The Westlands

The Forest of Reaklia is the most northern territory of the Westlands, neatly divided from the Northlands by the River White and Flat Branch (towards the west). The southern divide is marked by the Kesau Brush, which follows along the path of Raintree River, on the other side of which lay the Southland territories. Nestled between these two domains are Haven, a neutral land where herds mingle in safety and without competition, and Moonwell, an errant island that was once apart of Haven.

The Westlands are perhaps the most comfortable realm in all of Alyaria, hardy ever experiencing any harsh or extreme weather. It is as close to idyllic as any can come in the continent. All four seasons visit upon it in equal measure. Springs are pleasant but damp. If the snows were heavy in the mountains, then there may be some flooding along the Dawnflow and and Winding Rivers, but what there is is minimal and hardly ever devastating. Summers can be quite warm, but thanks to frequent—albeit brief—afternoon showers the lands are saved from the worst of it. Kesau Brush is subject to wildfires at the height of summer, particularly at its heart in the Oakland Savanna, but major fires only occur every decade or so, and are contained by Raintree River and the Dawnflow. Fall is brisk but pleasant, particularly in the Forest of Reaklia and the wooded areas of Haven where the trees turn shades of scarlet and gold. Winter is cold, but blizzards are rare and snow only falls in earnest late in the season.


Forest of Reaklia

The Forest of Reaklia is pinned between two major water courses: the Winding River to its southern border and the River White (which splits off to spawn Flat Branch) at its northern divide. The Darkstone Mountains butt against its eastern edge, the two merging together in what are known as the Black Hills. Meanwhile, the western edges tapers off into the Ithica Sea, a point where the lands juts into a series of tree-studded cliffs. Its very center is called Reaklia's Heart. Just east of the Heart, the Siyeh Ridge rises above the forest like a blade. Reaklia's northern most territory is The Forest of the Forsaken. It is cut off from the rest of Reaklia by Flat Branch to its north and the southern arm of River White.

Climate
As a temperate forest, the Forest of Reaklia enjoys all four seasons in nearly equal portions. Spring is fair with a few scattered showers but not so much that it causes any great hardship upon its dwellers. However, it is during this time of year that the Winding River and River White crest their banks, forcing inhabitants further into the interior if not into other territories altogether. Since its origin comes from further down the Darkstone Mountains, the Winding River is subject to milder flooding; but every twenty or so years it breeches its floodplain only to settle into a new course. River White floods more readily, but being a young and virile water course its path is deeply carved, giving it more room to swell without posing a major threat to the creatures on either side of its trek. That said, it remains a dangerous course as when it floods its rapids reach a fever pitch that catches—then promptly drowns—any animal foolhardy enough to hazard its border.

Summers are mild. Temperatures hardly every break the 90's, and those days that it does are few and far between. Even so, the forest can be stifling due to the density in which the trees grow, which effectively stops any wind from stirring the realm beneath the canopies. The forest edges that run along the Winding River, the Gulf of Ceenral, and the western coast enjoy a few gusty breezes, but the interior is not so lucky.

Fall is perhaps the best time of year to visit the Forest of Reaklia. It is then that it truly comes alive. Deciduous trees burst with color, donning warm tones of red, orange, and gold which are offset by the evergreens scattered in their midst. Nuts are dropped by arbors preparing for winter's reprieve, making Reaklia a treasure trove of the little delicacies. Herds from all other flock to the forest simply to get their teeth into the many types. It is comfortably cool during this time of year. Temperatures do not rise above 60°F with lows in the brisk 30's and 40's. Furthermore, there is little precipitation at the start of the season when the nut harvest is at its best. It's not until fall draws closer to winter that the rains come. From that point and throughout the winter, the cold sets in with a vengeance; although, it is mild compared to that felt in the Northlands. The southern edge of Reaklia only sees sleet with a few snow flurries in the depths of winter, but the more north- and eastward you travel the harder the cold sets in, freezing the rain first into sleet, then ice, then snow. Luckily, the storms are never great, and blizzards blow in infrequently. It is only in the Forest of the Forsaken that true cold is known. There winter is a terrible trial, taking the lives of all but the hardiest beasts.

