owlbears, stirges, and other, rarer creatures that local hunters have never seen before and for which they have no names have increasingly been encountered by the unlucky. Hunting near Ylraphon is now done in large, well-armed bands, who never camp overnight in the woods if they can help it but return by torchlight with ready swords.

Folk in the Vast tend to keep to themselves and see themselves as one with the land they inhabit, loyal only to their local village or community. The countryside is beautiful but dangerous, and from their earliest days humans in the rural Vast go armed. Even the youngest child allowed out of its mother's reach will have a sling and a belt-knife. Most folk in the Vast are contented with their homes and their lot in life but are always eager to hear news of the wider Realms "outside." Such news gives them much entertainment, and they also enjoy ballads-even ballads they've heard a hundred times before.

Local bards of distinction are few, but many bards who wander Cormyr, Sembia, the Dales, and the Vast prefer the eastern side of the Reach above all else. "They treat you as a friend, as an honored guest, and as someone deserving good coin and the best food," said one. "Whenever I come into an inn, even if there be five or six harpers already gathered, smiles light up the faces of folk there, and they call out to me as if I were an old friend. Soon, I am. I'll keep walking those roads until I'm too old to walk anywhere." Wandering minstrels often to be met in the Vast include the sharp-tongued and keen-witted Nalabar of Selgaunt, the jovial and well-loved "Happy" Mamblat of Hillsfar, and the beautiful half-elf lady Sshansalue Wonderharp.

Several unique local festivals are celebrated throughout the Vast. These tend to be more energetically celebrated in the country and paid less attention in the cities.

• The Arming (On the fourth day of Tarsakh) commemorates the rise of the farmers and merchants together to defeat raids from the mountains south of Ravens Bluff, orc raids along the North Road, and brigand and pirate attacks throughout the Vast. On this day militias are mustered and inspected, well-polished weapons are proudly worn, and youths of both sexes are given gifts of weapons or armor in coming-of-age ceremonies, in token of their now being old enough to join the local adults in defending their farms and villages. Weaponry contests draw spectators and challengers from miles around, followed by feasts where the ballads are sung, local troupes act out famous duels and battles, and many a tale of deeds of valor is told and retold.
• The Plowing (6th Mirtul) is the traditional day when the ground is broken for planting all over the Vast. Neighbors often work together, with local teams traveling about to break ground for the entire community. Casks of beer aged winterlong are opened at sundown for an evening feast. The free plowing continues for up to four days, until each farmer in the neighborhood has at least one field ready for sowing.
• Hornmoot (14th Kythorn) is an old, fading holiday. In the days of the dwarven kingdom, it marked the first trading-day of spring between humans and dwarves, when the dwarves emerged from their underground halls at the ending of winter. The dwarves would blow horns in the mountains to signal their coming, and the humans replied with horn-calls of their own in settlements that wanted to trade. Dwarves still come to these moots (and lesser ones held on the fourteenth of each month from Kythorn through Eleint), but each year there are fewer dwarves. Traders come from as far away as Amn to get good axes and swords from the Stout Folk at these moors.
• The Bone Dance (9th Highsun), a hunting-festival hosted by clerics of Malar, involves a nighttime combined pageant and feast held around a bonfire. Magically animated bones of huge stags and other beasts enact stirring hunts, with the very young and very old members in each community taking the parts of the hunters. All the participants consume much food and drink late into the night, rising early the next morning to set forth en masse to track down and slay any local predators or dangerous monsters known to be active in the vicinity.

Temples & Clergy

In common with the agricultural lands nearby (Sembia, Cormyr, and the Dales), the Vast is a place tolerant of many religions. All major human faiths can be found in the Vast, notably those of Eldath, Chauntea, and Torm. The latter came in person to his temple in Tantras during the Time of Troubles, and his avatar's fall devastated an area north of the city walls, leaving it an area of twisted and tortured rock where no magic works and spellcasters of all races feel sick or faint. Shrines honoring the "travelers' gods" - Tymora, Tempus, and the newly-restored Waukeen - may be found throughout the region. For example, King's Reach and High Haspur have shrines dedicated to Tymora, both administered from a small temple in Mulmaster, while Tsurlagol, Calaunt, Tantras, and Ravens Bluff all have temples of Tymora of their own. Waukeen's temples suffered gradual decline during her imprisonment but seem likely to make a quick recovery following her recent return, in addition, shrines and the occasional temple to other gods can be found across the Vast, most of the temples being within the major cities. One relic of the fallen dwarven realm still to be seen here and there along the North Road are boulders etched with the crossed battle-axes of Clangeddin, Father of Battles-and many local warriors pray to both Clangeddin and Tempus before they go to war in the mountains.

