Weligburh. (Patreon)

The newest two page spread for Humanity Lost is coming along nicely and will be done Friday if all goes to plan, but for now, here’s some more Concavia content for you all.

This is the home of one of the main factions you’ll encounter in the country of Brycglond, the Weligyrwas. The Weligyrwas are a tribe of farmers who live in the Fens of south eastern Brycglond for protection from their pastoralist rivals to the north, the Capallians, or the Olfend lords as they’re also known.

Here’s a small excerpt from the book explaining exactly what’s going with the layout of their little island:

Once Arrowaun pulled himself at last from that well earned rest and pried open his heavy lids it struck him all of the sudden, the beauty of the fens. In the dense air the light danced, refracted and lingered all about him. The thickness of it, which was oppressive to him just yesterday eve, now uplifted his very soul. On a clear morning like this one, the fens seemed to hold Leuadas light just above its surface, all about the horizon it clung to it like some film of effulgence, but this enchanted mist was not opaque and cloudy, but held itself away and aided the clarity of thought. Each breath was fresh and hydrating, his mind became focused, like cold dew on a blade of grass. The proximity of this magical mist seemed always out of reach, never close, the sensation was like being in a large bubble amidst a cloud. As though one was immersed shallowly in It, but that the effects of the phenomenon were only perceptible when one gazed through a great deal of it, whereby it became visible. Arrowaun now understood why men such as these Weligyrwas would live hard by the fen in the way that they do, there is a magic here, no doubt. Leuadas gift of this spectacle was worth every moment of trudgery Arrowaun had experienced thus far. In fact he now came to see many gifts this land, that he had so hastily deemed accursed just one day prior boasted. Chiefly among which was protection from the outside world.

“Humph, Wake at last are ya?” Grumbled the ferryman standing up to a height scarcely reaching Arrowauns elbow, he then turned and gestured for the wizard to follow.

The small islet that they were on was raised up ever so slightly above the surrounding fen, though not much could be seen through the tall and dominating reeds. All about them were littered dug out tree trunks that functioned as boats for these fen folk. The boats were in a large crescent as though at a dock of sorts.

Arrowaun followed the little fenman’s path as he expertly waded through the reeds like an otter, or a moorhen, or some other creature born to them. After a while of battling through the towering reed bank, the came to an opening at last revealing their destination on the horizon. Weligburh was situated on a gravel bank that at its peak, stood no higher above the surrounding fens than the combined height of two of these fenmen stacked atop one another. It was a hill, but the locals called hills like it “fen islands”, for in the wet months of the year they stood like little islets of refuge. The watery meadows of the fens encompassed the isle on all sides. There was sign of heavy earthwork having been done in the past, as the surrounding fens seemed to pool into a deeper artificial moat that had been drudged round the perimeter of a vast walled town. The Weligyrwas that had told Arrowaun of Weligburh described the place as a “hillfort”, well if that was the case then this must be the lowest hillfort in all of Brycglond Arrowaun thought to himself. From the docks where they both stood, one could make out a quite substantial settlement, the largest Arrowaun had seen with his own eyes. The most defining features that jumped out at the wizard were the wind powered sails of towers that blinked in and out of view from behind a great wall of white willows. The chief tower among the four was unlike the rest and stood solitary and spartan at the precipice of this fen island, it was bold and dominated the landscape to be seen from all around. Arrowaun pondered at its purpose, it could be a wind mill, yes, he had read of those back in the monastery, they were used for the grinding grain into flour. Leading up to the wind mill was a street lined with two parallel columns of cute little thatched huts. If one followed the street down hill with one’s eye to the long line of white willows, one would notice plumes of smoke wafting up from thatched rooftops obscured by the willow wall, signs of a much larger settlement than first gleamed. The wall itself was formed by willows whose trunks had been fused together and strengthened over many years to create a living town wall. The other smaller wind engines that Arrowaun had spied blipping in and out of view from behind the willow wall seemed to be wind pumps of a kind, not mills. For on the other side of the white willow wall, cut out of the raised bank that assumedly kept the surrounding fen out of the fortress, was an outlet poring water into the moat. The narrow moat was interesting in and of itself because it did not merely loop around the perimeter of the stronghold as one would think a moat might, but it instead carried on either side to seemingly join with some natural rivers flow. It suddenly dawned on Arrowaun what was going on here, these Weligyrwas were more clever than Arrowaun had at first given them credit for, they were using the power of the wind to drain the very fens around them to create more solid ground for themselves, genius! He then realised that the moat wasn’t there merely for protection, it was there to take the drained water from the fields and to bear it off onto the river whereby it was subsequently swept out to sea with the current. Arrowaun had no idea that such advanced ways of life existed still and on Brycglond no less!

The only way into the stronghold was across a narrow and easily defendable causeway six furlongs long as the crow flies. The causeway was lined with hundreds upon hundreds of intimidating pointed silver birch stakes that stood up near vertical out of the shadowy bog only a finger below. These wooden stakes must have been transported from the mainland, for trees of their ilk are scarce to come upon in these watery parts. The path of the causeway was made up of innumerable wicker hurdles that had been stacked atop one another to provide stability underfoot, they must have to be topped up regularly by the Weligyrwas’ womenfolk to keep their causeway from slipping into fen Arrowaun ruminated. The small reed covered dock disappeared behind them as they made their way across the long wicker hurdle boardwalk, several glints caught Arrowauns eye along the way. He ignored them at first, dismissing them as merely reflections on the waters surface, but the glints gave off a metallic gleam. About two thirds of the way across, Arrowaun’s curiosity beseeched him to inspect the mysterious marsh lights. When he craned over and squinted to pierce the veil of the rippling water, he saw shimmering arms and regalia of war. They were laid seemingly intentionally along the length of the causeway. After further inspection, he noticed that these newer rainments, spears and seax’s were stacked upon older articles dimmed by ages passed.

“Ferryman.” Called Arrowaun “what are these perfectly good arms doing just laying shallowly in the pool?”

“I shan’t speak of that here, not in their presence like. Ye will have to ask me when we’re safe behind the willows, better yet, ye can ask the master himself like.” Answered the ferryman.

Arrowaun nodded and caught up with the fenman. When they approached the end of the way, they came to a rudimentary drawbridge that was lowered upon their arrival.