Terrain
The deeply wooded Forest of Reaklia is highly productive, especially in is southwestern expanse where the nut trees are most common. Here acorns, chestnuts, walnuts, and a variety of other hardy fruit are dropped throughout the year depending on the species, much to the delight of the land's inhabitants. Where the forest stretches to the west and south, it is heavily populated by broad-leaf trees, but they become more evenly interspersed with conifers as it marches northwards towards the Northlands and eastwards then upwards to the Darkstone Mountains. The forest crawls up the Black Hills in the east, thinning only at the highest climbs as the hills grow into summits.

The Forest of Reaklia is at its thickest in Reaklia's Heart, where the trees weave together so completely that they blot out the sky. Only a few hardy birds, brave squirrels, and a small population of elk manage to eke out a living under the canopy, and competition for food is fierce. There is a boon, though: winters are mild since the trees insulate the under story and protect it from snow and ice. The Heart breaks around the granite juggernaut that is Siyeh Ridge. The cliff slices through the Heart, and (with the exception of the Black Hills) is the highest point in Reaklia. It is a major attraction for daredevils who want to prove their mettle by traversing the switchback trails that crisscross its face. Adding to the threat of falling are the frequent rock slides, which account for the tumble of boulders and gravel that accumulate at its foot.

River White is the only major river in Reaklia. It is so named for its turbulent rapids, which are at its worst where it is born from the mountains. While the river does calm along its course, it never steadies. Its roar can be heard for miles beyond its deep-cut bed. It is prone to flooding at the start of spring and is perhaps the most dangerous point in all of the Westlands. Partway through its journey towards the west, River White splits with its main body going towards and a secondary tributary taking a more northerly course. This river is called Flat Branch, and it is far calmer than its parent, although it is deathly cold even in the height of summer. The jut of land around which these two water ways course is called the Forest of the Forsaken, a dim and dreaded wood where horses who have betrayed there herds are often exiled. While not nearly as cold as the Taiga, the Forest of the Forsaken is still a hard land that supports little beyond the ironwoods and blood trees, which choke out all other vegetation.


Haven

Haven is nestled securely between the Winding River and the Dawnflow along its northern and southern borders respectively. The western terminus curves gently around the Gulf of Ceenrul, following a line that would fit roughly around Moonwell's eastern edge were the island still part of its parent mass. It is along the coast and between the mountains that Morningwood meadows stretches out. As the land rolls eastward, it wraps around Teketia Lake, before splitting northeast into the tangle of Havenwood and southeast where the Singing Falls crash down from the Sawtooth Range.

Climate
Living up to its namesake, Haven is a paradise. Spring is sweet with light afternoon showers that bring the meadows to a glorious bloom of color. It seldom dips below 45°F but doesn't rise above 65°F until summer raises its rosy head. Even then, the season is mild with 90's a rarity. Should the heat climb so high, it is made bearable by cooling wind that comes of the Gulf of Ceenrul and another that rides down the various tributaries that spawn from the Sawtooths. Summer does see frequent showers (sometimes torrential downpours), but the land drains quickly enough with the water sources eager to whisk away the sky's excesses. The weather is so pleasant that flowers, which begin to bloom mid-spring, continue to dress the territory in bright sparks of red, yellow, blue, pink, and purple—really, any color imaginable—all the way until fall, at which time the trees take up the task by shading to topaz and ruby. Much like spring, fall is pleasant with day time temperatures hovering between 60 and 50°F before falling towards the lower 40's at the darkest hour. True cold doesn't set in until the very middle of winter. Precipitation is light, no more than a dusting of snow, which forms a thin crust on the meadows and forests that is easily broken by a vigorous hoof.

Terrain
The whole of Haven a charmingly pastoral territory complete with babbling rills, gently rolling hills, and flower-strewn meadows flanked by groves and copses of fruit trees.