Inns and Roads

According to most travelers, the best inns in the area are not found in the cities or even in the Vast proper but in the wilder stretches of road linking the Vast with neighboring cities. Arguably the finest of these is The Wizard's Hand in Maskyr's Eye in the north; close behind come a pair of southern inns: The Worried Wyvern in Sevenecho and The Elf In Armor in High Haspur.

The Hand, some eighty winters old, is named for the vanished wizard Maskyr One-Eye. The Wyvern is comparatively recent, not quite twenty years of age, and dominates the hamlet of Sevenecho (named for the family of the innkeeper), located where the main overland road from Procampur meets the Tsurlagol Road. The Elf in Armor is named after the elven warrior Beluar, who aided the dwarves of Tuir's fading kingdom in their battles against the orcs. Beluar and his small band of elven riders perished in an orc road-ambush in the mountain pass south of Ravens Bluff, known ever since as Elvenblood Pass. Beluar is buried in Sarbreenar, the hamlet just south of that pass. From his resting-place, the High Trail runs south to High Haspur, where it forks to run southwest to Procampur and southeast towards Tsurlagol and a junction with the main North Road.

Farther north, Beluar's Hunt and the rival Rolling Heads Inn both commemorate Beluar's most famous victory over the orcs. Routing the humanoids at Viperstongue Ford (where the Cross Road from Kurth to Hlintar crosses the River Vesper), Beluar's forces pursued them north into a rugged line of hills southwest of Kurth, and thence north along the road as far as Maskyr's Eye, where Beluar himself slew the last of the orcs on the road outside the town smithy. The hills west of the road, between Kurth and Maskyr's Eye, are locally known as "Beluar's Hunt" and have given their name to one of Kurth's two inns; the rival Rolling Heads Inn at the other end of town takes its name from the most notable token the routed orcs left behind.

Some travelers mark their progress not by the inns but by landmarks on the roads in between. South of Maskyr's Eye, the border of the Vast proper is marked by Mount Wolf, towering high above the North Road. Of old, many gray wolves laired near the peak, until local hunters saw them as far too efficient competition for the highly prized stags and greatly reduced their numbers. There are no known passes through the mountains from the Vast to eastern lands, although rumors persist of hidden ways through the peaks from the easternmost reaches of the High Country to Impiltur. This range of peaks that wall in the Vast on the east is sometimes called the Giantspike Mountains.

To the south, the road runs through the market town of Kurth and into Three Trees Pass (named, it is said, by one merchant of Sembia talking to another long ago, when both had explored the dwarven lands in hopes of opening up a trade-route from the dwarven mines to the River Vesper). The mountains on either side of the pass are sometimes called the Troll Mountains, although few trolls are seen there today. They have been almost eradicated by the dwarves who live in mines high above the Pass - once-rich mines that now yield only a little iron and less copper.

South of "the High Reach" (a nickname used to distinguish the town of King's Reach from "the Reach" or Dragon Reach, the great arm of the Inner Sea that divides the Vast from the Dales), the road leaves the mountains, crossing rolling hill-country. Its southerly route roughly divides the walled farms of the Vast from the High Country, a large expanse of grassy hills and rocky moorland inhabited mainly by shepherds and their flocks. Several small stop-over camps may be found along the North Road as it crosses this tolling open land, each by a pond or stream. At least two of these sites boast inns, The Nine Swords at Swords Pool and The Blue Stallion at Dead Tree Hollow.

The High Country

Local legends - even in the days when the orcs ruled - have always held that the High Country was home to an elusive, unseen people. Wanderers' reports of sightings have been few and contradictory, so the exact nature of the inhabitants is nor known: guesses include dryads, sprites, dopplegangers, treants, feral halflings, and some unknown fey race. There are areas - particularly small, hidden dells crowded with old, moss-covered trees, sparkling pools, and the occasional standing stone - that prudent shepherds always avoid. If weather or mischance brings an experienced shepherd into one of these areas, their custom is to leave as soon as possible, move quickly and quietly, light no fires and cut no trees, and leave behind one or two sheep tethered to a stake, with a loudly-spoken but humble apology for trespassing. The less prudent take their chances, but fewer return to bring back tales of the hidden dells.

Sheep-trails crisscross much of the High Country, but the Hidden People tolerate few buildings. Most shepherds use simple, temporary turfhuts. A few lonely, widely separated stone towers standing in the easternmost reaches of the High Country are said to belong to powerful, reclusive mages, who are left alone by the Hidden People because they turn back most of the orc bands that wander down from the surrounding mountains.