The Morningsong Meadow is a favored place for herds to gather as the area offers plenty of open space in which to mingle and conduct trade. Nearby pear and apple trees, which arch over its northern border, are also quite tempting and attract hungry visitors from midsummer to early fall. Harvesters aught to take care, however, as honeybees' hives often hang from those very trees. The little buzzing insects take pollen not only in the blooms their homes provide in the spring, but also the ever abundant flowers that blanket Morningsong throughout much of the year. The meadow is quite extensive, claiming most of Haven's southwestern trek as well as the western edge of Teketia Lake.

The lake is known for its remarkably crystalline water. You can see all the way to its bottom. Any sediment kicked up by zealous swimmers settles quickly, revealing the smooth, muddy lakescape below. Of course, this makes it a favorite place for animals who enjoy fish, but luckily for the lake's gilled inhabitants there are plenty of tree branches and stones under which to hide along with a few lily pads, which accumulate at the lake's northeastern edge. A wealth of tasty aquatic plants grow along Teketia's banks including arrow root, cattails, horsetails, mudwort, watercress, lakepepper, and water plantain. There are also many varieties of flowers—like cinquefoil, loosestrife, hyssop, and forget-me-nots—which grow like weeds in marshy pasturage that hugs the lake.

The land firms up as Haven moves eastwards, but not for a lack of water. The Winding River keeps Havenwood well hydrated from the many small tributaries that break from it and thread through the small forest to join a few mountain fed brooks. Stands of birch, maple, beech, and hemlock (along with a few white pines) spread their branches over these water ways to form a pleasantly cool atmosphere. In fact, Havenwood is a most delightful place to while away the hottest summer days even if it does not sport the fruit trees that favor Haven's western portions.

The Singing Falls provide plenty of water to the south of Haven. Here three small rivers tumble from the rocky edge of the Sawtooths, spilling over rocks and into pitted stone to create a mysterious babbling hum that is likened to music. Countless rivulets break away then rejoin the rivers, adding their voices to the watery chorus. A mix of birches, maples, beech, hemlock, fruit trees, and tall pines accompany the falls in their journey, shading their course until the merge into one gentle, wide course known as the Dawnflow.


Kesau Bush

The most southern territory in all of the Westlands, Kesau claims those lands that lie between Haven and the Raintree Jungle. All but its eastern border are defined by major bodies of water: the Dawnflow in the north; the Gulf of Ceenrul also to the north but a bit more west; the Ithica Sea, although it only makes up a few dozen miles; and the Raintree River, a vast river that accompanies Kesau from the Sawtooths to Ithica. Despite the abundance of water, Kesau is a parched land. Only the Open Plains, which hem the territory's eastern border, provide decent vegetation with any consistency. The Oak Savanna that makes up the most of Kesau is a scruffy scrubland of bur oaks, tough plains grasses, and thorny shrubs. Even the land upon which the Standing Stones sit is parched, populated as it is by reed grass and other types of salty coastal sedges.

Climate
Spring is perhaps the only time of year in which Kesau is productive. The rivers to the north and south overflow due to ice melt at the same time that the coastal rains sweep in, and between the two sources the Brush is saturated enough to coax it into greening. The Open Plains, blessed as they are to their proximity to the mountain runoff and the Singing Falls, benefits the most from the watery abundance, turning a brilliant emerald. Wildflowers spring to life to do their best to compete with the grass in flashes of blue, red, purple, and pink. Even the Oak Savanna dons some color in the form of yellow, purple, and orange blossoms.

However, spring is brief and temperatures quickly rise into the 80's then upper 90's as summer sets in to bake the land. Within a few short weeks, midday sees triple digits. The grass turns brown across the Oak Savanna and, although it's edible, it is tough and flavorless fair. That which grows in the far west around the Standing Stones is far worse as the heavily salted wind crusts the vegetation with brine, which counteracts any benefit to be had from the humid conditions along the coastline. The Open Plains experience the same sort of heat but without the benefit of shade from bur oaks or even shrubs. Even so, the grass remains green until the very height of summer, thanks to the Singing Falls and their offering of rogue brooks, which meander through the plains. Thunderstorms tear through the Brush, but they do not give as much water as those further north. Rather than looking to the storms with hope, most of the animals who call Kesau home dread them. The grass is too dry by far. Alll it takes is a lightning strike to set them afire. Wildfires race through the Oak Savanna at least once each summer. Luckily, the surrounding bodies of water prevent them from spreading to other territories, but the Open Plains do succumb to the flames in particularly dry years.

Relief comes only in mid-fall with their thin rains. They take away some of summer's fury, but it is too far in the year to do much more than that. With that comes the cold. Thankfully, it is not anything like what is visited upon the Forest of Reaklia or the lands beyond. The rains abate after a few weeks and the rest of the fall is dry and cool. The Open Plains are able to support herds as they migrate to more southern climes, but by the time the animals leave it is fairly exhausted.

Winter is mild with temperatures hardly ever dipping below the mid-30's and highs range between 65° and 75°F. A few days may see lower numbers than that, but they are few and far between. Snow is extremely rare. Usually frost is the closest the brush gets to seeing frozen precipitation. The Open Plains may see a flurry or two from the mountains, but that is the extent of it.

Terrain
The Land of the Standing Stones is the lowest elevation of Kesau Brush as well as its most westward point. Unlike the coasts to the north that meet the Ithica Sea with a granite face and rocky bays, in Kesau the land slowly rises from the Sea in a muddy slump. Sand accumulates here and there, especially where sea oats and sedges anchor the soil; but for the most part it is not the sort of "beach" anyone would like to visit. The shore is quite narrow, giving over to the touch coastal vegetation readily enough. While green and lush in appearance, the grass does not make for good eating. It is terribly salty thanks to the wind that soaks it with salt spray. Even if it weren't for that, it's tough and fibrous; and many species have serrated edges or are lined with irritating hair-like fibers. This portion of Kesau would be completely featureless were it not for the standing stones: five monolithic chunks of black-gray granite that form a loose circle around a bare patch of grass. Nothing grows inside this circle, but the grasses immediately surrounding it are incredibly dense and thick, more so than elsewhere. The stones are irregular in shape but their surfaces are smooth, like tumbled gems. The tallest among them is easily 15 feet while the smallest is around 10. They are a mystery: the fodder of ghoul tales told from one foal to another.

Once past the Standing Stones, the coastal terrain quickly changes over into the Oak Savanna. Different species of grasses take the lead in what is the very heart of Kesau. The fodder is best from spring to early summer when junegrass, bluestem, and side oats are at their growing season peek. Once the heat sets in, though, everything turns to brown drift and the pickings become lean until the fall rains encourage wild rye to take over. The sea of sedges and brome are interrupted by oaks. They occur in groves, copses, or simply stand out in the middle of open stretches, and they come in every variety—bur oak, white oak, red, black, northern pin, just to name a few. A few other trees grow here like elm, hickory, cedar, and aspen, but they do not occur in the same numbers as the oaks, for which the land earns its name.

The trees thin then disappear completely as the Kesau Brush makes its way east into what is called the Open Plains. There the tastier grasses—junegrass, bluestem, sweet grass, switchgrass, among others—are found in abundance along with sunflowers, rosinweeds, asters, wild turnips, and many other tasty forbs. The ground cover is thick and tall, well toward belly height for most large ungulates. It is easy to get lost in the Emerald Sea, as the Open Plains are sometimes called. Seasonal brooks and rivulets make their way through the plains, bringing muddy but cool water throughout most of the year. The smallest tributaries dry up during the height of summer and in the depths of winter, but they always return with the spring and fall storms.


Moonwell

Moonwell is the only island large enough to be considered a territory in the Westlands, and the one of the very few in Alyaria to hold any appeal to the equine who call the country home. It is surrounded completely by the Gulf of Ceenrul. Where the land mass faces east, the gulf grows thin enough that horses can travel between the mainland and Moonwell with relative ease. Most wait until tide goes out, but those who are tall enough to wade through the water while the strong swimmers paddle their way over. It is well worth the trouble as the island is the only place in the Westlands were sweet melon grows. These tasty treats bring in not only horses, but elk, deer, bison, and a few predators, as well. 

Climate
The island's climate is quite similar to Haven's. It is a pleasant place to live or even just visit. Springs are wet, to be sure, but that is what is needed to get the sugar melons a good start in life. Showers occur in the early mornings and mid-afternoons before making their way to the mainland. Particularly bad storms flood the beaches, but the water recedes almost as soon as they pass. The water that pours onto the Keep are funneled into a channel at its center, which flow down it's southern face in a seasonal fall. It cuts a muddy river across the island to the Gulf, where it dumps its contents in a rush. This river (really more of a glorified creek) is lined with rocks and boulders that have tumbled from the Keep, which keep its banks well-defined while ensuring a quick course. 

Summer sees a rise in temperatures, but like its parent body, Moonwell hardly ever reaches above 95°F, and then only for a few days or so. Precipitation is frequent, but not nearly as zealous as spring's offerings. They keep the river flowing from the Keep to the Gulf while ensuring the fields that surround the landform are moist enough to support the melons. Late summer dries out a little bit, by which time the hard-bodied fruits are ripe and ready for the eating. The sun sweetens them all the more, and they provide a refreshing treat to those who forage under the clear skies.

Fall minces over the island, shading from one season to the other at such a gentle pace that few would know time's passing unless they were to note the trees. The few that reside on the island (all the same fruit varieties found in Haven, though smaller in stature) drop their own gifts upon the island just as the weather cools. Evenings and early mornings are brisk but fair, while midday temperatures are quite comfortable. It makes for perfect foraging weather. It is also the time of year when the last remaining melons ferment, creating a tasty and slightly intoxicating juice favored by many of Alyaria's inhabitants. Showers drift in and out, but they are not strong even if they bring in some nippy temperatures. When they abate, winter follows, bringing enough cold that frost sets upon the vegetation. Some years it snows, but this is a rarity as the warm Gulf waters tend to melt it as soon as the sun rises. Only those drifts that accumulate in the Keep's shadow remain, but they are nothing more than muddy patches of slush.

Terrain
Most of the island is flat. It only rises towards the center of the island in the form of gentle hills around the Keep, at which point the granite mesa thrusts upwards like an eruption. The Keep is ruddy in color, which strikes quite the contrast with the normally green surroundings. Upon its pate is a small fruit grove called the Keep's Crown. Birds of all kinds reside there. It is a safe haven for them with the only predators being other birds (hawks, eagles, kites, and gulls) and small mammals like martins and ferrets. At its center is a shallow bowl devoid of most vegetation. When the spring rains come, it fills with water, which the rushes through a cut along the southern divide then leaps over the edge of the mesa. This seasonal fall has carved a deep furrow down the Keep's face as well as driven a rock and boulder laden bed through the island. When the rains are gone, surefooted animals can transverse the landmark's face to reach the top, but it is a difficult and dangerous trek. Each fall daredevils lose their lives to the dormant river's course. 

White, sandy beaches border the island. They are anchored in place by sea oats and sedges, which form massive dunes between the coastline and the interior of the island. Strong storms wash away some of the strands only to redeposit the stolen sediment in other spots, so it seems that the beaches are ever changing. The only portion that retains its shape is Calmwater Cove, a curved indention formed on the northern beach. It forms a half crescent with high dunes mounting the spine of the formation, which is why the cove hardly changes. The already gentle Gulf waters are even more placid than normal in this shelter. It is a great place for very young and very old animals alike to swim. Otters frequent the area as do sea-faring birds who skim the surface for minnow and fry. The strand is littered with shells, which glisten in the light like star glow. They occur in all shapes and sizes. Visitors collect them to trade with inland herds or to fashion adornments for themselves and loved ones. 

The stretch of territory from the beaches to the Keep are taken over by short meadow grasses. A small number of fruit trees pop up here and there (mostly apples, pears, persimmons, and a few pawpaw trees), but most of the meadow is open. This is where sugar melons grow in abundance. Their vines crawl over the meadowland, creating thick tangles so that their oversized leaves can shelter their fruit early on in the year. They start growing in spring, but by the time summer arrives large pinkish-orange rinds crest the vegetation. They are ready to crack by late summer once they turn to a rich apricot color. All it takes is a quick thump with a hoof and they split open. Local animals always leave a few to ferment, which they open in the early fall to partake in the slightly alcoholic juices.